Ultimate Choice System: I Became The Richest!

"Can we exchange numbers?" Diana asked, her voice steady but carrying a hint of something lighter, almost playful. "I'd like to stay in touch."

Noah didn't react with surprise or hesitation. His gaze remained steady, his tone as neutral as ever when he replied, "Okay."

Diana's smile widened behind her scarf, her posture straightening slightly as though she were pleased with his answer. She reached into her bag, retrieving a sleek, gold-edged phone. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if savoring the moment.

Noah pulled out his own phone—a device far more advanced than hers, sleek and futuristic in design, the kind of technology that hinted at its owner's unique resources. With a single tap, he brought up his contact information and handed her the screen.

Diana took it gracefully, entering her number with a quiet focus. When she handed it back to him, she tilted her head slightly, her golden locks catching the light again. "I appreciate this," she said softly.

Her gaze lingered on the phone in Noah's hand as he slipped it back into his pocket. She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, her curiosity clearly piqued. "Your phone," she said, her tone casual but inquisitive, "it looks… very futuristic. Unique, even. Where did you get it?"

Noah glanced at her briefly, his expression as calm as ever. "I made it," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Diana blinked, tilting her head in genuine surprise. "Huh?" she said, a note of disbelief slipping into her voice. "You made it?"

He nodded, his tone unbothered. "Yeah. I made it."

For a moment, Diana stood there, processing what he had just said. Her sunglasses concealed her widened eyes, but the slight parting of her lips betrayed her astonishment. She wasn't someone easily caught off guard, but this… this wasn't what she had expected.

"I see," she said finally, her voice measured but tinged with intrigue.

The exchange could have ended there, but something about his nonchalant tone and the sheer absurdity of his claim kept her curiosity alive. She wasn't someone who was easily impressed—she'd met countless brilliant minds, seen groundbreaking technology, and walked among the world's elite. Yet here was a man, no older than his late teens, casually claiming to have built a device that looked as advanced as anything she'd seen from the top tech firms.

She crossed her arms loosely, tilting her head slightly. "Does it… have any additional features compared to the phones on the market?"

Noah shrugged, his demeanor entirely unbothered. "It has a few features," he replied, his tone casual, almost dismissive. "AI assistant, extreme damage prevention, and some other stuff. It's nothing extraordinary."

Diana's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Nothing extraordinary?" she repeated, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "AI assistant and extreme damage prevention sound like more than just 'nothing extraordinary.'"

Her mind raced as she considered his words. Those features, particularly the AI assistant, were cutting-edge developments that had only recently been integrated into the latest models from the most advanced tech companies. And even then, the technology was still being refined, with many devices plagued by bugs and inefficiencies.

For him to speak about it so casually, as though it were no more impressive than an ordinary phone, spoke volumes about his capabilities. Even if his version wasn't at the exact level of commercial devices, the fact that he could achieve such a feat at all was… remarkable.

Behind her sunglasses, her eyes widened slightly as the realization settled in. "That's… impressive," she said, her tone soft but genuine.

Noah didn't respond immediately, his gaze steady and unreadable. To him, it wasn't something worth making a fuss over. It was just another project, another tool he had created to suit his needs. But Diana's reaction—subtle yet telling—didn't go unnoticed.

For a moment, she debated asking him more. The thought of owning a phone like his was tempting, not just because of its capabilities but because it was his creation. Yet, as she glanced at him, his composed demeanor and lack of interest in boasting about his skills gave her pause.

If this isn't something he's offering to the public, she thought, then asking for one might come across as… too much. I might give him a very terrible first impression, since I already asked him for the portrait.

Diana wasn't the type to overstep boundaries, especially with someone as intriguing as Noah. Instead, she decided to let the matter rest.

She gave him a small, appreciative nod.

The conversation settled into a comfortable silence, though the air between them felt charged with unspoken thoughts. Diana's mind was a whirl of questions—Who exactly was this man? How did someone so young possess such an extraordinary range of talents? But she didn't voice them.

There was always another time to ask these questions, and right now wasn't particularly a good time.

Instead, she offered him a warm smile, the kind that carried both gratitude and intrigue. "Thank you, Mr. Thompson," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "For your generosity, your time… and for surprising me."

Noah raised an eyebrow slightly, his smirk deepening. "It seems like I surprise you a lot."

"You do," Diana admitted, her tone light but honest. "And I have a feeling you'll continue to."

She took a small step back, signaling the end of their conversation. As she turned to leave, her golden hair catching the light once more, she paused briefly and glanced over her shoulder. "By the way," she said, her tone playful, "I hope you don't mind if I call you sometime. I'd like to see what other surprises you're hiding."

Noah gave her a small nod, his smirk never fading. "Go ahead. I'll pick up."

Diana smiled faintly, though most of her expression was obscured by her scarf and sunglasses. The warmth in her voice, however, was unmistakable. She turned slightly, her golden hair brushing against her shoulders as she shifted her attention to William, who stood a step behind her, visibly stunned.

William's face was a mixture of disbelief and lingering confusion, his usually composed demeanor cracked by the whirlwind of events. His gaze darted between Diana, Noah's retreating figure, and the painting being carefully handled by James's team. For a man accustomed to navigating the upper echelons of society, it was clear that the events of the past hour had completely thrown him off balance.

"Mr. William," Diana said gently, her voice cutting through his daze.

William blinked, startled out of his thoughts. "Y-Yes, my lady?" he stammered, straightening his posture instinctively.

Diana's tone was calm but carried a subtle authority as she gestured toward James, who was overseeing the careful packing of the portrait. "Could you handle the transportation procedure with Mr. James? Ensure that everything is done properly and that the painting arrives safely."

For a moment, William hesitated, still visibly processing everything that had transpired. His lips parted slightly as if to protest or question her request, but the look in Diana's eyes stopped him.

It wasn't a harsh look—Diana rarely needed to resort to overt displays of power—but it was firm, a silent reminder of her position and her trust in him.

"Of course," William said quickly, nodding. His voice was steadier now, though there was still an edge of bewilderment in his tone. "I'll make sure everything is handled perfectly."

"Good," Diana said with a small, approving nod. Her calm gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to James.
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James, who had been quietly observing the exchange, offered a polite bow of acknowledgment. "I'll coordinate with Mr. William to ensure the painting is transported with the utmost care," he said smoothly, his professionalism unwavering.

Diana smiled faintly, her voice soft but carrying a subtle weight. "Thank you, Mr. James. I know I can rely on you."

James inclined his head, his tone warm but respectful. "It is my pleasure, my lady. The piece will be treated with the respect it deserves."

As James and William moved to finalize the logistics, Diana took a step back, her gaze briefly flicking toward Noah, who was nearing the gallery's exit. Her expression softened slightly, though it remained hidden behind her scarf and sunglasses.

"Noah Thompson," she murmured under her breath, the words meant only for herself, "A prodigy, huh?"

With that, she turned on her heel, her steps graceful and deliberate as she walked away, leaving William and James to manage the rest.

Behind her, William muttered under his breath as he followed James toward the painting. "Who is this Noah Thompson? How does someone like him even exist?"

James shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Don't ask me," he said, his voice low but carrying a note of disbelief. "All I know is that someone bought this gallery—cash, in one single go—and that someone was… him."

William froze mid-step, his head snapping toward James. "Wait," he said, his tone sharp with shock. "You're telling me Noah Thompson owns this gallery?"

James nodded, his expression calm but thoughtful as his eyes briefly flicked to the portrait being carefully packed. "That's right," he said. "He bought it outright. No negotiations, no payment plans. Just one clean transaction, all in cash."

William's jaw dropped slightly, his earlier composure unraveling once again. "That's absurd," he muttered, almost to himself. "Do you have any idea how much this place is worth?"

"Of course, I do," James replied with a wry smile. "And so does he. But apparently, for him, it wasn't a big deal."

William ran a hand through his hair, his mind struggling to process the information. The idea of someone so young not only having the resources to purchase a gallery of this caliber but doing so without batting an eye was… staggering.

James continued, his voice dropping slightly as though sharing a personal confession. "To be honest, when he called me earlier asking for the portrait setup, I didn't know what to expect. I didn't even know he was this talented in art. In fact," he added with a faint chuckle, "I was a little worried. I thought he might embarrass himself."

William raised an eyebrow, his curiosity momentarily overriding his shock. "You were worried?"

James nodded, glancing at William with a rueful smile. "Wouldn't you be? I've worked at this gallery for years—dedicated my life to it, really. When he told me he needed canvas and paints to draw something here, in the middle of the gallery, I was… skeptical, to say the least."

William frowned slightly, understanding James's position. "You thought he might make a mess of things?"

"Exactly," James said with a sigh. "I mean, think about it. A gallery owner decides to paint something on the spot, with no warning, and no one knows whether he's even any good at it. If he'd drawn something terrible, it wouldn't just reflect badly on him—it would've reflected badly on the gallery. And me."

He paused, a faint chuckle escaping him. "But what could I do? He's the boss. If I'd shown even the slightest hint of rejection or hesitation, I'd be risking the job I've been at for so many years. So I complied. Quietly."

William's gaze drifted to the carefully packed portrait, the memory of the masterpiece still fresh in his mind. "And then… he created that," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

James nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "Exactly. Five minutes. That's all it took for him to silence every doubt I had. It wasn't just good—it was extraordinary. I've seen the work of legends in this field, William, and I'm telling you… what he did today was on that level. Maybe even beyond it."

The two men stood in silence for a moment, the weight of everything they had witnessed settling over them. Then, with a faint shake of his head, James turned back to the task at hand.

"Come on," he said, motioning toward the painting. "Let's finish this up."

As they began organizing the final steps of the transportation procedure, James glanced at William, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "By the way," he asked casually, though his tone betrayed his interest, "who was that lady?"

William paused for a brief second, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He leaned slightly closer to James, lowering his voice to a whisper as though sharing a state secret. "That was… Princess Diana."

The words landed like a thunderclap.

James froze mid-motion, the clipboard in his hand nearly slipping from his grasp. His eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks, and his jaw dropped slightly, leaving his mouth gaping open like a fish gasping for air. "I'm sorry—what?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

"Princess Diana," William repeated, his faint smile deepening as he watched James's stunned reaction. "Yes, that Diana. One of the most influential royals in Europe. You know, the woman whose every move gets reported on like it's an international event?"