Chapter 4: The Tour of Humiliation

Chapter 4: The Tour of Humiliation

With the digital crown of Richard Harrison now a mere memory in the server's code, Leo Vance stood up from the terminal. The front desk, which had been a battlefield just an hour ago, was now a command center. The first phase of the counter-attack—the surgical strike—was complete. Now came the second phase: winning the hearts and minds.

“Chloe, Mia, you two hold the fort,” Leo said, his voice imbued with a new authority that even Marcus Thorne didn't question. “If he calls down for anything, anything at all, just be polite and tell him you’ll have to check on his request. Then patch the call to me. Don’t engage.”

The girls nodded in unison, their expressions a mixture of awe and nervous excitement. The fear that had paralyzed them was gone, replaced by the thrilling realization that someone was not only fighting back on their behalf but was decisively winning.

“Where are you going?” Marcus asked, still looking at the blank space on the screen where the golden Celestial Tier banner used to be.

“On a tour of the kingdom,” Leo replied with a thin smile. “To let the subjects know their tyrant has been deposed.”

He started with the heart of the hotel’s operations: housekeeping. Pushing through the double doors into the bustling back-of-house corridors, he found Maria, the executive housekeeper, staring grimly at a duty roster. Her face was etched with the weariness of a thousand impossible demands, and Leo knew Room 1201 was the cause of at least a hundred of them. Harrison had already called down three times to complain about the thread count of his sheets and the brand of complimentary water.

“Maria,” Leo said, approaching her workstation.

She looked up, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Leo. Please don’t tell me the man in 1201 needs his towels folded into a different swan.”

“Quite the opposite,” Leo said, leaning against the wall. “Effective immediately, Mr. Harrison in 1201 has had his loyalty status revoked pending a corporate fraud investigation. His profile now reads ‘Standard Guest.’”

Maria blinked, processing his words. “Standard? But… he’s Celestial Tier. He’s been threatening my staff for an hour, telling them he’ll have them fired if his pillows aren’t fluffed every thirty minutes.”

“He was Celestial Tier,” Leo corrected gently. “Now, he’s just a man on an employee discount rate who gets what he paid for. No more complimentary upgrades, no extra amenities, no priority service. Just the room, the bed, and four walls. Treat his room last if you have to. All his special requests are officially cancelled.”

A slow, wondrous smile spread across Maria’s tired face, erasing the lines of stress. It was like watching the sun rise. She turned to her nearest team lead. “Did you hear that, Sofia? 1201 is now a standard room. Standard service only.”

A ripple of audible relief and quiet cheers went through the nearby staff. The oppressive weight that had been bearing down on their entire department lifted in an instant. Maria looked back at Leo, her eyes filled with a gratitude so profound it needed no words. He had given her and her team their power back.

His next stop was the Sovereign Bar & Grill. He found Frank, a career bartender with cynical eyes and forearms like steel cables, polishing a glass with methodical precision.

“Don’t tell me,” Frank grunted without looking up. “The VIP in 1201 wants another bottle of twenty-five-year-old Macallan sent to his room and billed to the ‘hotel’s good will’.”

“Close,” Leo said, sliding onto a barstool. “He can have the Macallan. But from now on, he pays for every drop. His two-hundred-dollar food and beverage credit has been flagged and rescinded by Corporate Loyalty Security.”

Frank stopped polishing. He slowly lowered the glass and looked at Leo, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “You’re serious? I thought management gave him that credit to shut him up.”

“Management has been… re-briefed on the situation,” Leo said diplomatically. “His account is frozen. Charge everything to his room, and make sure you get a signature. No comps, no courtesies. He’s a cash customer like everyone else.”

Frank broke into a wide, gap-toothed grin. He picked up the bottle of Macallan and held it to the light, a wicked glint in his eye. “Well, well. Suddenly this bottle just went up ten dollars a glass. For him, anyway. Consider it a service charge.”

The news spread like wildfire. From room service to the bell desk, Leo’s tour was a liberation campaign. With each stop, he dismantled another piece of Harrison’s unearned power, replacing the staff’s fear and resentment with empowerment and a sense of rebellious joy. They were no longer victims; they were a united front, quietly and professionally enforcing the rules that their tormentor had so arrogantly ignored.

Leo returned to the front desk to find the atmosphere transformed. Chloe and Mia were standing tall, a newfound confidence in their posture. The hotel hummed with its usual professional rhythm, the earlier tension completely gone.

His final act was the most symbolic. He sat down at the terminal and brought up the key card programming interface. He entered the room number: 1201. The screen displayed the key’s current permissions. ‘Room Access: Granted.’ ‘Floor Access: Granted.’ And there it was, the ultimate symbol of his stolen status: ‘Concierge Lounge Access: Granted.’

The Concierge Lounge on the 20th floor was an exclusive sanctuary of free champagne, gourmet snacks, and quiet privilege, reserved only for the hotel’s most elite guests. It was the castle within the castle.

With a few precise clicks, Leo selected the lounge access permission. A simple checkbox was ticked. He unticked it. A dialogue box popped up: Confirm Deactivation of Concierge Lounge Access for Room 1201?

He clicked ‘Confirm.’

The final lock turned. The last door was closed. Richard Harrison’s reign was officially, and completely, over.

They didn’t have to wait long. About an hour later, the elevator doors chimed, and out stepped Mr. Harrison. He looked different. The swagger was gone, replaced by a sullen, bruised ego. His face was still flushed a deep, angry red, no doubt from the verbal lashing he’d received from his General Manager. He was still trying to project an aura of importance, but it was a hollow performance. He strode towards the front desk, not with the arrogance of a king, but with the petulance of a spoiled child who had just been scolded.

He didn’t look at Chloe or Mia. His eyes landed on Leo, the only male supervisor present. In his hand, he held his room key.

“My key isn’t working,” he snapped, his voice a low growl. He slapped the plastic card on the marble countertop. “The one for the Concierge Lounge. It’s broken. Fix it.”

Leo didn’t flinch. He picked up the key with a calm, deliberate motion, as if handling a routine inquiry. He swiped it through the encoder, his eyes on the monitor. He feigned a moment of consideration, tilting his head slightly. Chloe and Mia watched, holding their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests.

“Ah, I see the issue, sir,” Leo said, his voice a perfect symphony of polite, professional detachment. He turned the monitor slightly so Harrison could see the screen. “It seems there was a system update to your guest profile.”

Harrison squinted at the screen, his eyes scanning for the familiar golden banner. He found only empty space. “What is this? What happened to my status?”

“The system has your profile currently listed as a Standard Guest, sir,” Leo explained, his tone maddeningly neutral. “Concierge Lounge access is a complimentary amenity reserved for our Celestial Tier members. I do apologize for any confusion.”

Harrison stared, his mouth opening and closing silently. He looked from the screen to Leo’s impassive face. He was trapped. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t threaten, he couldn’t demand. How could he argue that he deserved the perks of a status he had just been reprimanded for fraudulently using? He was locked out of his castle, not by a broken key, but by the cold, hard, and inescapable logic of the very rules he thought he was above.

The king stood before the front desk, stripped of his crown, his scepter, and his voice, utterly and completely defeated.