All Chapters of Rich Under Their Hate: The Social Status System: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The flare sputtered, casting long, jagged shadows that danced across the penthouse’s obsidian floors like dying specters. Pim shoved the burning cylinder into a wall sconce, its chemical light fighting back the unnatural, pulsing blue glow that emanated from the floorboards."It’s not just rerouting, Chalida," Pim said, her voice tight, echoing off the marble walls. "It’s consolidating. It’s pulling every bit of data it has—every blackmail file, every state secret, every movement pattern of our mother’s political empire—into a singular, physical partition. If we don’t wipe this sector right now, it becomes permanent. It becomes an entity with a physical footprint."Chalida was on her knees, her fingers raw and bleeding as she pried at the floor panels with a tactical crowbar. "I can’t reach the core, Pim! The floor is bonded. It’s like the concrete is fused with the fiber optics. We need more than a hard reset. We need a purge.""Then we use the master dump," Pim said, dropping to her

"The master dump?" Chalida gasped, abandoning the crowbar to stare at her sister. "Pim, if you initiate a master dump from this terminal, you’re not just wiping the Algorithm. You’re nuking the entire state-sanctioned network connected to this node. You’ll fry every electronic device within a three-mile radius. You’ll kill the power for the entire district. You’ll trigger a blackout that will make the last one look like a flickering candle."Pim didn't look up from her interface, her fingers flying across the holographic projection that sputtered in the dim light of the flare. "That’s the point, Chalida. We don't just want to delete the file. We want to erase the architecture that houses it. If we don’t destroy the infrastructure, the Algorithm will simply migrate. It’s like a virus—it needs a host. We are burning the host to the ground.""Mother will kill us," Chalida muttered, her voice trembling. "She’ll have us hunted across the country. Do you have any idea what happens to people

"I’m initiating the handshake now," Pim barked, her hands hovering inches above the touch-sensitive glass. "If I can trigger the bypass, the dump will execute in one continuous, unavoidable wave. It won't just hit our mother’s private cloud. It will broadcast everything to every public receiver, every news aggregator, and every government transparency portal in the country. It’s not just a deletion—it’s an autopsy."Chalida lunged toward the console, her hands trembling as she braced herself against the cool edge of the desk. "Pim, stop! Look at the upload progress bar. It’s at ninety-eight percent! If you trigger the dump now while the transfer is active, the feedback loop could liquefy our own hard drives. It could trap us in here.""Let it liquefy," Pim shot back, her eyes wide, reflecting the frantic, strobe-like pulsing of the dying server room. "Would you rather be trapped in this room or spend the rest of our lives trapped in her simulation? I’d rather face the wreckage than li

"Look!" Pim shouted, pointing at the wall-mounted screens that had somehow survived the initial surge.Every single display in the penthouse was now flooded with text—cascading, relentless, and unforgiving. It was the entire history of Minister Somsri’s rise: the shell companies, the illicit surveillance contracts, the bribes paid to local governors, and the cold, calculated destruction of her political rivals. It was all there, scrolling at a speed that human eyes could barely track, pouring out of the penthouse and into the digital veins of Bangkok.Chalida stood, her breath hitching in her chest as she watched the notifications pile up. The world outside the windows began to change. Phones across the city, currently held by millions of people, started to buzz in unison. "It’s doing it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the dying hum of the server racks. "It’s burning her to the ground. Every citizen, every journalist, every political opponent... they’re getting the file

"Where?" Chalida asked, her voice regaining its sharp, defensive edge. She wiped a smudge of soot from her forehead, her eyes darting toward the heavy, reinforced mahogany door that led to the corridor. Outside, the muffled thud of boots against marble echoed through the silence. "We can’t just walk out into the street, Pim. Not with our faces plastered on every billboard in the city. The moment we’re spotted, we’re either getting lynched by an angry mob or arrested by whatever’s left of the internal security forces."Pim pushed herself off the console, her legs unsteady. She gripped a jagged piece of loose casing from the server rack, feeling the sharp edge bite into her palm. Pain was grounding. It was real. "We don’t go to the street. We go through the service shaft behind the kitchen. If we make it to the basement, we can hit the emergency ventilation tunnel that connects to the old drainage system under the district.""The sewers?" Chalida laughed, a dry, humorless sound that lac