Chapter 20
The system responded with clear surprise:
[Host, why are you not choosing your gift now?]
Solomon replied calmly, "I'm not ready yet. I feel hungry."
With that, he walked out of the dark corner with his hands in his pockets and stepped onto the main road. Now, he had to wait for a taxi. He had no other means of
transportation available at the moment. He pulled out his phone and called for a ride-sharing service. After about thirty minutes of waiting, a car finally pulled up, and Solomon climbed into the back seat.
The driver glanced at Solomon's school uniform in the rearview mirror. It looked clean and well-kept, making the driver assume that Solomon didn't seem like the type who would usually order a budget ride.
Solomon had changed into the school uniform earlier for his own reasons, but it left the driver jumping to conclusions.
Maybe he's some rich kid from a higher class… or maybe he's just pretending to be wealthy, the driver thought skeptically.
"Take me to the D-Class District," Solomon said.
The driver's eyes widened slightly, a puzzled expression crossing his face. Why would someone who looked like they belonged to a wealthy class want to go deep into the D-Class District? What business could he possibly have there? Or was this boy actually just a poor kid putting on a front?
With those thoughts racing through his head, the driver glanced back at Solomon with a judgmental smirk.
"Get in," the driver said, his voice now carrying a distinct sneer, completely stripped of any professionalism or respect.
Solomon noticed the shift in the man's attitude but chose to say nothing. His eyes lingered on the driver's face for a silent moment before he looked out the window. The car began to move, navigating the streets toward the D-Class Area.
When the vehicle finally dropped him off, Solomon stepped onto the familiar streets of the D-Class District. Most of his neighbors were already outside, some lounging on porches, others just casually watching the road.
A prominent auntie from the neighborhood approached him. She was a plump, full-figured woman with dark hair tied neatly into two buns. She looked at Solomon with a teasing, knowing smile.
"Solomon! You look rich these days, huh? You're even taking an Uber now. When did you cash out and get so wealthy? And you couldn't even share your blessings with your neighbors? You should've let us celebrate with you!"
Solomon looked at the woman. He knew she didn't mean any real harm—she was just another nosy voice in the D-Class, exactly like everyone else around here. He didn't blame her; it was simply how people survived the boredom of the slums.
He responded with a single, calm line:
"Auntie, one day I'll give you something."
The woman's eyes widened in surprise.
"Really? You're actually going to give me something?"
Solomon nodded firmly. "Yes."
Then, without another word, he walked away with his hands in his pockets, heading straight toward his household.
"Solomon dear, you're back from school so late. What happened? Is everything alright?"
The first person he saw when he stepped inside was his grandmother. She was sitting on an old, worn-out chair with her legs crossed, carefully blowing on a bowl of rice.
The sun outside was harsh, and even the small patch of shade she sat under couldn't fully shield her from the heat. They lived in a simple concrete house—functional enough, but far from modern or comfortable.
Solomon walked over to her, took her fragile hand gently, and kissed it.
"Good evening, Grandma," he greeted her warmly.
His grandmother nodded, and Solomon immediately asked, "Where is Yuvia? Where's Laura? Where is everyone?"
"Yuvia and Laura went to the market," his grandmother replied, adjusting herself. "Your Aunt Clara isn't around either—she went out to take care of some business."
Solomon nodded silently. After a brief pause, he asked, "Grandma, what shall I eat today? I'm really hungry." He let out a deep, tired yawn, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him.
His grandmother smiled gently. "Your food is already made, dear. It's covered in a warm insulated box for you in the kitchen."
"Thanks," Solomon replied with a grateful nod.
He had fifty million dollars sitting in a system wallet, yet he could barely spend a dime of it freely. Every single purchase required a strict purpose, a mission, or a system-approved justification. He couldn't just wire his grandmother money for new furniture without the system flagging it as an unauthorized luxury and slashing his cashback rate to zero. Not yet. Not until he mastered the full scope of the rules. He filed the thought away under "fix this soon" and walked deeper into the house, heading straight for the kitchen.
He located the food box, uncovered it, and sat down to eat. Right now, his priority was filling his empty stomach. Only after that could he afford to think about anything related to the system.
As he ate, he kept wondering about the system's Blind Boxes. What could possibly be hidden inside them? More importantly, should he risk opening one right now? Was his luck currently running high or low?
Mulling over these questions, Solomon finished the last bite of his meal, cleared away the dishes, and went to sit on his bed with his legs crossed. He summoned the rewards, and the three Blind Box packages appeared instantly, floating in the air before him. They pulsed with the same familiar blue and red glow.
Solomon locked his eyes onto the box in the middle, his finger hovering just above the ethereal ribbon. Then he glanced at the one on the left, and finally the one on the right.
Deciding to trust his gut, he shifted his finger directly above the Blind Box that sat in the...