As soon as Doug Feng stepped out of the office, a wave of panic crashed over him.
"Crap! How could I forget?" he slapped his forehead. "The lottery ticket! It's still at Ms. Fang's place!"
That wasn't just any ticket—it was worth millions! Doug's entire future, his destiny, was lying somewhere in that house. Probably in the bathroom. Probably crumpled up like trash. Probably seconds away from being tossed out with the morning paper.
"I have to get back there somehow…" he muttered, pacing back and forth mentally, completely oblivious to the fact that he was now walking straight into a wall of problems.
Back in class, Doug couldn't focus on a single word. English grammar? Who cared? Biology quiz? Who had time? His entire mental bandwidth was taken up with plotting Operation: Retrieve That Damn Ticket.
The problem? After this morning's accidental peeping incident—which had ended with Ms. Fang glaring at him like he'd burned her favorite romance novel—there was no way she'd let him set foot in her house again. At least, not without a miracle.
"Dude, what's up with you today?" his desk mate Howie nudged him during dismissal, slinging his backpack lazily over one shoulder. "You've been zoning out all day. Is it because of tomorrow's placement test?"
Doug blinked. "Huh?"
"You know, the third mock exam? The one that determines our rankings going into the final month? The one that might actually affect your college recs?"
"Oh. Right. That."
"Anyway, forget all that. Let's hit the net café. One quick StarCraft match to blow off steam?" Howie grinned like a devil on a sugar high.
Doug snorted. "Go to hell, Howie. I'm a reformed man. A good student now. I'm gonna focus."
The old Doug—pre-rebirth, lottery-losing, hopeless-slacker Doug—would've jumped at the chance for some late-night gaming. But not the new Doug. Not when there were millions on the line and a life to rebuild.
Howie raised an eyebrow. "You? Good student? Don't kid yourself. I've known you since you were six. You can't go three days without slacking. Your 'study streaks' are shorter than your attention span."
Doug smirked. "Wanna bet?"
Howie folded his arms. "Bet what?"
"I'm gonna ace tomorrow's exam. Top the class. First place."
The class, which had been steadily emptying out, suddenly paused like someone hit a mute button. Heads turned. Some snorted. One guy actually dropped his water bottle.
Howie stared. "You? First place?"
"Yep. Watch me."
From the back of the room, someone let out a loud cackle. "Doug Feng, are you delusional, or just bored?"
It was Luke Xi—vice class rep, model student, and grade-A smug bastard. His scores were only ever beaten by one person: the class goddess herself, Linda Fang.
Luke stepped forward, brushing imaginary lint off his neatly ironed uniform. "Let's be real. The best you've ever done is 37th place. You think you can suddenly leap over thirty-six people? Including me?"
Doug shrugged. "I've got motivation."
"Oh, don't tell me," Luke sneered. "You're planning to woo our class goddess, too? Gonna beat Linda's score and win her heart in one fell swoop?"
The mention of Linda Fang drew more heads. She was still standing at the classroom door, calm as ever, arms folded. Her eyes met Doug's briefly.
She'd heard everything.
But to everyone's surprise, she didn't laugh. She didn't even roll her eyes. She just raised an eyebrow, like someone vaguely interested in watching a fly attempt calculus.
Truth was, she'd heard this exact line dozens of times. Every boy who fancied himself clever or charming had said it at some point. "I'll beat your score, then you'll be mine."
Linda's standard response? "Beat me first. Then talk."
Only no one ever did.
She turned to leave without a word. No ridicule. No retort.
Which somehow made Doug's challenge feel even heavier.
But Doug was undeterred. After all, he had something none of these people knew about—the system.
More importantly, he'd just activated the system's Basic Intelligence Boost function this morning. It felt like the academic fog in his brain had lifted. Math formulas clicked. English vocab stuck. He could even read those god-awful chemistry equations without having a migraine.
"Doug Feng," Luke said, stepping up to him with that trademark smirk, "Let me save you the embarrassment. Even if you placed top ten, which would be a miracle, you'd still be thirty marks behind Linda. Maybe instead of pretending to be a genius, you should stick to lottery tickets."
That stung.
Especially because Luke had unknowingly hit a nerve. Doug was relying on a lottery ticket—just not the kind he meant.
Before Doug could fire back, Howie stepped in.
"Hey, Luke," he barked. "If you're allowed to dream about beating Linda someday, then so can my bro. Don't act like you own the top ranks. At least Doug dares to try."
Doug grinned. Howie might call him lazy and tease him about his grades, but when someone else took shots, the guy turned into a bulldog.
"Whatever," Luke muttered. "Come tomorrow, we'll see who gets the last laugh."
Doug slung his bag over his shoulder. "We will. And when I win, you're buying lunch for the whole class."
Laughter erupted again—but this time, mixed with a few curious stares. Was Doug actually serious? Had he really turned a new leaf?
No one could be sure.
But Doug Feng was.
He'd already aced the practice set from the textbook with barely any effort. The system was working. All he had to do was ride the momentum and hit hard tomorrow.
One good score wouldn't just shock everyone—it might be his ticket back into Ms. Fang's house.
After all, if he topped the class… maybe she'd be forced to invite him over for a celebration.
And that would be the perfect chance to retrieve the ticket.
Two birds. One grade.