Lucien begins to understand that changing his life isn't just about having power—it's about knowing how and when to use it.~~~~~~
The coworking space he'd gained access to thanks to his last record was located in a sleek blue-glass tower at the crossroads of two avenues Lucien usually avoided out of financial instinct. Just looking at the restaurants, boutiques, and valet-serviced cafés made him feel quietly out of place, like he didn't belong.
But this time, he stepped up to the reception desk with the same calm he used to open his laptop every day.
—Lucien Voss. I have a temporary membership.
The receptionist, a woman with round glasses and a tight bun, looked at him over the rim of her frames.
—One moment.
Lucien kept his hands in his pockets. No anxiety. No rush. When the system gives you something, you learn quickly to take it as if it was already yours.
—Confirmed. 24th floor. East wing shared space. Free coffee and access to small meeting rooms —she said, handing him a printed access card: white, with his name in black.
First real impact.
It wasn't a fortune. Not a car. Not fame.
But it was presence.
As the elevator doors closed, Lucien exhaled slowly.
He wasn't nervous. He was alert.
That building was filled with people who were, in theory, better than him. Wealthier. Better connected. More influential.
But he had something none of them could buy:
a way to rewrite reality.
The coworking space was exactly what he'd imagined: light wood tables, open laptops, people talking with wireless earbuds, and that tense energy in the air that always seemed to hover around large amounts of money—unspoken, but present.
He chose a table near the window. Opened his laptop.
He had three new translation assignments:
One, a technical guide for a renewable energy company.
Another, a financial document in French.
The last, an NDA between two startups.
He opened the first.
He worked without thinking about the system.
Just worked.
For nearly three hours, he typed, edited, rewrote.
When he finished, he stretched his neck and looked out the window. From the 24th floor, the city looked like a quiet model.
And for the first time in days, he felt like part of the board.
Around noon, he went down to the lobby café. Not out of hunger, but for observation.
He needed to read the body language of the people who lived the life he was only just beginning to touch.
He ordered a double espresso. Sat alone.
A few minutes later, a female voice cut into his thoughts.
—Can I sit here?
He looked up.
Straight dark hair in a low ponytail. Beige blouse with no accessories. Laptop in one hand, a sharp executive vibe in the other.
She wasn't smiling. Wasn't flirting. Just asking.
—Go ahead.
She sat down. Opened her laptop. Typed for a couple of minutes. Then looked up.
—You look like you don't belong here… but also like you don't care.
Lucien smiled.
—Is that a critique or a compliment?
—A diagnosis.
—You a doctor?
—Risk analyst.
—Close enough.
She leaned back slightly. Checked her watch.
—Are you looking to raise funds?
—Why?
—Because if you're not, you should be. You've got that look.
—What look?
—The look of someone who's trying to prove something, but hasn't decided if he's going to do it above or below the table.
Lucien didn't respond. Took a sip of his coffee. She nodded.
—See? Confirmed.
—You work for a firm?
—Independent. And good. Good enough that the suit guys hate me.
Lucien held her gaze.
—Voss. Lucien Voss.
—Ingrid —she said, closing her laptop. —If you ever do something serious, it'd be smart to let me check the numbers before some cologne-spraying executive screws you over.
She handed him a card. Plain white, just her name and an encrypted email.
Then she left.
Just like that.
Lucien watched her go.
A connection. A name. An option.
The pieces were beginning to float.
That night he walked home.
No Uber. No dinner out.
He hadn't touched the $2,000 from the system.
He just ate bread with cheese and checked emails.
New translation requests had arrived. He accepted them.
And then, with little ceremony, he opened a new note.
Record #3:
"Today I didn't give up. I won't tomorrow either."
✔ Record accepted.
Reward: 10% boost to cognitive efficiency for 24 hours.
Rank: Persistence.
Exposure: +0.1%
No car. No company.
But while others slept, Lucien Voss was preparing.
~~~~
Over the following days, Lucien maintained an almost identical routine: working from the coworking space, translating legal or technical documents with surgical efficiency, and observing. Always observing.
The system didn't speak to him again spontaneously. No pop-ups, no cryptic emails. It was as if it were waiting, patiently, for him to choose his own pace. And he wasn't about to rush.
He used one of his records on the afternoon of the fourth day:
"I'm building something I don't yet understand."
✔ Record accepted.
Reward: Early access to a database of emerging startups.
Access time: 3 days.
Rank: Exploration.
Exposure: +0.2%
Nothing flashy. But that made it all the more interesting.
The system seemed to value intention more than noise.
And Lucien, by nature, was never loud.
That night, from his bed, he browsed the newly granted database. Some companies didn't even have an official name yet. Projects still in idea phase, barely functional prototypes—but with potential.
One caught his attention.
"Hiventek"
A small group of developers working on a self-learning security plugin for large-scale servers. Nothing glamorous, but... stable.
Lucien didn't have the money to invest directly. But he could do something.
He searched for the founder's contact. Found it on LinkedIn.
He sent a short, professional message—no overselling:
"I've read about your proposal. Would you be interested in a technical review of your documents translated for international markets? I freelance with emerging startups."
The next day, he received a reply:
"Hi Lucien. Thanks for the interest. We haven't translated anything yet, but we could use someone with external perspective. Interested in a small equity exchange? We can offer 0.3% in return for some early help with pitch decks and English interface work."
Lucien smiled.
A tiny step. But real.
Not an illusion from the system. Not a direct reward.
A move made by him, thanks to an advantage granted in silence.
He accepted.
A few days later, he ran into Ingrid again at the lobby café. This time, she greeted him first.
—You look more awake than last week —she commented, crossing her legs as she sat down across from him.
—Slept six hours. That's a luxury.
—Liar. You're up to something.
Lucien tilted his head.
—Do you always analyze everything you see?
—Yes. And I'm rarely wrong —she said, eyeing him over her cup. —Did you invest in something?
—Small collaboration with a startup. They offered a tiny stake in exchange for language support.
—That's not small. That's patient.
—What's the difference?
—People who invest big think buying is power. Those who get involved before the wheel turns... they're shaping direction.
Lucien stayed silent. Ingrid watched him with more interest than the last time.
—And if you wanted to scale faster? —she asked.
—Why assume I want to?
—Because you're here —she said simply. —And because you don't spend like the others.
—Watching is part of the game too.
—Only if you've got time.
Lucien gave a brief smile.
Ingrid stood up. But before leaving, she handed him a different card than before.
—Call me if you come across something real. Something scalable. I'm not into dreams. I'm into direction.
Once she left, Lucien held the card between his fingers for a moment.
It had her personal number.
She'd taken the next step.
That night, on his way home, he stopped in front of a clothing store. Not a luxury brand, but far above his usual spending range. White hand-ironed shirts. Dark leather shoes. Coats that looked like they belonged to men who dictated the future.
He didn't go in.
He just stared.
And thought:
I won't wear a suit until I've earned it. Not before.
Back home, he prepared white rice with tuna and some avocado. His usual dinner. Simple, nutritious, cheap.
Then, at his desk, he opened a new note.
Record #4:
"I don't need to impress. I just need to advance."
✔ Record accepted.
Reward: Permanent 40% discount on formalwear purchases in three selected stores.
Rank: Philosophy of Progress.
Exposure: +0.3%
Useful. Precise. Fair.
The system listened. But it didn't flatter him.
A few days later, he received an unexpected email. Not from the system.
From the company for which he'd translated that first long contract in the middle of the night.
"Dear Lucien, one of our partners read the translation you recently delivered. We'd like to offer you a more stable arrangement. Are you open to a monthly collaboration contract?"
It wasn't a spectacular offer.
But it was the first time someone came back to him… without him chasing after them.
Lucien replied affirmatively. No rush. No eagerness.
Outside his window, the city looked the same.
But inside him, something wasn't.