Eric Sanders, my dorm mate and one of my best friends, had a girlfriend named Emily Parker, a sophomore at our university. Eric was the athletic one among us, all lean muscle and restless energy, but his heart was what defined him lately.
He'd fallen hard for Emily after a brutal breakup with his ex, who'd dumped him for some other guy. It was a low point for him, and I'd seen the toll it took—late nights at the dorm, staring at the ceiling, barely talking.
Emily changed that, bringing him back to life in a way that made me almost jealous of their connection.
Eric's family wasn't loaded, but they were solid—middle-class, with enough to cover his tuition and keep him from scraping by like me.
His parents ran a small hardware company back home, and he'd grown up helping out, learning to charm customers with that easy grin of his.
It gave him a stability I envied, a safety net I'd never had as an orphan. He didn't flaunt it, though; Eric was the kind of guy who'd split his last CRD with you if you needed it. That's why Emily's presence in his life felt like a win for all of us.
I'd heard the story of how they met a dozen times, usually over late-night ramen when Eric got chatty. He'd been at a bar, drowning his sorrows after the breakup, when Emily sat down next to him.
She wasn't there to flirt—she was just waiting for a friend—but she noticed his mood and started talking, her kindness cutting through his fog. "She didn't treat me like I was broken," he'd told me once, his eyes soft.
That was Emily: caring, grounded, with a smile that could make you forget your problems.
Eric wasn't a stranger to hard work, balancing his gym sessions and part-time job at a campus gym. His family's support meant he didn't have to grind as hard as I did, but he still hustled, saving up for dates with Emily or little gifts to make her smile.
It was weird seeing him so smitten, but it suited him. The guy who used to shrug off relationships was now planning his weekends around her, and I couldn't help but root for him.
The four of us—Ryan, Jason, Eric, and me—had become a family, but Eric's new happiness with Emily added a new layer to our dynamic.
He'd bring her to the dorm sometimes, and she'd fit right in, laughing at Ryan's dumb jokes or helping Jason with his chem notes. She was part of us now, and I could see why Eric was so gone for her.
But it also made me feel my own loneliness a bit sharper, like I was still chasing something they'd already found.
Eric's love for Emily was instant, a lightning strike he couldn't shake. He'd met her at that bar when he was at his lowest, nursing a cheap drink and replaying his ex's betrayal.
Emily's gentle questions—nothing pushy, just genuine—had pulled him out of his spiral. "She asked about my day, like she actually cared," he'd said, grinning like an idiot.
From that night, he was hooked, talking about her nonstop until Ryan threatened to duct-tape his mouth shut.
He pursued her for three months, relentless but not creepy. Eric wasn't the type to play games; he was all in, showing up at her favorite coffee shop, leaving notes in her mailbox, even joining her study group to get closer.
"I probably looked like a stalker," he'd laugh, but Emily saw the effort, the way he lit up around her. She was cautious at first, still healing from her own past, but Eric's persistence and goofy charm wore her down.
By the time they got together, it felt like a victory for all of us. Eric was back to his old self, maybe better—less guarded, more open.
He'd bring Emily to our late-night hangouts, and she'd tease him about his terrible taste in music while he pretended to be offended.
Their banter was easy, natural, and it made me wonder what it'd be like to have someone like that. But I was too busy with my own grind—jobs, classes, and now this bizarre system—to dwell on it.
Emily was good for Eric, no question. She grounded him, gave him something to fight for beyond the gym or his part-time gig.
He'd tell me about their dates—movies, walks by the river, her laughing at his bad puns—and I could hear the shift in his voice, like he'd found a piece of himself he didn't know was missing.
It was sappy, but it made me happy for him, even if it reminded me how far I was from anything like that.
One night, Eric burst into the dorm, all nervous energy, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.
"Yo, Noah, I need a favor," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "Can I borrow that watch of yours? The thrift store one? Emily and I have a date tonight, and I wanna look sharp."
I nearly choked on my water, the Lorvex Éclat Prime heavy on my wrist. Sixty million CRD, and he thought it was a ten-CRD bargain.
"Uh, this?" I said, lifting my arm, my voice cracking. "It's… kinda special, man."
Eric's face fell, but his enthusiasm didn't waver. "Come on, Noah, just for tonight. I'll take care of it, I swear. Emily's gonna love it."
I hesitated, my stomach twisting. That watch could buy a house, and here I was, about to hand it over for a date. But Eric's hopeful grin was too much.
"Fine," I sighed, slipping it off. "Don't lose it, okay?"
He beamed, clapping my shoulder. "You're the man, Noah!"
As he bolted out, I wilted, sinking onto the couch, already regretting it when I felt Ryan and Jason's eyes on me from across the room, their smirks practically audible.
"What?" I snapped, my face heating up.
Ryan leaned back, arms crossed, grinning like he'd caught me stealing. "You're acting like you just gave Eric your firstborn, not a watch."
Jason pushed up his glasses, chuckling. "Yeah, man, you looked like you were gonna cry. Got a crush on Eric or what?"
My flush deepened, and I threw a cushion at them. "It's the watch, you idiots! Not Eric!"
They dodged, laughing harder. "Sure, Noah, it's the watch," Ryan said, winking. "You were clutching it like it's your precious."
I groaned, rubbing my face. "It's just… a nice find, okay? I don't want it getting scratched."
Jason raised an eyebrow, still smirking. "Relax, man. Eric's not gonna pawn it. Probably."
I forced a laugh, but my heart was racing. If they knew the watch was worth 60 million CRD, they'd never let me live it down—or worse, they'd start asking questions I couldn't answer.
I waved them off, muttering about needing to study, and they let it go, still chuckling. The dorm quieted as they turned back to their laptops, but I could feel their glances, like they were trying to figure me out.
I sat there, my wrist feeling naked without the watch, wondering how I'd explain it if Eric dropped it or, God forbid, someone recognized it. The system's voice echoed in my head, urging composure, but I was a mess, caught between relief and panic.
Finally alone in my room, I decided to get ahead of the system for once. Before it could pop up with another lecture, I closed my eyes and focused, slipping into the subspace.
The white room materialized, and I started practicing—walking with purpose, practicing formal greetings, even mimicking that calm, smug smile the system kept pushing.
"If I'm gonna wear a 60-million-CRD watch," I muttered, "I better act like it."
I spent hours there, refining my posture, my tone, until my mind ached but my movements felt smoother, more natural.
The next morning, I stepped out of my room, and something felt different. Ryan and Jason were at the table, eating cereal, but their eyes followed me as I moved.
I grabbed a bowl, trying to act normal, but Ryan tilted his head, squinting. He feels like nothing of Noah anymore—his walk was steadier, his shoulders squared, like he was carrying himself with a purpose he couldn't place.
"He's not slouching," Ryan thought, crunching his cereal. "And the way he's holding that spoon? Like he's at a fancy dinner. What's with him?"
Jason noticed it too, his analytical mind clocking every detail. He watched Noah pour milk with a weird precision, my movements deliberate, almost graceful.
"Noah's always been sharp, but this is… different," he thought, adjusting his glasses.
"He's got this aura, like he's playing a part. A prince, maybe? Nah, that's crazy."
But the thought stuck, especially when them when I answered Ryan's casual "Morning" with a nod that felt too polished, too controlled. Jason frowned, trying to pin it down.
Ryan lingered on the little things—how Noah didn't slump into the chair, how his steps had a rhythm, like he was walking onto a stage.
"He's been off for days," Ryan thought, remembering Noah's "naps" and that weird thrift store watch. "It's like he's leveling up or something."
He didn't say it out loud, but the change was undeniable. Noah wasn't just their broke, nerdy friend anymore; he was carrying himself like he belonged somewhere bigger, and it threw him off.
By noon, they couldn't ignore it. Jason set down his coffee, staring at me as I ate a sandwich with an annoying amount of poise.
"Okay, Noah, what's up with you?" he asked, his voice half-joking, half-serious. "You're acting… fancy. Like, prince-level fancy. What's the deal?"
I froze, my sandwich halfway to my mouth, and laughed it off. "Fancy? Me? Come on, I'm just eating." But my heart raced—had I overdone it?
Ryan chimed in, smirking. "Nah, man, Jason's right. You're walking like you own the place. You secretly a billionaire or what?"
I forced a grin, shaking my head. "You guys are delusional. I'm the same broke Noah. Maybe I'm just… standing up straighter."
Jason squinted, not buying it. "Sure, man. But if you start wearing a crown, we're staging an intervention."
I laughed, deflecting, but their words hit hard. The system's training was working—too well.
I slipped back to my room, my stomach twisting. Alone again, I whispered, "System, am I that obvious?"
The screen flickered to life: ⟪Your changes are noticeable, Noah. This is progress. A young master stands out, but subtly. Continue refining.⟫
I sighed, rubbing my neck. "Great. Now I'm a walking red flag."
The system didn't argue, which only made me more nervous. If my best friends were noticing, how was I supposed to "show off" without blowing my cover?
At noon, Eric texted me, his message popping up as I was leaving class.
–>[Yo, Noah, can you grab a courier package for me? Still out with Emily, can't make it. I'll owe you dinner.]
I groaned, picturing the six flights of stairs to our dorm.
[Six floors, man,]<–
I texted back, but he replied with a string of pleading emojis and a promise of pizza.
"Fine," I muttered, pocketing my phone.
I was still on edge about the watch, but a free meal was hard to pass up, so I headed to the campus mailroom to pick up his package.
The climb was as brutal as I'd feared, my legs burning by the time I dropped the box on Eric's bed. I was tempted to open it, but I resisted—barely.
When Eric got back that afternoon, he was all smiles, thanking me with a fist bump. "You're a lifesaver, Noah," he said, tossing his jacket aside.
I nodded at the box. "What's in it, anyway?"
He grinned, a little sheepish. "Beauty stuff for Emily. Creams, makeup, that kind of thing. Thought she'd like it."
Ryan, sprawled on the couch, perked up. "Beauty products? Dude, you're whipped," he said, laughing.
Jason joined in, pushing up his glasses. "What's next, Eric? Painting her nails?"
Eric rolled his eyes, but his grin didn't fade. "Laugh all you want, but she's worth it. You'll get it when you're not single."
I smirked, tossing a pillow at him. "Careful, man, you're gonna start carrying her purse next."
Eric caught the pillow, laughing. "Worth it for the pizza I'm buying you, Noah."
Then Eric turned to me, holding out the Lorvex Éclat Prime. "Here's your watch back, man. Thanks again."
I slipped it on, my heart racing as its weight settled on my wrist.
"So, where's that thrift store you got it from?" he asked, casual but curious. I froze, my smile stiffening.
"Oh, uh, it's gone. Closed down last week," I said, the lie spilling out too fast.
Eric shrugged, nodding. "Too bad. That thing's dope."
I forced a laugh, my face tight, amazed they believed me again. I couldn't help but sigh in relief inwardly as Eric turned away, oblivious to the 60-million-CRD truth on my wrist.
My smile froze, caught between panic and disbelief. The system's game was getting riskier, and I was barely keeping up.