As we settled around the long, polished table in the private suite, silence fell, heavy and awkward.
The velvet chairs creaked softly under our weight, and the city skyline sparkled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the quiet was deafening. My mind was a whirlwind.
These guys—Michael, Daniel, Ethan, Lucas, Adam—were barely older than me, maybe a year or two, yet they were already running companies.
Car dealerships, real estate, jewelry, gaming, beverages. I was 22, scraping by with nothing, and here I was, sharing a table with Auremouth's young elite, pretending I belonged.
I kept my hands still, resting lightly on the table as the system had taught me, but inside, I was reeling. How did I end up here, in a private suite at Maison Étoile, with five strangers who probably had more CRD in their wallets than I'd see in a lifetime?
The system's evaluation was in full swing, and I felt like a fraud, my white polo and black pants a flimsy disguise against their designer threads.
I stole glances at them, trying to read their faces. Michael's sharp eyes, Daniel's broad shoulders, Ethan's reserved frown, Lucas's easy grin, Adam's quiet intensity—they all carried themselves like they owned the world.
I'd trained for this, hours in the subspace perfecting every gesture, but sitting here, I felt like a kid playing dress-up.
"Stay calm, Noah Theylenor,"
I whispered to myself, mimicking the system's cool tone. The silence stretched, and I knew I had to act before it swallowed me whole.
My heart pounded, but I leaned back slightly, forcing a relaxed posture. These guys were successful, sure, but I had the system on my side. It had gotten me this far—into a suite I had no business being in.
I just needed to keep it together, act the part, and pass this evaluation. The attendants' reverence when I'd said my name still nagged at me.
Why had they frozen? What had the system done? I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the present. I couldn't let these guys see me sweat.
The table was set with crystal glasses and silver cutlery, each piece probably worth more than my dorm's rent. I felt the system's presence, like an invisible judge, watching every move.
"You're a young master now, Noah Theylenor," I told myself, gripping the thought like a lifeline.
These guys might be real deal, but I had to fake it until I made it. The silence was suffocating, and I knew I'd have to break it soon, or I'd crack under the pressure.
Michael Brooks, seated across from Noah, felt a knot in his stomach as he took in the private suite.
This wasn't just any room at Maison Étoile—it was reserved for VVIPs, the kind of people who ran Auremouth: heads of the city's major families, high-ranking government officials, or CEOs of Veyloria's biggest conglomerates.
He'd dined here before, but never in a suite like this. Noah's presence, looked around 22-year-old in a simple polo, didn't add up.
"Who is this guy?" Michael thought, his game company's success feeling small in this room.
Daniel Hughes shifted in his chair, his broad frame tense. He'd dealt cars to Auremouth's elite, but even he hadn't scored a suite like this.
"Theylenor," he repeated in his head, the name unfamiliar but heavy with the attendants' reaction.
Was Noah some heir they'd never heard of? A prodigy hiding in plain sight? Daniel's dealership thrived on connections, and missing someone like Noah felt like a failure.
"He's too calm for a nobody," Daniel thought, his confidence shaken.
Ethan Cole, usually detached, couldn't ignore the suite's opulence. His beverage company was growing, but it wasn't conglomerate-level, not yet.
Noah's reserved demeanor, paired with that noble etiquette and temperament, screamed wealth, but his outfit didn't match.
"Is he slumming it on purpose?"
Ethan wondered, his thin fingers tapping his glass. The attendants' deference suggested power, but Noah's youth and simplicity threw him off. Ethan hated being out of the loop, and Noah was a puzzle he couldn't solve.
Lucas Bennett, always the optimist, tried to focus on the view, but even he felt uneasy. His real estate deals put him in rooms with Auremouth's elite, but this suite was next-level.
"Maybe he's a tech genius," Lucas thought, grinning to himself. "Or some secret child."
But the doubt lingered—Noah's name had floored the staff, and Lucas's usual charm felt inadequate. He glanced at his friends, their unease mirroring his own. Whoever Noah was, he wasn't just some guy.
Adam Reed's sharp eyes kept drifting to Noah's watch, his jewelry expertise tingling with suspicion. The suite's exclusivity was a shock—only Veyloria's top tier dined here.
"Theylenor's not a name I know,"
Adam thought, his mind racing through Auremouth's elite families. Noah's calm, almost effortless presence didn't fit his plain clothes.
Was he hiding his status? Adam's own success felt fragile in this room, and Noah's mystery gnawed at him, a riddle he needed to crack.
I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. The silence was unbearable, and the system's invisible gaze pushed me to act.
The servers arrived, their movements precise, waiting for our orders. I leaned forward, smiling slightly, and broke the ice.
"So, gentlemen, what do you recommend here?"
I asked, my voice steady, like I dined in places like this every day. Michael blinked, then smiled back.
"You're the host, Noah. Your call." The others nodded, passing the decision to me, their politeness tinged with curiosity.
I glanced at the menu, its prices making my stomach lurch—12,000 CRD for a starter, 50,000 for a main. The system's promise to cover the bill was my only anchor.
"Let's go all out," I said, channeling the young master vibe. "I'll take the truffle-encrusted wagyu, and the 2-million-CRD Château Veylor. For the table."
The server nodded, unfazed, but I saw Ethan's eyebrows twitch. "Good choice,"
Michael said, his tone probing. "You come here often?"
"Not often," I said, keeping it vague, my smile practiced. "But I like to treat myself."
Lucas chuckled, raising his glass. "Man after my own heart. I'll have the lobster thermidor." The others ordered—Daniel's steak, Ethan's fish, Adam's risotto—all high-end, their eyes on me as if waiting for a slip.
I kept my posture perfect, my hands steady, thanking the subspace for drilling this into me.
The system chimed: ⟪Well done, Noah Theylenor. Maintain composure.⟫
The food arrived, each plate a work of art, and I navigated the cutlery like a pro, the system's training guiding my hands. The wine, poured like liquid gold, cost more than my tuition, but I sipped it calmly, hiding my awe.
The group relaxed as we ate, their wariness easing, but I felt the system's eyes on every move. I was walking a tightrope, balancing their curiosity with my facade.
"You're killing it, Noah Theylenor," I told myself, but the pressure was relentless.
Michael raised his glass, toasting "to new friends," and I clinked mine against his, hoping I could keep this up until the end.
The courses arrived, each more extravagant than the last, and we ate in a cautious harmony, the clink of cutlery filling the suite.
Adam, seated to the right, kept glancing at Noah's watch, his sharp eyes narrowing. As a jewelry company owner, he knew his stuff, and the Lorvex Éclat Prime was no ordinary piece.
I caught his stare, my pulse quickening, but I kept my expression neutral, slicing my wagyu with precision. He didn't say anything, but his focus was unsettling, like he was piecing something together.
Adam's mind was a storm. He'd seen Lorvex pieces before—his company dealt in custom designs—but the Éclat Prime was a legend, one of only five in existence, worth 60 million CRD.
"That's no thrift store find," he thought, his fork pausing mid-air.
Noah's simple outfit and young age didn't match the watch's rarity. Was he an heir? A collector? Adam's own success felt small next to this mystery, and doubt crept in. Had he misjudged Noah?
The watch's gems caught the light, taunting him. Adam knew the Lorvex catalog by heart—his clients begged for their pieces. The Éclat Prime was a status symbol, worn by Veyloria's top tier, not a 22-year-old in a polo.
"He's not just some kid," Adam thought, his confidence shaken.
Noah's calm, the suite, the attendants' reverence—it all pointed to something bigger. Adam's instinct screamed to dig deeper, but he held back, not wanting to look foolish in front of his friends.
He watched Noah sip his wine, every move deliberate, like he'd been trained for this. "Maybe he's playing us," Adam thought, his suspicion growing.
The others seemed oblivious, laughing at Lucas's story about a botched property deal, but Adam couldn't shake it. The watch was real—he'd bet his company on it.
But why was Noah here, alone, acting like this was normal? Adam's world, built on knowing who's who in Auremouth, felt unsteady.
Finally, Adam stood, grabbing the wine bottle with a smooth smile.
"Let me," he said, filling Noah's nearly empty glass.
His hand was steady, but his mind raced. If Noah was who the watch suggested, serving him was a smart move—a gesture of respect in their elite circles. He sat back down, watching Noah's reaction, searching for a clue to crack the enigma of Noah Theylenor.
I froze for a split second as Adam filled my glass, my mind scrambling. Why was he doing this? In the subspace, the system had taught me that serving others was a power move, a way to show deference to someone higher up.
But me? I was just Noah Theylenor, a broke student with a system and a watch I couldn't explain. I nodded, keeping my face calm.
"Thanks, Adam," I said, my voice steady, accepting the gesture like it was natural.
The others didn't blink—Michael kept talking, Daniel nodded along, Ethan sipped his wine, Lucas grinned.
To them, Adam's move was normal, just etiquette among the elite. I sipped the wine, its taste lost on me, and forced a smile. Inside, I was a mess.
"What are you playing at, system?" I thought, feeling its silent judgment.
⟪You're handling this well, Noah Theylenor. Continue.⟫
The praise was small comfort; I was in over my head, and Adam's sharp eyes told me he knew something.
I kept up the act, laughing at Lucas's jokes, asking Ethan about his energy drinks, all while the system graded every word. The watch felt heavier, Adam's glance lingering on it.
I tucked my wrist under the table, praying he wouldn't call me out. The dinner was a performance, and I was the lead, but one wrong move could ruin everything.
"Just get through this, Noah," I told myself, my heart racing as the servers cleared the plates.
The dinner ended, the plates gone, the wine bottles empty. Michael leaned back, smiling. "Great call on the suite, Noah. Thanks for letting us crash."
I nodded, forcing ease. "Anytime."
They offered me a ride back, their sleek cars probably worth millions of CRD, but I waved them off. "I'm good, thanks."
Daniel raised an eyebrow, but they didn't push, saying their goodbyes with handshakes and promises to "do this again."
I stepped into the cool night air, the subway station a short walk from Maison Étoile's glowing facade. The train was quieter now, the rush-hour crowd gone.
I sank into a seat, the Lorvex Éclat Prime hidden under my sleeve, and sighed, relief flooding me. The evaluation was over, and I'd survived—barely. My mind replayed Adam's stare, the group's questions, the system's cryptic prompts.
"I did it, Noah Theylenor,"
I whispered, but the weight of the night lingered, and I wondered what the system's verdict would be.