The glowing prompt hovered in front of him, patient, insistent. Ethan's pulse hammered in his ears as he stared at the impossible numbers: one point, one hundred thousand dollars. The temptation clawed at him with every second that passed. He thought about his mother, about the stack of bills on their chipped kitchen table. He thought about his sister, still in her school uniform, hiding her worry behind a brave smile whenever she asked if everything would be alright.
For a long moment he couldn't breathe. The promise of money—real money, not imaginary numbers in some hidden interface—was too vast, too alien. He clenched his fists and forced himself to think. There had to be a catch. Nothing the system gave him came without strings.
Then a thought struck him like lightning.
The last mission.
He had completed it. He had defended a boy in the alley, fought off two grown men with the system's strange energy fueling him. The system had promised him rewards. He had never checked them in detail.
Heart racing, Ethan whispered, "Dashboard."
The air shimmered. Words unfolded across his vision, neat, ordered, mercilessly real.
--- [Money Deck System v1.0] ---
Name: Ethan Ivers
Balance: $0
System Points: 5
Ethan's jaw went slack. Five points. Five. He wasn't imagining it. They gleamed like stars across the dark interface, waiting for him to spend them.
So the exchange wasn't just a trick. If one point was worth a hundred thousand dollars, then those five points in his possession represented half a million. His entire life had been spent clawing to scrape together a few dollars, and here the system was, placing more than he could dream of at his fingertips.
His breath grew ragged. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to smash his fist through the wall just to feel something real.
But the mission's words loomed behind the numbers, dark and merciless.
Check in tonight with a suit in front of Twilight Hotel in downtown.
Reward: 5 System Points and $10,000.
Failure Penalty: Host death. Family debt will increase.
His body went cold. He looked at the points again, at the glowing "5" that felt like both salvation and a loaded gun pressed to his head.
If he failed, he would die. And his family would be dragged down with him.
He had no choice.
He needed a suit. He needed to survive tonight.
And there was only one way to do it.
His hand trembled as he reached toward the prompt.
"Exchange… two points."
The system flickered.
[Confirm Exchange: 2 SP → $200,000? Y/N]
His throat tightened. That was more money than he had ever seen, more than he had dared to imagine. It felt wrong, impossible. Yet the weight of the mission crushed hesitation. He forced out the word.
"Yes."
The cards blazed. His vision flared white, and then the numbers shifted.
System Points: 3Balance: $200,000
A chime sounded from his phone, sharp and startling in the silence of the dorm. Ethan jumped, fumbling for it. The screen glowed with a new notification from his bank app.
Deposit Received: $200,000.00
His breath caught. He stared at the glowing numbers until they blurred. He refreshed the app once, twice, three times. The balance remained. Two hundred thousand dollars.
It was real.
The phone slipped from his hands onto the bed, the weight of it too heavy to hold. He sat frozen, staring at nothing. His chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths.
He was rich. Just like that.
The shock rolled over him in waves. His entire life had been a fight against hunger, against debt, against the sneers of those who looked at him as less than nothing. And now, with the press of a button, he had stepped into their world. Two hundred thousand wasn't infinite, but it was more than enough to buy what he needed—and more than enough to prove that the system wasn't a hallucination.
Ethan forced himself to calm down, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't afford to lose himself now. This wasn't just money. This was survival. This was the mission.
He took one last look at the balance on his phone, committing the impossible number to memory. Then he shoved it into his pocket, stood, and grabbed his jacket. His reflection in the dorm mirror caught his eye—rumpled clothes, shadows under his eyes, the faintest hint of disbelief still clinging to his expression.
That wouldn't do. If the mission required him to appear at the Twilight Hotel in a suit, then he would need to look the part. Tonight, he couldn't afford to be the scholarship student with frayed cuffs. Tonight, he needed to pass as one of them—the heirs of wealth, the golden children of St. Helens' elite.
He stepped out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him, echoing in the empty corridor.
The dormitory was quieter now, most students still out celebrating the end of the days exams. The chandelier's warm glow spilled across the polished floor as Ethan walked briskly toward the entrance. His thoughts roared louder than his footsteps.
Two hundred thousand dollars. It felt like carrying dynamite in his pocket. He wondered if anyone could see it on his face, if the weight of his new balance glowed in his eyes. He had to force himself to act normal as he passed a group of students heading the other way.
Outside, the evening air was crisp, the city skyline visible beyond the academy walls. Ethan pulled out his phone and opened the rideshare app. His fingers hesitated before he typed the destination.
The mall district.
For years, he had avoided it, the glimmering heart of consumerism where only the wealthy shopped. His clothes had always been purchased secondhand, patched and repatched until fabric gave way. He had never even dared step inside the boutiques where his classmates casually dropped thousands on a whim.
But tonight, he would walk in with money in his account. Tonight, he had no choice but to cross that invisible line.
A car pulled up to the dorm gates, headlights washing across the pavement. Ethan slid into the back seat, his heart pounding. The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror but said nothing.
As the car pulled away, Ethan's gaze drifted to the city outside. St. Helens was a city of divides. The academy's pristine towers gave way to the glowing lights of skyscrapers, to glittering shops where mannequins dressed in designer suits stood in glass cages, silently mocking those who couldn't afford them. Farther still were the districts he knew well—crumbling apartments, neon-lit alleys where street vendors sold bowls of noodles for coins, places where survival was a daily struggle.
Ethan belonged to that side of the city. He always had. But tonight, for the first time, he was being pulled into the other.
He tightened his grip on his phone. The screen still showed the balance. Two hundred thousand. Enough to buy a dozen suits. Enough to play the role the system demanded.
And yet, beneath the thrill, fear gnawed at him. This wasn't a gift. This was bait. The system hadn't handed him wealth out of kindness. It had given him money because it needed him to use it.
Twilight Hotel. Downtown. A suit.
What was waiting for him there?
He didn't know. But the penalty hung heavy in his mind. Death. His family's debt increased. He couldn't afford hesitation.
The car rolled into the mall district, its streets alive with neon light. Boutiques gleamed with polished glass, their displays glowing like stages in a theater. Ethan's breath caught as he stepped out. For years he had walked these streets only in passing, always on the outside looking in. Now, for the first time, he would enter.
The driver pulled away, leaving him alone in the neon glow. Ethan looked down at his phone one last time, at the surreal number staring back at him. Then he squared his shoulders, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking toward the glittering rows of shops.
Tonight, he wasn't just Ethan Ivers, the scholarship student.
Tonight, he was someone else.