The last echoes of the exam hall faded from Ethan's memory as the week ended. St. Helens Academy was quieter now, the manic rhythm of study and pressure replaced by the slow exhale of relief. For the students, the coming month was a pause before the leap to university. For Ethan, it was both reprieve and uncertainty.
He packed quietly in his dorm room. A few bags, no more than what his hands could carry. The walls were bare by the time he was done, the small shelf where his textbooks had once leaned now empty. His roommates were gone already, off to their own celebrations, their laughter echoing faintly down the hall.
Ethan slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, but his gaze lingered on the Mercedes key in his pocket. The car waited in the garage, gleaming, powerful. But not today.
Today he would walk.
He stepped out into the evening light, moving swiftly through the streets with the steady pace of someone who wanted no eyes upon him. If anyone saw him climbing into a luxury car, questions would follow. His mother would ask, his sister would wonder, and lies would pile up like bricks until the truth suffocated beneath them. No—for now, the car would remain his secret.
Meanwhile, at St. Helens Academy, the atmosphere inside the Vice Principal's office was anything but quiet.
Roland Halstrom leaned back in his leather chair, a glass of brandy sweating faintly in his hand. His face was sharp, hawkish, his graying hair slicked neatly back. Papers lay strewn across his desk: exam scores, grade sheets, class rankings.
Across from him sat a man in a tailored black suit, his expression cool, his tone sharper than the polished shoes he wore.
"You understand what is required, Vice Principal," the man said, adjusting his cufflinks with deliberate care. "Ethan Ivers cannot be allowed to stand at the top of your lists. Men like him… poor boys, with nothing but luck—they do not belong."
Roland sipped his brandy, his lips curling faintly. "You hardly need to tell me. I have no fondness for parasites. St. Helens is an institution of pedigree, of legacy. Not a charity."
The man's eyes gleamed. "Then you will adjust his scores. My associate's son will take his place. It is better this way."
Roland nodded once, already reaching for a red pen. It wasn't the first time scores had been altered. It wouldn't be the last. And for someone like Ethan—a boy from the gutter, whose very presence among the elite was an insult—no one would ever know.
No one but Ethan himself, when the letter arrived.
But Ethan knew none of this as he walked home with the sun setting over the city.
His family's apartment came into view, the cracked concrete steps, the rusted railing. Inside, the faint smell of old cooking oil clung to the air, familiar and grounding. His sister looked up from the couch, her eyes bright as she leapt into his arms. His mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a worn apron, her face lighting up at the sight of him.
"Ethan," she breathed, her voice thick with relief. "You're home."
He smiled, tired but warm. "I told you I'd make it."
Later, when the dishes were done and the night had grown quiet, Ethan slipped an envelope across the table. His mother frowned, hesitated, then opened it. Her breath caught. Stacks of bills, thick and heavy, gleamed in the light.
"Ethan—this is…" Her voice faltered, trembling. "This is two hundred thousand. Where did—"
"I've been working," Ethan cut in gently. "Driving. For a big family. This is a bonus. Nothing more."
Her eyes searched his face, suspicion and hope warring in them. But she said nothing more. Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she clutched the envelope to her chest.
The next day, Ethan took his sister shopping.
It was a joy unlike anything he had known, watching her run through racks of uniforms, trying on dresses with wide eyes, twirling in front of mirrors. She laughed more than she had in months, her face bright with the simple happiness of choice. Ethan paid without hesitation, his heart lighter with every purchase.
For once, he wasn't powerless.
That night, when the apartment grew quiet again, Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, the Mercedes key heavy in his hand. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, he would use it again.
Morning came sharp and clear. He dressed simply, in old clothes that still carried the faint scent of laundry soap, a bag slung over his shoulder. His suit stayed folded at home.
He descended into the parking garage, the Mercedes waiting like a predator crouched in the shadows. Its polished frame gleamed even under the dim light, and as Ethan slid into the seat, a thrill ran through him despite himself.
He exhaled slowly, then whispered:
"System."
The dashboard flickered to life, glowing across his vision.
--- [Money Deck System v1.0] ---
Name: Ethan Ivers
Balance: $270,000
System Points: 13
Cards Available: 2
Attributes:Strength: 3Agility: 2Endurance: 2Intelligence: 2Perception: 2
His balance had fallen. Two hundred thousand for his mother. Tens of thousands more for uniforms, clothes, food, small luxuries that were no longer impossible. The number was still staggering, more than he'd ever had in his life, but it had dipped all the same.
Ethan hesitated only a moment before focusing on the cards. "Draw."
The system responded at once.
[New Mission Generated!]
Mission Type: Clubs → Effort-based mission
Mission Rank: [3] – Three of Clubs
Objective: Check-in mission. Travel to the old restaurant downtown.
Base Rewards: $25,000 + 5 System Points
Bonus Effect: Rewards Doubled (from previous mission's bonus)
Final Rewards: $50,000 + 10 System Points
Ethan blinked at the glowing text, his brows furrowing. An old restaurant. A check-in mission. Simple.
But nothing about the system was ever truly simple.
His hand tightened on the steering wheel as he dismissed the screen. The engine roared to life, echoing through the garage.
Whatever awaited him at that restaurant, he would face it. Another step. Another test. Another climb.
And this time, the rewards were worth it.