Kael Frost gripped the taxi's edge tightly as the city lights blurred past. The fare, $10, left a small ache in his chest, but he didn't care. Every meter brought him closer to the challenge the system had thrown at him: the "Morning Brew" cafe, a broken shop near the university district that had been closed for three years.
As the taxi pulled up, Kael's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The cafe looked worse than he had imagined. The paint had peeled away like old scabs, the windows were dusty and cracked, and the sign—barely hanging on—creaked in the evening wind. Even from the sidewalk, he could see the floorboards sagging and the faded chairs stacked haphazardly inside.
"$5,000 to fix this?" Kael muttered to himself, clutching the system's floating screen like it might vanish if he blinked. He knew instantly that the funds would barely scratch the surface. Hesitating, he glanced at his wallet. He still had $1,500, though a part of that was for rent, groceries, and daily expenses. After a long pause, he made a decision. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly.
Three days passed in a blur. Kael moved like a whirlwind, researching cafes, décor, and layouts. He wandered through second-hand furniture shops, bargain outlets, and tiny warehouse markets. Each trip burned a hole in his limited funds, but he was relentless. $5,000 from the system, $1,500 from his pocket—every penny was meticulously allocated. He even bartered with shopkeepers, earning amused and occasionally confused glances.
Nearby shopkeepers watched the small, scruffy boy hauling paint cans, sanding broken chairs, and testing coffee machines as if he were auditioning for a circus. One old man chuckled, "Kid, you really think you can open this dump?" Kael glanced over, face red but determined. "Watch me."
Despite the modest funds, the cafe slowly took shape. The walls were scrubbed, painted in a cheerful cream color that reflected the afternoon sun. Worn-out tables were repaired, chairs repainted, and the counter scrubbed until it gleamed faintly. It wasn't luxurious, and the decorations were simple—a hand-painted sign here, a small potted plant there—but it had character. More importantly, Kael poured every ounce of effort, creativity, and hope into it.
By the end of the week, the "Morning Brew" sign finally hung straight. The windows were clean, the floor swept, and the small coffee machines—though old—were polished and ready. Kael stepped back, wiped sweat from his forehead, and surveyed his work. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't lavish. But it was alive again.
Nearby shopkeepers and students from the university began to peek in, some whispering. "Isn't that the abandoned cafe?" one student murmured. Another shop owner shook his head, partly in disbelief, partly amused. "Looks like the kid actually did it." Kael smirked at the irony; the world had doubted him, yet here he stood, a boy who had nothing, bringing life to a broken dream.
As he leaned against the counter, exhausted but proud, a new chime echoed in his apartment—or rather, in his mind. The system window appeared, glowing faintly but clearly readable.
[Reward Notification]
[Congratulations, Kael Frost.]
[Your renovation of "Morning Brew" is complete.]
[Reward: $10,000 credited to your account.]
[Note: Reward is randomized and granted due to patience and hard work.]
Kael blinked. Ten thousand dollars? He rubbed his eyes. "Wait… what? That's—"
[System Reply]
[Yes. This is a random reward triggered by dedication, effort, and perseverance. Use it wisely.]
Kael let out a laugh—part disbelief, part relief. "I… I can't believe this." For the first time in years, he felt a spark of hope he hadn't felt since his parents' death.
Without wasting time, Kael began recruiting staff. He found two energetic girls and one diligent boy to help run the cafe. The system had given him a salary guideline—$2,000 per month—but Kael knew he couldn't afford to underpay anyone if he wanted loyalty. After short interviews, jokes, and a bit of playful persuasion, he hired them.
Mia, the first girl, had a talent for latte art and a bubbly personality that could charm even the grumpiest student. Lila, the second, was organized and meticulous, perfect for managing inventory and daily orders. And Leo, the boy, had an uncanny ability to fix anything mechanical—ideal for the aging coffee machines and leaky faucets. Together, they made a small but promising team.
On the last day of his initial setup, the system pinged once again, this time more mysterious:
[System Notification]
[Attention, Kael Frost.]
[In the next 15 days, your performance will be evaluated.]
[A score out of 100 points will be assigned based on efficiency, growth, and customer satisfaction.]
[Rewards will be distributed according to the points received.]
Kael stared at the glowing text, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The past week had been grueling, exhausting, and financially draining—but it had also been exhilarating. He now had a functioning cafe, a small team, and a sense that he could finally carve out a future for himself.
Yet, as he wiped down the counter one last time that evening, a thought nagged at him: the system's rewards were unpredictable. Random. Was his next challenge going to be even harder? He glanced at the freshly painted walls, the polished chairs, and the small aroma of freshly ground coffee filling the room.
Nearby, a student poked her head inside. "Hey, is this place… really open?" she asked, peering curiously at the makeshift counter and imperfect decorations.
And for the first time in a long while, Kael Frost felt the weight of the world lift slightly off his shoulders.
It wasn't much yet, but it was a start.