The late evening sky over Sue City was painted in bruised shades of purple and gray, the kind of sky that whispered secrets and carried regrets on its fading light. Street lamps flickered on one by one, stretching golden halos over cracked sidewalks where the poor walked with bowed heads, and the wealthy roared past in sleek machines that growled and purred.
Inside a dimly lit single–room apartment on the city's worn–down west side, Jackim Ochieng sat at the edge of his squeaky wooden bed. His tall, lean frame seemed almost too big for the tiny space. At twenty-two, Jackim carried the presence of a man shaped by hardship: dark-skinned, sharp–jawed, with eyes deep and restless, the kind of eyes that had seen betrayal, humiliation, and long nights of hunger. His hair was cut short and neat, but his black T-shirt was faded at the collar, and the jeans hugging his long legs were patched at the knees.
The buzzing of his secondhand phone snapped him out of his thoughts. The cracked screen lit up with a notification.
"Victoria Texas High School Alumni Reunion – Invitation."
Jackim froze. His pulse stumbled, as if someone had just dragged a claw across old scars.
The words alone sent a flood of memories rushing back: the sweaty classrooms with broken fans, the laughter echoing in hallways, the mockery he endured from the rich boys who flashed iPhones and Air Jordans while he polished the same pair of worn leather shoes for three years. And her—Sandra.
Sandra Williams.
The name slashed through him like glass. He saw her again as if it were yesterday: long brown braids flowing over a designer handbag, lips glossed, laughter bubbling when she said, "Jackim, you can't even buy me a milkshake, and you think you can give me a future? Bryan has a car, Jackim. You… you have nothing."
She had left him for Bryan—the arrogant son of a real estate tycoon. Jackim still remembered that slap in the face, the way her perfume lingered as she walked out of his life, arm hooked into another man's.
His thumb trembled on the screen.
Before he could press delete, another notification appeared. A WhatsApp message, from the one person who had never left his side.
Kelvin: Bro! You saw the invite? Don't you dare skip this. Let's go together. Time to face them.
Jackim exhaled. Kelvin Otieno—his only real friend from high school. Where Jackim had grown taller and leaner, Kelvin had gone shorter and rounder, with a stomach that announced his love for beer and nyama choma. But Kelvin had a heart bigger than any mansion in Sue City. Loyal, fiery, never caring if his friend had a dime or not.
Still, Jackim's chest tightened. He imagined walking into the reunion hall in his faded shirt while Sandra arrived glittering in a gown, Bryan flashing car keys that cost more than Jackim had seen in his entire life. He imagined the laughter, the whispers.
"No," he muttered aloud, tossing the phone on the bed. "I'm not going."
But the thought clung to him. The past was a wound that hadn't healed. And the reunion? It was a chance to reopen it, or maybe—just maybe—to prove something.
Kelvin called. Jackim let it ring, but the second time, he picked up.
"Bro!" Kelvin's voice exploded with energy. "You're quiet, eh? Don't tell me you're chickening out."
"I'm not going," Jackim said flatly.
Silence on the other side for a beat. Then Kelvin laughed. "You're scared. Admit it. You don't want Sandra to see you're still broke."
Jackim swallowed. The words stung because they were true.
"Listen," Kelvin continued, his tone softening. "We suffered enough in that school, Jackim. They laughed, they mocked, they treated us like trash. But we've survived, eh? That's worth showing. You don't need to be rich to hold your head high."
Jackim leaned back on the wall, staring at the peeling paint, his friend's words soaking in. Kelvin meant well, but reality was cruel. Pride didn't pay bills. Pride didn't silence laughter.
When the call ended, Jackim remained alone in the room. Outside, the city roared—buses belching smoke, street vendors yelling prices, club music vibrating through distant walls. His world felt too small, too suffocating.
He stepped to the window. Across the street, neon lights from a nightclub bled into the night. Women in tight dresses laughed as wealthy men in crisp shirts ushered them into black SUVs. Jackim's chest tightened. All his life, he had been a shadow among lights, a nobody among names.
He clenched his fists. "If only I had one chance," he whispered. "Just one…"
And then—
It came.
A voice. Clear. Mechanical. Cold yet strangely intimate.
[System Initialization…]
Jackim jerked, eyes wide. "What the—"
The room dimmed, as if the bulb above him had lost half its strength. His phone screen flickered though he hadn't touched it. And then the voice again, deep inside his mind:
[Host detected: Jackim Ochieng.]
[Activating Bragging System…]
He stumbled back onto the bed, his breath shallow. "I'm losing my mind," he muttered.
But the voice pressed on.
[Congratulations, Host. You have been chosen. Rule is simple: Every brag you make becomes reality. Every boast you utter earns you rewards.]
Jackim's jaw slackened. "Brag? Reality? What kind of madness—"
[System Task: First Brag.]
[Requirement: Boast that you own at least $1,000 in cash.]
[Reward: $1,000 Cash + System Activation.]
His laugh cracked out, harsh and bitter. "This is insane. I can't even pay rent. And now voices in my head are telling me to brag?"
But the voice was relentless.
[Task Countdown: 10 minutes.]
Sweat dotted his forehead. This was either madness… or something else.
Jackim stood, pacing the tiny room. He glanced at his battered wallet on the table—empty, save for a torn bus ticket. His heart pounded. What if—just what if—
He swallowed hard, clenched his jaw, and whispered into the room:
"I… I've got a thousand dollars in my wallet."
The silence that followed felt eternal. His chest heaved. Nothing happened.
Then—
Thud.
The wallet bulged. Jackim snatched it up with trembling hands. His fingers opened it, and his knees nearly gave out.
Crisp $100 bills. Ten of them.
Real. Solid. The smell of money hit his nostrils, sharp and intoxicating.
His heart thundered. "This… this can't be real…"
He touched each note, his mind spinning. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating.
The voice returned, calm, metallic:
[Task Complete. Reward Delivered.]
[System Fully Activated. Future tasks will yield greater rewards. Remember: The bigger the brag, the greater the gain.]
Jackim staggered back onto the bed, clutching the money like it was a lifeline. His lips trembled with something between fear and laughter.
His whole life, he had been mocked, humiliated, spat on for being poor. And now—just by boasting—he could rewrite everything.
The room no longer seemed small. The night no longer seemed heavy.
Jackim's eyes burned with a new light.
The reunion. Sandra. Bryan. All of them.
If the System was real, if bragging was power… then the days of humiliation were over.
Forever.