Morning sunlight spilled across my room again, this time brighter, stronger—like it was mocking my attempt to sleep in.
College.
The word alone felt heavy enough to make me sit up straight.
Lily had already gone to school by the time I made it downstairs. Mom was packing Dad's lunch, humming softly, and the smell of scrambled eggs filled the air.
"You're up early," Mom said without looking back. "Nervous?"
"Kind of," I admitted, reaching for a mug. "More curious than nervous, though."
"Well, curiosity is good," Dad said from the table, sipping coffee. "Just remember to be polite, responsible, and—"
"Don't waste money on nonsense," I finished for him.
He chuckled. "Exactly."
I smiled faintly, though inside, the irony wasn't lost on me.
If only they knew.
––––––
As I left the house, I checked my bank app again—because of course I did.
Balance: $2,430.17
That extra $180 from yesterday still sat there like a quiet miracle. Real money. No trick, no reversal overnight.
The Tenfold Rebate System hadn't lied.
The bus ride to campus took about twenty minutes. I spent most of it staring out the window, watching suburban houses blur into clusters of coffee shops and bookstores.
Everything looked the same—and yet, I felt different.
It wasn't about the money, not really. It was about what the money meant.
Power. Security. Opportunity.
Maybe even freedom.
––––––
The university campus was alive with noise.
Orientation banners hung from lampposts, student volunteers waved clipboards, and the air buzzed with chatter.
I walked through the courtyard, adjusting the strap of my backpack and trying not to look too lost.
Everywhere I turned, groups of new students were forming—some already laughing like old friends, others awkwardly exchanging names.
I checked my schedule: Orientation Hall, Room 102.
Simple enough.
On the way, I passed a bulletin board filled with club posters—everything from drama and debate to something called "Competitive Sleepers Association."
I smirked. "College, huh?"
Inside the orientation hall, the air was cool and smelled faintly of new carpet. Rows of chairs filled the space, and a few students were already seated.
I took an empty spot near the back, pulling out my notebook more out of habit than need.
A student volunteer on stage was setting up the projector. "Alright, everyone! Welcome to Westbridge University!"
The next thirty minutes went by in a blur of introductions, rules, and cheerful speeches. I clapped where appropriate, nodded politely, and tried not to yawn.
Still, I couldn't help but feel… calm.
Yesterday, I'd been panicking about tuition and part-time jobs. Today, I could sit here knowing that—somehow—the universe had decided to cut me a break.
––––––
After the orientation, we were herded toward the main courtyard for lunch. Food stalls lined the area—sandwiches, noodles, coffee trucks. The smell alone made my stomach growl.
I joined the line for a burger stand.
In front of me, a few students were chatting about dorms, professors, and which electives to avoid. Normal stuff.
Then it happened again.
That faint shimmer at the edge of my vision.
I froze, pulse quickening.
The blue holographic screen appeared quietly—visible only to me.
[System Notice: Daily Session Active]
[Friendly Reminder: Continuous engagement increases system compatibility.]
I frowned slightly. "Engagement?" I whispered under my breath.
[Definition: Interaction with eligible targets or consistent expenditure behavior.]
Right. Meaning spend more.
I sighed quietly, earning a confused glance from the guy behind me.
By the time I got my food and found a seat, the system screen had faded again.
It wasn't just about money anymore—it was tracking behavior.
That was new.
––––––
Lunch was good, though—simple, greasy, and oddly comforting.
As I ate, I couldn't help but overhear conversations around me.
"So apparently, there's a business club that helps students find investment partners."
"Did you see the price of dorm laundry machines? Total scam."
"Yeah, my dad said if I go broke by midterms, I'm walking home."
I smiled faintly.
Everyone had money on their mind. Everyone was chasing something—grades, connections, success.
The difference was, I now had a secret edge.
Still, part of me wondered what the system really wanted. Why "female targets"? Why "rebates"?
There had to be more to it.
––––––
The afternoon was filled with campus tours and icebreaker games.
At one point, we were split into small groups for a scavenger hunt around campus. I mostly kept quiet, answering when spoken to but letting others take the lead.
It wasn't that I was shy—I just had a lot on my mind.
Halfway through, I pulled out my phone and pretended to check the map, whispering softly: "System, are you still active?"
The familiar blue shimmer returned instantly.
[Affirmative.]
"Can I ask a question?"
[Of course.]
"Why me?"
A brief pause. Then the voice answered gently:
[Because you understand value, Alex Carter. You give without expecting, yet you think beyond sentiment.]
I frowned. "That sounds like a compliment wrapped in a warning."
[Interpretation: Not incorrect.]
I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath. "You've got a sense of humor."
[Only when appropriate.]
For a moment, I forgot I was even walking with a group of strangers. The voice's calm tone—polite, measured—felt oddly comforting, like talking to someone who already knew me.
But still, I needed answers.
"What happens if I stop spending?"
[Then the system will remain idle. Growth depends on engagement.]
"Growth…" I repeated quietly. "You mean there's more than just money, isn't there?"
The voice didn't answer immediately.
[That information is currently locked. Tier I permissions active.]
I sighed. "Figures."
––––––
As the tour ended, the sun dipped low in the sky, painting the campus in gold. Students began scattering—some to dorms, others to bus stops.
I found a bench near the library and sat down, feeling the first hints of exhaustion.
Orientation complete. No disasters. No awkward introductions. No surprise quizzes.
Just… a normal day.
Well, as normal as life could be when your wallet occasionally multiplied itself.
I pulled out my phone one last time, scrolling through the rebate history.
Fifteen dollars. Three dollars. Both multiplied tenfold.
It was consistent. Predictable.
And that meant it could be planned.
If this system really worked every time—if there were higher tiers waiting to be unlocked—then I needed to understand it better than anyone else ever could.
A soft breeze passed, carrying laughter and the smell of fresh-cut grass.
Somewhere in that quiet calm, I smiled faintly.
"Alright," I whispered. "Let's see what tomorrow brings."
The screen flickered softly, as if in response.
[Acknowledged.]
[System Standing By.]