The girl behind the counter was half-watching the TV above, where Hugo's death was still playing on repeat. She shook her head and muttered under her breath, "Not surprised. That Hugo creep finally got what was coming to him."
Mark's blood went cold, but he forced his voice to stay steady. Her reaction didn't surprise him, he'd always been aware of the vast gap between people at his level and everyone else.
It was one of the reasons he'd taken those evening walks through town, trying to understand the world beyond his gates.
Now he was trapped on the other side of that gap.
"Thank you, uh..." he said, using the old Hugo trick when he'd forgotten the names of world leaders. Worked every time.
"Bethany." The girl filled in the blank, then squinted at the yellow device in his hand. "Wait, is that a brick game? Mark, don't tell me you're still carrying that thing around."
Too close for comfort. This Bethany clearly knew him well, and Mark needed out before she started asking questions he couldn't answer.
He edged toward the door. "Yeah, something like that."
Bethany's frown deepened. "Don't ghost me again, Mark. You still owe me for covering your ass with Mrs. Chen."
Mark bolted from the shop before she could elaborate. The game hadn't given him a new objective yet, and honestly? Part of him wasn't sure he wanted one. He'd spent decades wishing he could trade his empire for health and peace of mind. Now he had both, along with a young body and the mysterious device that had built his fortune the first time.
The problem was, he knew absolutely nothing about being Mark Lidorf. He needed intel: family, friends, enemies, home address. The basics of surviving as a seventeen-year-old in this nowhere town.
"Well, well. Look what crawled out of the woodwork."
Mark spun around. Three kids on motorcycles had pulled up behind him, dressed in that deliberately sloppy way teenagers thought looked intimidating.
"Mark freaking Lidorf," the leader sneered as they dismounted. "Check out this clown in his fancy suit."
The other two snickered like he'd delivered comedy gold. Mark's new body wanted to bolt, but Hugo's instincts kept him planted. These were textbook bullies, probably classmates, and their reaction told him everything about Mark Lidorf's place in the social pecking order.
Before things could get ugly, a police cruiser pulled up. The three boys immediately hopped back on their bikes and peeled out, leaving Mark standing alone in his oversized suit.
The driver's window rolled down, revealing a face that made Hugo's blood turn to ice water. Detective Michael Lidorf. The man who'd spent five years trying to expose Hugo Pabebuncano's operations.
The same detective Hugo had systematically crushed at every turn, blocking promotions, burying cases, destroying his career piece by piece. And apparently, Mark's father.
Oh hell. This is my dad now.
"Been looking for you," Detective Lidorf said, gesturing toward the passenger seat. "Henry called, said you seemed off."
Henry. Must be the friend. Mark climbed in, his mind spinning. "I'm fine."
"Good to hear. So you changed your mind about Conbert?"
Conbert High School, presumably. Mark nodded carefully. "Yes, Sir."
His father didn't even blink at the formal address. Whatever relationship they'd had was clearly ice-cold.
Detective Lidorf drove them through a working-class neighborhood that Hugo would have gentrified into oblivion. The house they pulled up to was small, tired, the kind of place where dreams went to die. As they walked to the front door, his father eyed the expensive suit.
"Seriously, where'd you get that outfit? Mug a stockbroker?"
The TV was blaring when they stepped inside. Detective Lidorf headed for the kitchen while Mark sank onto a worn couch that had seen better decades. Then the breaking news banner flashed across the screen:
BREAKING: Deceased Billionaire Hugo Pabebuncano Leaves Entire Fortune to Adopted Son Jimmy Pabebuncano, 19.
Mark's vision went white-hot. Jimmy. That worthless parasite who'd never earned a dime in his spoiled life. Hugo had cut him from the will a year ago after catching him trying to sell trade secrets.
Wait. That's not my will.
The pieces clicked into place. This wasn't some cosmic reward for leveling up. Someone had murdered Hugo Pabebuncano and doctored his will.
Ben? Ben Sentara's face flashed through his mind. His best friend. The only person who knew about Ashley. The only person with access to Hugo's private documents, his schedules, his bedroom security codes. They'd built empires together over thirty years. Shared secrets that could topple governments. Ben had been at his side through every major deal, every hostile takeover, every brutal negotiation.
And now Ben would know he was dead. Would probably be planning the funeral, giving interviews about what a "visionary" Hugo had been. All while sitting on whatever fortune he'd negotiated for himself in exchange for Hugo's life.
The betrayal tasted like copper in his mouth.
But how had his consciousness ended up in this kid's body? Was this really the game's doing, or just the universe's twisted sense of humor?
From the kitchen, Detective Lidorf's voice drifted out, flat and bitter: "Good riddance. Pabebuncano was a cancer on this city. All that money, all that power, and he still found ways to squeeze the life out of regular people. World's better off without bastards like him."
Mark's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He couldn't react, couldn't defend himself. Not here. Not to this man who'd spent years trying to destroy him.
The game device buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with trembling hands:
[NEW QUEST UNLOCKED][PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Build the greatest financial empire in human history]
[STEP ONE: Enroll at Conbert High School]
Mark stared at the screen, then back at the TV where Jimmy's smug face was playing the grieving son for the cameras.
Perfect. Now he had real motivation. If he was going to expose whoever killed him and reclaim what was stolen, he'd need serious money. Because whoever orchestrated Hugo's murder was playing at a level that required resources, connections and power.
And Jimmy Pabebuncano had just inherited enough of all three to buy small countries.
Time to start the game over. This time, with a score to settle.