The night gave Mark something no amount of money had ever bought Hugo: genuine rest. Despite everything spinning in his head, the teenage body shut down like a machine, fighting off stress with the resilience only seventeen-year-olds possessed. Somewhere in his dreams, he heard his father come home late.
"I'm back," Detective Lidorf's voice drifted through the walls. "Henry told me you're going back to school tomorrow."
Mark mumbled something incoherent from his half-sleep, then sank back into unconsciousness.
The next thing he knew, someone was pounding on his door like they were serving a warrant.
"Time to get up, Mark! You're going to be late!"
"I'm awake," Mark groaned. Who knocks like that? Oh right, a cop. No wonder.
He forced himself upright and immediately became aware of a very teenage problem. His body had apparently spent the night reminding him he was seventeen again. Jesus. Must be a virgin. This libido is going to be a problem.
After handling the most awkward shower of his life, he stared into Mark's closet. Cheap jeans, discount t-shirts, clothes that screamed clearance rack.
King of nerds is right. Who owns a wardrobe this tragic?
"You're taking forever in there!" Detective Lidorf's voice cut through his fashion crisis.
Mark grabbed the Conbert Uniform hanging in the back and threw it on. "Done, sir!"
In the kitchen, breakfast waited on the table while his father finished a phone call.
"Your ex is probably somewhere telling her new man how bad you were, and he's smiling like he won the lottery. Two clowns, one circus."
Mark nearly choked on his cereal. His father had game.
"Okay, Terry, I'll call you back." Detective Lidorf hung up and turned to Mark. "Uncle Terry sends his greetings."
They drove through the small town in comfortable silence. Hugo recognized some of the streets. He'd built one of his private estates here for discreet meetings, back when he needed places that didn't exist on any official records. Funny how life came full circle.
"You need to start standing up for yourself, Mark." His father's voice was gentle but firm as they approached the school. The kind of advice he'd probably given a hundred times before, hoping this time it would stick.
Mark just nodded, not trusting himself to respond appropriately. What could he say? That standing up for himself had been his specialty for years?
The school was twenty-five minutes from home, a modest brick building that looked like every small-town high school in first world countries. Mark grabbed his bag and climbed out of the car.
"Mark." Detective Lidorf's voice stopped him. "If anything happens, you tell Henry first. He'll let me know."
This kid can't even talk to his own father directly. Something needed to change about that.
"Okay, Dad."
The word hit Detective Lidorf like a physical blow. His face lit up with a mixture of surprise and something that looked dangerously close to hope, like he hadn't heard that word in years. Maybe he hadn't.
At the school gate, the security guard didn't even glance up from his newspaper. Mark stepped onto campus and immediately felt hands cover his eyes from behind.
"You nerd, don't tell me you're actually back."
The voice was familiar. "Henry?"
Henry released him, grinning. "Almost got you! Welcome back to social purgatory. Good news is, you're invisible to most students here except the Spencer brothers."
The Spencer brothers. Must be the identical motorcycle kids from yesterday. Of course they'd be waiting. Predators always knew when prey returned to the hunting grounds.
"Speaking of which," Henry continued, scanning the courtyard, "they'd be very surprised seeing that you're back."
Mark adjusted his glasses, feeling the weight of every stare from passing students. Some curious, some dismissive, most just looking right through him like he didn't exist. Like he was a ghost haunting his own life.
"So what's the plan, man?" Henry asked. "You going to actually stick it out this time, or are you going to bail by lunch?"
Mark looked around the campus, taking in the social ecosystem he'd have to navigate. Rich kids clustered by expensive cars their parents bought them. Athletes dominated the main walkway like they owned it. Theater kids huddled near the arts building. And somewhere in this maze of teenage hierarchies, he needed to find a path to power.
"I'm sticking it out," Mark said, surprising himself with how determined he sounded. "Time to change some things around here."
Henry stared at his best friend like he'd grown a second head. "Change things? Mark, yesterday you wanted to drop out. Like, literally yesterday. Today you're talking like you're going to run for student council or something."
If only you knew, Mark thought. Yesterday I owned more wealth than most countries' GDP.
But maybe that was exactly what he needed. At the lowest point, the only direction was up. No shortcuts this time. No inherited empire. Just the game, his experience, and a teenage body that had nothing left to lose.
"Come on," Mark said, following Henry toward the main building. "Let's go get educated."
They slipped into the classroom, heading for two empty seats in the back row. Students were glued to their phones or lost in conversations, completely ignoring the new arrivals. Classic high school invisibility. In a way, it was freeing. Nobody expected anything from Mark Lidorf except continued failure.
This wasn't Mark's first time living this kind of life. Deep down, Hugo remembered his own teenage years before his dying father had passed him the game. His life hadn't been much different from Mark Lidorf's, except he'd been smart enough to make friends with rich kids. Kids like Ben Sentara.
The game had been in his family for generations, passed down from father to son like some worthless heirloom. But apparently none of his ancestors had bothered to actually play it.
They'd probably thought it was junk, some old toy not worth their time. His father had given it to him on his deathbed as a joke, a "consolation prize" for inheriting nothing else. If only they'd known what they'd thrown away.
"Hey, watch it!"
Mark snapped out of his thoughts as he bumped into someone's chair. He looked up to find the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen staring at him with mild irritation. The same girl from Henry's wallpaper. Dark curls, bright eyes, a face that could stop traffic. His seventeen-year-old body responded immediately, flooding him with hormones that left him speechless and awkward.
Great. Even my hormones are working against me.
"My bad," Henry said quickly, grabbing Mark's arm and pulling him away. "He's still half asleep."
As they dropped into their back-row seats, Henry whispered urgently, "Bro, what's wrong with you? You just bumped into Sherry Braithwaite. And you didn't even apologize."
"Sorry, I..."
"Whatever. Just try to act normal, okay?"
The classroom buzzed with about fifty students when Mark felt the game vibrate in his backpack. He pulled it out carefully, angling it away from Henry's view.
[CONGRATULATIONS: You are now on the path to greatness]
[TASK ONE: Fight Daniel Sterling][REWARD: End Mode Activation + System Card]
You've got to be kidding me. For years, the game had given him sophisticated challenges. Acquire companies worth billions. Manipulate international markets. Destroy competitors through legal warfare. Now it wanted him to get into a high school fistfight?
But the game was never wrong. Every seemingly random command had led to bigger opportunities, doors opening in ways he couldn't have predicted. He'd learned to trust it even when it made no sense.
He just hoped Daniel Sterling was on the smaller side.
"Put that thing away, man," Henry hissed. "You want everyone thinking we're total losers? Oh wait, they already do. Never mind."
The teacher walked in with a student trailing behind him. He clapped twice sharply, the sound cutting through the noise like a gunshot.
"Alright, that's enough. Settle down."
The chaos died to a murmur. Fifty pairs of eyes turned toward the front of the room.
"Before we start, we have a new student joining us today." The teacher gestured to the boy beside him. "Class, meet Alex Sentara."
Mark's blood turned to ice water. That's my godson.
Alex Sentara. Ben Sentara's grandson. The golden child of one of the most powerful families in the world, the kind of family that didn't appear in Forbes lists because they were smart enough to stay invisible. Old money.
What the hell is he doing in a mediocre public school for his senior year?