Dex took shelter near a coffee shop.
He stood beneath the awning of a closed café, rainwater dripping steadily from the edge of the roof onto the pavement in front of him. People passed by, absorbed in their own lives, unaware of the translucent interface hovering just beyond his line of sight.
The countdown flickered once.
Then disappeared.
A new notification slid into place.
[Daily Reward Activated]
Dex inhaled slowly.
"…Alright," he muttered. "Let's see it."
The system didn't rush him.
[Daily Reward Granted]
→ Liquid Assets: $250,000
→ Executive Identity Package: Activated
→ Residence Access: Pending Confirmation
Dex stared at the words.
He gazed at it, almost bamboozled by it.
Once.
Twice.
He blinked.
Two hundred and fifty fucking dollars.
There was no loud notification, no popping of champagne, just a single quiet notification, followed by…
A vibration on his phone.
Dex pulled his phone out.
A fund of $250,000 has been transferred by Global Exportive Funds.
Of course, no way in hell the bank wouldn't announce who transferred it, but how would that hedge fund knew his account, he had no idea.
He didn't smile.
Instead, he leaned back against the cold metal shutter behind him and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The tightness in his chest eased, replaced by something unfamiliar.
Space.
His money problem wasn't exactly gone, but the most immediate concern was gone. Food. Shelter. Time. All was solved with a single line of text from a mysterious benefactor.
"So," he said quietly, "Does this happen every single day?"
The system responded with a quiet notification.
[Daily Reward frequency: 24 hours]
[Reward value will scale based on host current level and total assets]
That got his attention.
"Figures," he said. "Well, let's see where you will take me to."
Another line appeared.
His phone buzzed again.
Notifications stacked rapidly—emails, confirmations, access approvals. A digital paper trail assembled itself in real time, unfamiliar applications appearing on his screen as if they had always been there.
Dex scrolled through them slowly.
A new bank account under his name.
D.S. Maddox Bank.
Priority status attached.
Available balance: $50,000.00
He pushed himself off the metal shutter and stepped back into the flow of the street. This time, when people brushed past him, he didn't feel out of place.
Dex checked the system once more.
[Next Daily Reward available in 23:59:12]
Dex slipped his phone into his pocket and started walking, already thinking through his next move.
Carefully.
He wasn't the type to rush out and buy a new suit.
And he definitely wasn't the type to blow money on a fucking Bugatti or Ferrari.
Money was still money.
It could disappear in an instant if he let it.
After all, this was just the first reward.
And Dex had no intention of wasting it.
The first reward was still pending; there was this residency permit, or was it what?
→ Residence Access: Activated
His phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
Local, but not a mobile one, just consisted of four numbers.
"Good evening. Am I speaking with Mr. Dexter—" the caller paused briefly, "—Mr. Dexter Harlan?"
"This is Marina Cole from Newport Tower Residential Services. I'm calling regarding the unit purchase registered under your name. May I confirm you're available to receive some details?"
Dex stopped walking.
"Unit purchase?" he repeated. "I didn't—"
"I understand," Marina said smoothly, unbothered. "The transaction was completed earlier today by a third party. The buyer is listed as John. All funds have already been transferred in full."
Dex frowned. "John who?"
There was a brief pause on the line.
"John Doe," she replied. "I'm afraid no further personal details were provided. What I can confirm is that the apartment—Newport Tower, Floor Fifteen, Unit B—is now legally registered under your name. Ownership documents have been finalized. There are no outstanding conditions."
His grip tightened around the phone.
"You're saying… It's mine?"
"Yes, sir," Marina said. "You only need to come by to verify your identity and receive the access credentials. Our concierge is available twenty-four hours."
Dex glanced up at the skyline. One tower stood out—glass and steel, clean lines cutting through the rain.
"…Alright," he said after a moment. "I'll be there."
"Excellent. We'll be expecting you, Mr. Harlan."
The call ended.
Dex lowered the phone slowly.
John Doe.
A name as common as air.
Then again, money didn't need a real name to work.
John Doe or not, the result was the same.
Dex wasn't sleeping on the street tonight.
He pulled out his phone and ordered an Uber from in front of the café. It didn't take long. A black sedan rolled to the curb—nothing flashy. A Camry. The kind of car people drove every day without thinking about it.
Dex slid into the back seat. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"You're not what I expected, sir," the man said.
Dex met his eyes briefly. "Appearances can be… misleading. Newport Tower, please."
There was a pause, then a nod. "Right away, sir."
The car eased into traffic. Dex leaned back, letting the seat support him. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until now. After months of sleeping on floors—sometimes in his own house, sometimes not at all—even this felt indulgent.
His thoughts drifted as the city passed by.
Newport.
A district hugging the southeastern edge of Midnight Valley, close to the water. Yacht berths, clean streets, quieter nights. Not the most expensive residential area, but far from cheap. Close enough to wealth to feel it. Far enough from the business core to avoid the noise.
An apartment there would cost north of $500,000.
It wasn't a cheap area by any means.
Dex watched the morning light blur past the window.