The University of Business campus was a chaotic sea of denim jackets, overpriced coffees, and desperation.
To anyone else, it looked like a normal Monday morning in 2019. Students rushed to lectures, panicking about assignments that wouldn't matter in five years.
But to Adrian Cole, it looked like a spreadsheet.
As he stepped out of the dorm building, the sunlight hit his face. He didn't squint. He adjusted his collar—even if it was just a wrinkled polo shirt—with the muscle memory of a man used to wearing $5,000 Italian suits.
[SYSTEM ACTIVE: REALITY OVERLAY ON]
The world glitched.
Suddenly, floating translucent boxes popped up over everyone's heads. It wasn't just data; it was a market analysis of human beings.
Adrian stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. A group of sorority girls walked past him, giggling.
[Target Analysis]Name: Jessica Miller Beauty: 7.2/10 Net Worth: -$45,000 (Student Loans) Family Influence: Low (Father is a Dentist) Trait: "Instagram Addict" (Requires 24/7 attention) Business Synergy: None.
Adrian scoffed. Liability.
He looked at the next one.
[Target Analysis]Name: Emily Chen Beauty: 6.5/10 Net Worth: $2,000 Trait: "Study Demon" Business Synergy: Low.
"Trash. Trash. Liability. Bad investment."
Adrian muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the crowd with the cold precision of a venture capitalist reviewing pitch decks. In his past life, he had dated women for their looks. It was fun, sure. But it was empty.
This System wasn't asking him to find a girlfriend. It was asking him to find a partner.
"Bro, why are you staring at people like a serial killer?"
Tubby Tom panted beside him, struggling to keep up. He pulled his grey hoodie tighter over his head, trying to make himself invisible. "And why are we walking toward the Business School? We have 'Intro to Philosophy' in the Arts block."
Adrian didn't break stride. He kept his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but dominant—a shark swimming through a school of minnows.
"Philosophy doesn't pay for penthouses, Tom. We're going where the money is."
[DING!]
[TUTORIAL TIP]Not all romance is created equal.
Tier 1 (Civilian): No business benefit. Just drama. Tier 2 (Elite): Unlocks specific skills (Negotiation, Tech, Media). Tier 3 (Pillar): Determines the future of your Empire.
Current Objective: Find a Tier 3 Target.
Adrian smirked. The "Know-It-All" Smirk.
"So, it's a treasure hunt," he whispered.
He tested the System's limits. He focused on a girl sitting on a bench reading a fashion magazine. She was stunning—easily an 8/10.
He walked up to her. Not to talk, just to get closer range data.
She looked up. Her eyes swept over Adrian's messy hair, his cheap shoes, and his hungover roommate.
Her expression shifted instantly. Disgust.
[Social Status Check]Your Reputation: "The Campus Joke" Target Interest: 0% Probability of Success: -100%
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice dripping with ice. "Or are you just blocking the sun?"
Tom squeaked in fear. "Sorry! We're leaving!"
Adrian didn't flinch. He just laughed—a dry, amused sound. In 2030, this girl would have waited three hours just to pour his drink. But here? He was a nobody.
Good, he thought. I love a hostile takeover.
"Just admiring the view," Adrian said, winking. He turned and walked away before she could respond, leaving her confused.
"Dude!" Tom hissed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "That was Courtney! She dates the football captain! Do you have a death wish?"
"Courtney is a depreciating asset, Tom. High maintenance, low return."
They reached the central plaza of the Business School. This was different. The students here walked faster. The suits were slightly better fitting. The ambition in the air tasted like ozone and anxiety.
And then, he saw it.
It wasn't a blue box. It was a Golden Pillar of Light.
It shot up from the crowd near the fountain, piercing the sky. It was blinding, majestic, and completely invisible to everyone else.
[WARNING: S-CLASS TARGET DETECTED][The First Pillar of the Empire]
Adrian stopped. The air around him seemed to freeze. The noise of the campus faded into a dull hum.
Walking through the crowd, flanked by two assistants who looked terrified of her, was a woman who didn't walk—she marched.
Sarah Vance.
She held a tablet like a weapon. Her silver-grey business suit was sharp enough to cut glass. Her heels clicked against the pavement with a rhythmic, military precision. Click-clack. Click-clack.
She looked over her rimless glasses, judging the world and finding it wanting. The "Death Stare."
[Target Analysis: LOCKED]Name: Sarah Vance Beauty: 9.5/10 (Ice Queen Variant) Net Worth: [Trust Fund Hidden] Family Influence: HIGH (Vance Real Estate Conglomerate) Special Trait: "Iron Heart" (Immune to basic flirting) Potential Reward: The Foundation of a Dynasty.
Adrian felt a shiver. Not fear. Excitement.
This wasn't just a pretty girl. This was a challenge. This was the puzzle he had died without solving.
"Tom," Adrian said softly, the golden ring in his pupils flaring for a micro-second.
"Yeah?" Tom was busy trying to open a bag of chips without making noise.
"See that girl?"
Tom looked. He choked on a chip. "Sarah Vance? The Dean's daughter? The one who made a senior cry last week? Adrian, no. She's out of your league. She's out of everyone's league. She's a different species."
Adrian fixed his collar again. He checked his reflection in a parked car's window. He looked like a broke student, but he felt like a king returning to claim his throne.
"Leagues are for games, Tom," Adrian said, stepping off the curb and moving directly into her path. "And I'm done playing games."
He didn't run. He didn't rush. He timed his pace perfectly to intersect with her.
[SYSTEM ALERT][Mission Start: The First Contact][Time Remaining: 6 Days, 23 Hours]
The countdown had begun.
Adrian didn't care about the penalty. He didn't care about the money. Looking at Sarah Vance, he realized something else.
Breaking that ice was going to be the most fun he'd had in two lifetimes.