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[System Updating…]
[Host Ability Fusion Complete]
[Raphael Lee (Li Rui) Attributes Updated]
[Constitution: 1.9 → 2.0]
[Spirit: 2.5 → 2.8]
Skill list refreshed.
Force abilities (Star Wars world)…
Vampire lineage (Underworld world)…
Wuxia category (Hero world – newly added)…
Martial arts…
Languages…
Lifestyle skills…
[Current Debt Overview]
Purchased Items (Star Wars world)…
Dominic Toretto skill set: $1,000,000 (paid)
…
Broken Sword's Handwritten "Sword" Scroll: $1,500,000
[Repaid]
$1,000,000 (Fast & Furious debt installment)
[Remaining Debt]
$167,000,000
[Next Deadline]
Before Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones release (August 16, 2002) – 97% of remaining balance ($162,000,000) must be cleared, or one purchased ability will be randomly stripped.
[System Note]
Congratulations on acquiring [Broken Sword's Handwritten "Sword" Scroll]. Hang it in your residence and meditate daily in front of it to gradually increase sword-comprehension speed. When paired with [Sword of Intent], it creates a positive feedback loop between mental energy consumption and sword-will condensation.
Force and Sword Intent are now slowly fusing within you. This cross-world power synthesis may eventually birth entirely new abilities unique to the host.
Raphael exhaled slowly and waved the panel away.
The attribute increases weren't instant; they settled in over days. He'd felt the same pattern after every previous dream world. Three to ten days max and the new baseline would lock in.
He reached out and the Broken Sword scroll materialized on the nightstand—ancient ink on yellowed paper, the single character "劍" (Sword) written in bold, sweeping strokes. He slid it into the drawer for now.
Jessica's Malibu villa wasn't huge; no dedicated meditation room. Once the Star Wars press tour ended, he'd buy something bigger. In Los Angeles, money bought whatever square footage you wanted.
---
August 5, JFK Airport, New York.
The second Raphael stepped out of the gate, a twenty-something girl in a Star Wars T-shirt spotted him and waved a sign that read "Raphael Lee."
"Raphael! Over here!"
He took the water bottle she offered.
"Anyone else landed yet?"
"Ewan arrived yesterday. Natalie's due this afternoon. Mr. Lucas flies in tomorrow. Full cast will be here before the premiere."
Raphael nodded and followed her to the car.
Manhattan traffic blurred past the windows. The girl handed him a thick itinerary folder from the front seat.
"Here's the schedule for the next week, sir."
He flipped it open.
Holy shit.
August 6: Good Morning America live, Today show taping, Entertainment Weekly cover shoot, FOX News interview at night.
August 7: New York Times exclusive, fan meet-and-greet, ABC radio, crew dinner.
August 8: All-day outdoor event at Rockefeller Center—five thousand fans expected.
August 9: Fly to Chicago, The Oprah Winfrey Show taping (highest-rated program in America).
August 10: Chicago fan event, fly back to New York.
August 11: Premiere rehearsal, final media scrum.
August 12: World premiere.
Raphael closed the folder and leaned back.
This wasn't a press tour. It was a triathlon.
The girl glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "Too packed?"
He shook his head. "I'm used to it."
If he complained, the rest of the cast would probably drop dead.
The car pulled up to a boutique hotel two blocks from Rockefeller Center. Top-floor suite, right next to Ewan's.
Raphael took the keycard, showered, and lay down for a quick nap. Natalie was landing this afternoon.
At three o'clock a knock woke him.
Ewan McGregor stood outside, grinning like an idiot.
"Raphael! Come on, food time!"
Raphael rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Three. You were seriously still sleeping? New York weather this nice and you're napping?"
"I was on a six-hour flight, man."
"Still gotta eat." Ewan dragged him out. "I know this perfect little Italian place nearby—way better than any Michelin spot."
They ended up in a cozy alley restaurant: red-and-white checkered tablecloths, Italian landscapes on the walls.
Ewan ordered like a regular. "Natalie lands this afternoon, right?"
"Yeah."
"And George tomorrow." Ewan leaned in, eyes sparkling with gossip. "So… you and her? Still a thing?"
Raphael raised an eyebrow. "What 'thing'?"
"Don't play dumb. I saw the vibe on set. She's been asking about you every time we talk—casual, but I'm not blind."
Raphael gave a short laugh. "That's her business."
Ewan shrugged and dropped it. "Fair. Just warning you—George is watching everyone like a hawk during press week. Don't cause drama."
They clinked glasses. Raphael ignored the fact he was still months from legal drinking age in the U.S.
After lunch they headed back to the hotel.
The second they stepped into the lobby, camera flashes exploded.
Natalie had just arrived.
White sundress, hair loose, perfect star smile, waving at the small press pack while her assistant tried to clear a path.
The moment she spotted Raphael, her smile faltered for half a second.
Then she looked away like nothing happened.
Raphael stayed at the edge of the crowd, watching her handle the reporters with practiced grace.
When the last flash went off and the pack finally thinned, Natalie turned.
Their eyes locked.
Ewan coughed awkwardly. "Uh… I'll head up first."
He vanished into the elevator.
Raphael walked over.
"Long time."
Natalie's smile disappeared completely.
"Six months."
Raphael blinked. "What?"
"Six months. Last text was February."
Her voice was calm, but the fire behind it was unmistakable.
Raphael shrugged. "I was filming."
"I know." She stepped closer. "Fast & Furious, Matrix, Step Up, shacking up with Jessica Alba, tabloid covers… oh, and two Victoria's Secret models, right?"
He didn't answer.
Natalie took another step. "You know how I spent the last six months?"
Raphael met her eyes, completely unfazed. "What do you want to hear? Sorry? I missed you? It was all fake?"
He paused. "Would you even believe me if I said any of that?"
Natalie stared at him, then suddenly laughed—short, bitter, honest.
"No. But I still want to hear it."
Raphael's eyebrow rose.
"You're…"
"Being pathetic," she finished. "I know. Don't bother saying it."
She turned toward the elevators, holding the door open.
"Come up."
Raphael didn't move at first.
Natalie kept the door propped, staring at him.
"You waiting for me to beg?"
He shook his head and stepped inside.
The doors closed.
Halfway up, Natalie leaned against his shoulder.
"You owe me six months," she whispered.
Raphael lowered his head, lips brushing her ear.
"How do you want me to repay it?"
She looked up, eyes dark.
"You tell me."
That night Raphael never made it back to his own room.
---
Next morning at seven, sunlight slipped through the curtains.
Natalie was still asleep beside him, hair spilled across the pillow.
Raphael checked the clock—first interview at nine.
He slipped out of bed, showered, and came back dressed.
Natalie was awake now, propped against the headboard, sheet pooled at her waist.
"Leaving?"
"Nine o'clock interview. Yours is… afternoon?"
She nodded.
Raphael paused at the door and glanced back.
"Tonight. Wait for me."
He stepped out.
Behind him, Natalie's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile.
The press tour had officially begun.
And Raphael Lee still had a debt to pay—both to the system and to the woman who refused to let six months of silence slide.
Box office or not, this week was going to be interesting.