Chapter 2 The night was merciless. Cold wind swept across the empty street, tugging at Ethan’s suit jacket as he staggered into the darkness. The glitter of the banquet hall still clung to his memory like a cruel ghost, but here, under the flickering streetlamps, there was nothing but shadows and silence. His shoes scraped against the pavement. His tie hung loose around his neck. The laughter from the hall echoed in his head, a chorus of ridicule that refused to fade. Every step he took seemed heavier, as though the humiliation had fused itself to his bones. Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting to breathe. Why? The question spun endlessly in his mind. Why did she do it like that? In front of everyone? He remembered Lily’s words, sharp and merciless: “You’re nothing but dead weight.” They struck harder than any fist could. For years, he had believed love was enough. He had believed that with time, with patience, he could build a future worthy of her. But tonight proved

Chapter 4 The device sat in Ethan’s palm, heavier than its size should allow. It was smooth, black, and cold, yet the faint glow on its screen made it feel alive … almost aware of him. Welcome, Ethan Cole. Initialization in progress. The words pulsed softly, as though the System itself was breathing. Ethan swallowed hard, his throat dry. “This… this isn’t real. It can’t be real.” Jonathan’s steady gaze never left him. “Reality doesn’t ask for your belief, Ethan. It simply exists. Whether you accept it or not is up to you.” Ethan’s chest tightened. Just hours ago, he was the man everyone mocked … a fool, abandoned in front of a crowd. Now he was sitting in the back of a sleek black sedan, being told he was heir to an empire, holding a device that seemed to whisper promises of greatness. It was too much. Too sudden. Too impossible. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea what happened to me tonight? They laughed at me. They called me trash. My own fiancée… s

Chapter 6 Ethan sat at the edge of his bed long after Jonathan had gone. The house was quiet, the city beyond still humming with its indifferent rhythm, yet his mind was anything but still. He kept replaying Jonathan’s words, the System’s interface, and the unbearable memories of humiliation that had dragged him here. “System,” he whispered again, almost mockingly. “If you’re real, then prove it.” No reply came. The silence felt heavier than ridicule. Ethan rubbed his palms against his jeans, torn between laughter and despair. Maybe I’ve finally lost it. First, a ruined engagement, then a fantasy device promising salvation. What’s next? Voices in my head telling me I’m destined to be king? Yet a tiny flicker inside him refused to die. Hope, fragile but persistent, clung to him like a stubborn weed pushing through cracked stone. He looked around his sparse room. Nothing about it screamed destiny — peeling wallpaper, a single chair, and a desk stacked with books he hadn’t touched

Chapter 8 By the time Ethan returned to his flat, the city sky was bleeding into dusk. The last streaks of amber and violet stretched across the horizon like bruises, fading into the encroaching dark. Streetlamps flickered to life one by one, their pale orange halos casting weak circles against cracked sidewalks. The air was cool, damp with the smell of rain that hadn’t yet fallen. Ethan’s steps were lighter than they had been in months. His shoes scuffed the uneven pavement, but for once, he didn’t feel crushed beneath the weight of failure. There was something in his pocket that hadn’t come from pity or scraps. A hundred pounds. It wasn’t wealth, not by any measure, but it was his. Earned through his own hands, his own skill. Not charity. Not leftovers. For once, he felt more than the boy people mocked. Inside his flat, the dim corridor creaked with every step. His door resisted as always, groaning on rusty hinges before giving way. The smell of his own space greeted him. stale

Chapter 10 The side street was silent. Not the calm kind of silence, but the kind that pressed against your eardrums and made every sound feel magnified. Ethan’s breathing seemed too loud, each inhale scraping at his throat. Somewhere in the distance, a car hummed past, its tires sloshing through wet asphalt, and the faint drip-drip-drip of a leaking pipe echoed from above. And then...movement. A figure detached itself from the shadows. Tall. Lean. Wrapped in black from cap to boots, his face obscured by a cyclist’s mask. Only his eyes were visible. dark, unreadable, glinting faintly under the yellow glow of the lamppost. He didn’t advance. He didn’t retreat. He simply stood there. Watching. Ethan’s chest tightened. The System pulsed faintly across his vision: [Threat Detected. Unknown Identity. Risk Level: Moderate.] His palms dampened, his voice cracked before he steadied it. “Who’s there?” The man said nothing. Just the unnerving silence of someone who didn’t need to speak