Although the subject was primarily associated with students majoring in business administration, engineering undergraduates were required to study many of the same mathematical concepts during their first few years at university. Topics such as matrices, probability theory, linear programming, optimization models, statistics, and financial mathematics formed essential foundations for both disciplines, making the material immediately familiar to him.His attention naturally shifted toward the open notebook resting beside the textbook.Every page contained neat, elegant handwriting that made even complicated mathematical expressions remarkably easy to follow. Whoever owned the notebook clearly possessed excellent organizational habits. Equations aligned perfectly across the page, important formulas had been highlighted using different colors, and explanatory notes appeared neatly arranged along the margins.Unfortunately, the calculations themselves told a rather different story.Severa

Amelia remained silent for several long moments as she continued studying Dylan's student identification card. Although she had initially assumed he was merely being polite by offering advice, the words Faculty Academic Ranking: No. 1 carried a significance that was difficult to ignore. She understood all too well how competitive the engineering faculty at Westbridge University was. Every year, hundreds of exceptionally talented students fought for the highest grades, and earning the top position required far more than natural intelligence. It demanded relentless discipline, extraordinary problem-solving ability, and an understanding of mathematics that surpassed the vast majority of students on campus.Slowly lowering the identification card, Amelia looked back at Dylan with noticeably different eyes. The skepticism that had lingered in her expression moments earlier had softened into genuine curiosity, while the confidence with which he had spoken suddenly seemed far less surprisi

the time the final customer signed the delivery documents and the service van rolled back into Horizon Tech's parking lot, the digital clock mounted above the entrance displayed a few minutes past seven in the evening.After returning the vehicle keys, organizing his equipment, and clocking out for the day, Dylan finally stepped outside the store.A long breath escaped his lips.His shoulders felt heavy from carrying appliances across the city since early afternoon, while the lingering bruises left by Brandon's assault continued to remind him that his body hadn't fully recovered. Even so, today's events had been considerably better than anything he had experienced throughout the previous week.Not only had he completed another successful day's work, but he had also met someone who judged him based upon his character rather than the lies spreading across campus.The thought brought an unconscious smile to his face as he boarded a bus heading toward the university district.Nearly forty

he morning air felt unusually fresh as Dylan stepped out of the dormitory building and made his way toward the university's central walkway. Around him, students hurried in every direction with backpacks slung over their shoulders, coffee cups clutched tightly in their hands, and notebooks tucked beneath their arms as they raced to avoid arriving late for their first lectures of the day.Everything appeared perfectly ordinary.The campus bustled with the same familiar rhythm it followed every weekday morning.Yet for Dylan Kingston, nothing about today felt ordinary. With every step he took, he remained acutely aware of the small rectangular piece of paper resting securely inside his wallet.The winning lottery ticket.Even after waking up, receiving another unbelievable reward from the Daily Sign-In System, and swallowing the mysterious Body Enhancement Pill, his thoughts had repeatedly drifted back to the same question.How exactly was he supposed to claim twenty-five million dollar

The elevator ascended smoothly through the building, climbing floor after floor in complete silence. Soft instrumental music played quietly through concealed speakers while a digital display above the doors counted upward one level at a time. Dylan stood beside Mr. Richard Coleman with his hands folded loosely in front of him, doing his best to remain composed despite the excitement threatening to overwhelm him. Twenty-five million dollars. Even after the ticket had been officially authenticated downstairs, his mind still struggled to accept the reality. A few moments later, the elevator came to a gentle stop. Ding. The doors slid open to reveal an entirely different atmosphere from the busy public lobby below. The executive floor was remarkably quiet. Thick carpet covered the corridors, muffling every footstep, while elegant paintings and polished wooden paneling decorated the walls. Reception desks had been replaced by private offices enclosed behind frosted glass, each bear