Prestige Spending System

Chapter 2

The screen flashed bright white, hurting his eyes, and then went completely pitch black.

Julian tried to press the power button to restart it. Nothing happened. He tried to press the volume buttons. Still nothing.

Then, deep in the black screen, glowing gold letters began to type themselves out, one by one. There was no sound, just the silent, steady appearance of words.

[Scanning Target...]

[Target Identified: Julian Musk.]

[Financial Status: Critical. Social Status: Critical.]

[Compatibility: 100%.]

[Installing... The Prestige Spending System.]

Julian stared at the phone. He wiped his eyes, thinking the rain and the stress were making him hallucinate. "The what system?" he whispered to himself.

The gold letters vanished, replaced by a clean, incredibly sharp golden box in the center of the screen.

[Binding Complete. Welcome, Host.]

[Current System Balance: $10,000,000.00]

Julian’s eyes went wide. He rubbed his eyes hard and looked again. Ten million dollars. Ten million dollars was sitting on his screen. His heart leaped into his throat. If this was real, Lily was saved! He could pay for the surgery a hundred times over! He could buy the entire hospital floor!

He quickly tapped the screen, trying to figure out how to transfer the money to his empty bank account.

A new message popped up in bold red letters, stopping him completely.

[WARNING: Please read the System Rules carefully.]

[Rule 1: All System funds are legally clean, untraceable, and ready for immediate use via the Host's mobile phone.]

[Rule 2: You are currently Level 1. At Level 1, Host CANNOT spend System funds directly on personal debts, housing, or family members. Any attempt to pay medical bills or transfer money to family will be instantly blocked.]

Julian felt as if he had been slapped in the face. The massive wave of hope vanished, leaving him feeling sick to his stomach. "I have ten million dollars, and I can't even pay for my sister's surgery? What kind of sick joke is this?" he shouted at the phone.

The screen shifted, as if answering his question.

[Rule 3: To reach Level 2 and remove the family spending restriction, Host must earn exactly 100 Prestige Points.]

[How to earn Prestige Points: Host must use System funds to aggressively spend on luxury items, services, or public displays. You must create strong feelings of shock, awe, envy, or extreme gratitude in other people. The bigger the public impact, the more Prestige Points you will earn.]

Julian read the words three times to make sure he understood. It was a game. A sick, twisted game of numbers and psychology.

To save Lily, he could not just give the hospital money. He had to level up. To level up, he had to become a monster of wealth. He had to spend ridiculous amounts of money on useless, flashy things just to make other people stare at him in shock. He had to buy the awe of the public. If he did that, he would get points. If he got points, he would hit Level 2. If he hit Level 2, his sister would live.

It sounded crazy. It sounded impossible. But right now, his bank account was completely empty, and his sister was dying. He had no other choice. He had to believe the glowing gold letters.

"Okay," Julian breathed out, his hands gripping the phone tight. "Okay. I will play your game. I will spend it all. Give me a task."

As if waiting for his command, the phone gave a sharp, high-pitched chime. The golden text turned a dangerous, glowing red.

[Mission Triggered: First Blood.]

[Objective: Spend exactly $100,000.00 in the next 60 minutes.]

[Failure Penalty: The System will unbind forever. All funds will vanish.]

At the very top of the screen, a digital timer appeared.

59:59.

59:58.

59:57.

Panic flared in Julian's chest. One hundred thousand dollars in one hour? Everything was closed! It was eight o'clock at night and pouring rain! Where could he possibly spend that kind of money so quickly?

He stood up from the bus stop bench and looked wildly down the dark, wet street. Most of the storefronts were completely dark. Cafes were locked. Small shops had their metal gates pulled down.

Then, he saw it.

Directly across the street, standing out against the gloomy night, was a building glowing with soft, warm light. The sign above the door was carved in elegant cursive letters: Aurelius.

It was the most exclusive luxury menswear boutique in the entire city. It was the kind of place where billionaires bought their suits. The kind of place that usually required a private phone call and a background check just to make an appointment to look at a necktie. They stayed open late for their VIP clients.

Julian looked down at himself. His cheap grey suit was ripped at the knee. His white dress shirt was covered in mud from the pavement. His hair was plastered to his forehead with dirty rainwater. He looked exactly like a homeless vagrant.

He looked back at his phone. The timer was ticking down fast.

58:12.

Julian thought of Lily lying in her cold hospital bed. He thought of Marcus smiling as he stole his life's work. He thought of Chloe telling him he was just a stepping stone.

His fear vanished. He did not care about looking foolish. He did not care about being embarrassed. Money was power, and right now, he had the ultimate weapon resting in the palm of his hand.

Julian stepped out of the bus stop and walked directly into the pouring rain. He crossed the empty street, his wet shoes squeaking on the asphalt. He marched straight up to the massive, heavy, gold-plated doors of Aurelius.

He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the gold handle and pushed the door open with force.

A wave of warm, lavender-scented air washed over him. Soft, elegant classical music was playing from hidden speakers. The floor was covered in an authentic Persian rug that looked softer than a bed.

The music suddenly seemed to stop.

In the center of the grand room, four older tailors wearing perfect, flawless black suits froze in place. They were holding measuring tapes and expensive fabrics. They slowly turned their heads toward the entrance.

Their eyes widened in horror. They stared at the dripping wet, bruised, muddy man standing on their priceless Persian rug. Puddles of dirty water were already forming around Julian's worn-out shoes.

The silence in the room was heavier than the rain outside.