Rise to power with my multi million dollars system

Kind hearted: System activation

 The first thing Jake became aware of wasn't the light, but the smell. It was a sharp, sterile scent that stung the back of his throat—bleach, rubbing alcohol, and that distinctive, heavy aroma of sickness that only exists in public wards.His eyes fluttered open. 

 The ceiling above him was a grid of stained acoustic tiles, one of them sagging from a leak that had long since dried. A harsh, fluorescent hum vibrated in the air, punctuated by the rhythmic, mechanical heartbeat of a nearby monitor.

 Beep.

 Beep. 

 Beep

.The sound was relentless. Every pulse felt like a tiny hammer striking the inside of his skull. Groggily, Jake tried to shift his weight, but a flare of agony shot through his ribs, stealing his breath. 

 He collapsed back onto the thin, stiff mattress, his head spinning so violently he had to squeeze his eyes shut.The darkness behind his eyelids was worse. That’s where the memories lived.They trickled in at first—small, jagged shards of the previous night. The cold air of the boutique. The feel of the silk dress in his hands. Then, the dam broke, and the full weight of the betrayal hit him with a force that made his lungs seize.

.Anna.

 The name didn't feel like love anymore. It felt like a jagged piece of glass turning in his chest. He saw her face again, but it wasn't the face he had spent two years memorizing. It wasn't the girl who had shared a three-dollar umbrella with him in the rain or the one who had promised they would find a way out of the slums together.

.He remembered Alex’s face—that smug, bronze mask of a man who had never known a day of hunger in his life. He saw the way Alex moved, with a confident, predatory stride that screamed power. But what hurt the most wasn't Alex’s strength; it was the way Anna had looked at him. She had looked at the Mafia Boss with a hunger and a reverence that Jake had never been able to earn, no matter how many double shifts he worked or how many meals he skipped to buy her trinkets.

 Jake’s hands balled into fists, his fingernails biting into the calloused skin of his palms. He recalled the moment Anna had first mentioned "a friend" months ago. He had brushed it off as his own insecurity, telling himself he was being paranoid because he knew he wasn't "enough" for a girl like her. He had convinced himself that if he just worked harder, saved more, and loved her better, she would never look away.

.But the kiss. God, the kiss.Bile rose in Jake’s throat, and he had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting on the linoleum floor. He could still see them—the way Anna’s lips had met Alex’s with a practiced ease, the way she had melted into his expensive wool coat. It was a kiss that spoke of months of secrecy. It was a kiss that proved every "I love you" she had said to Jake in the last half-year was a calculated lie.

 Hot, relentless tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to be a man, the kind of man who could stand up and walk away without looking back. But the pain was a physical weight, a punch to the gut that had left him gasping for air in a room that smelled like death. He let out a shaky, broken breath, and the first sob escaped him—a ragged, ugly sound that was swallowed by the hum of the hospital.He replayed every conversation, every late-night walk, searching for the cracks. 

 Was it the time I couldn't afford the anniversary dinner? Was it the day my bike broke and I showed up to her place covered in grease? The self-doubt began to whisper in his ear, a cold, oily voice telling him that he was exactly what they said he was.Maybe Alex was right. Maybe a two-thousand-dollar dress was just a "rag" to people who mattered. Maybe Jake was just a stray dog Anna had looked after until a better breed came along.

 As the tears slowed, leaving his face tight and salt-stained, a different sensation began to stir in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't sadness. It was a low, glowing ember of rage. It started small, a flickering heat beneath his bruised ribs, but it grew with every memory of Anna spitting on him.He remembered her eyes—not the "sweet Anna" from his memories, but the woman who had looked at his broken body with nothing but disgust. That was the real Anna. The girl he loved was a ghost he had invented to keep himself going.With a sudden, jerky movement, Jake swung his legs over the side of the bed. The cold of the floor sent a shock through his system, grounding him. He sat there for a moment, his head down, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. His body was a map of bruises—his jaw was swollen, his ribs were taped, and his pride was a smoking ruin."Alex was rich," he whispered to the empty room.The thought made his blood boil. He thought about how Alex had torn down his dignity with a single flick of a finger. If it had been anyone else—anyone poor—Anna would have fought for him. She would have stayed. 

 But money was the only language she spoke fluently, and Alex was a master of it.He pictured Alex’s triumphant smile, the smile of a predator who hadn't just stolen a girl, but had crushed a rival for sport. And then he remembered the disappointment in Anna’s eyes when she looked at his three-dollar delivery tip.The rage finally broke through. Jake didn't just want to forget her. He wanted to erase the version of himself that had allowed this to happen. He wanted to squeeze the life out of the world that had made him an orphan, a servant, and a victim.

."Why?" he roared, the sound tearing through the quiet of the ward.He didn't care if the nurses heard him. He didn't care if the other patients stared. He threw a pillow across the room, watching it hit the wall with a dull thud.

."Why am I the one in this bed? Why am I the one with nothing? Why is my luck so goddamn unfortunate?"He collapsed back onto the bed, rolling back and forth as the memories of Anna’s face haunted him like a fever dream. 

 "If only... if only I could be rich. I could have protected her. I could have been the one in the suit. I could have been the one holding the power."He felt the crushing weight of reality. In Avalud, there were no miracles. There was no social ladder—there was only a wall, and Jake was at the very bottom, buried in the mud. He felt a soul-deep hopelessness, a certainty that this was his destiny. He was born in an orphanage, and he would die in a charity ward, a footnote in the lives of people like Alex and Anna."I’m nothing," he choked out, his voice failing him. "I’m just... nothing."He lay there, staring up at the sagging ceiling tile, waiting for the darkness to take him back. He was ready to give up. He was ready to accept the dirt.And then, it happened.

Ding!

 The sound echoed in his skull, silencing the hum of the room and the beeping of the heart monitor. Jake froze. He didn't move. He didn't breathe.In front of his eyes, a thin, translucent blue line began to draw itself in the air, glowing with a soft, neon light. It hovered there, defying the laws of the world he knew, a flickering bridge between the boy who had lost everything and something far more dangerous.The screen flickered, and words began to form, glowing with a golden hue that made the hospital room seem to vanish into the shadows.Jake stared at the floating text, his breath hitching in his throat. He reached out a trembling, bruised hand to touch the light, but his fingers passed right through it.The "unfortunate luck" he had cursed for twenty years had finally run out. Something else had taken its place.

[Desperation Threshold: 100% Reached.]

[Legacy Protocol: Initiated.]

[Welcome, Host.]