System: I Can See Investment Returns

The velvet box felt heavy in my jacket pocket. I checked my watch for the third time. 8:15 PM. Sarah was fifteen minutes late. 

I signaled the waiter for another glass of tap water. My thumb traced the sharp edge of the box. Three years of overtime, skipped vacations, and eating instant noodles had led to this night. The restaurant, *Le Jardin*, was the most expensive place in the city. I had saved for eight months just to afford the deposit for this table. 

"I'll be right back," I told the waiter, standing up. 

I walked toward the restrooms, but as I passed the semi-private VIP lounge, the heavy oak door was left slightly ajar. I heard Sarah’s laugh. It wasn’t the soft, sweet laugh she used when we were alone. It was sharp, loud, and mocking.

"Three years? Please, I was just bored," Sarah said. The clinking of ice against a crystal glass followed. "Leo is safe. He’s predictable. He pays for everything without asking questions. But Richard, you know I’ve been waiting for you to make your move."

"And the ring?" Richard’s voice was smooth, dripping with the kind of arrogance that comes from a trust fund. "Did the little analyst buy it?"

"If he buys it tonight, I’ll pawn it tomorrow," Sarah replied. "We can use the money for our trip to Bali. He’ll probably cry for a week, but he’ll get over it. He always does."

My hand stopped on the brass door handle. The plastic ring box dug into my palm. 

I didn't kick the door open. I didn't yell or make a scene. I just let go of the handle, turned around, and walked back to my table. I picked up my coat, walked past the hostess, and pushed through the front glass doors into the cold night air. 

A minute later, the doors opened again. Sarah and Richard walked out, laughing. Richard spotted me first. He nudged Sarah. 

"Oh, look. The wallet is waiting outside," Richard said, his voice carrying over the street noise. 

Sarah’s smile vanished. She walked over, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement. "Leo? What are you doing out here? We have a reservation."

I looked at her. Really looked at her. "Just leaving. Have a good night."

I stepped around her. Richard moved quickly, blocking my path. He was taller than me, wearing a tailored suit that cost more than my car. "Did you hear us in there?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I heard enough," I said. My voice was flat. "Keep the ring. I dropped it in the trash can by the entrance."

Richard laughed, a short, barking sound. "Good. You finally know your place, Leo. Don't come crawling back when you're broke."

I didn't look back. I just kept walking. 

It started to rain ten minutes later. A cold, heavy downpour that soaked through my jacket. I walked two blocks to my cheap apartment building, my mind completely blank. I wasn't angry. I was just calculating the time I had wasted. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. A text from Sarah: *Don't be dramatic. Come back and apologize. Richard is just a friend.*

I stared at the screen for a second, then blocked her number. I threw the phone onto my bed and reached into my pocket for my keys. My fingers brushed against a cold, round object. 

It was a rusted, heavy coin I’d bought at a flea market for five bucks a year ago. I used it as a fidget toy when I was stressed. I pulled it out and flipped it into the air. 

It came down, but the sharp, uneven edge sliced cleanly across my thumb. 

"Damn it," I hissed. A drop of blood welled up and fell directly onto the rusted metal. 

The blood didn't drip off. It absorbed into the rust, turning the metal a bright, glowing blue. A sharp, electric pain shot up my arm, forcing me to drop the coin. It hit the floorboards and dissolved into a burst of light. 

The light expanded, forming a semi-transparent, holographic screen right in front of my eyes. I stumbled back, blinking hard. The screen moved with my vision, perfectly anchored to my perspective.

**[Ding! Omni-Investment System activated.]**

**[Host: Leo Vance]**

**[Current Net Worth: $412.50]**

**[System Function: View Investment Return Rates for all targets.]**

I stood in the middle of my cramped living room, staring at the floating text. I reached out to touch it. My hand passed right through the blue light. 

"Okay," I muttered to the empty room. "Hallucination. Carbon monoxide leak. Or I finally lost my mind."

I looked at my cat, Barnaby, who was sleeping on the sofa. The text on the screen shifted, focusing on the animal.

**[Target: Barnaby (Domestic Cat)]**

**[Investment: Feed him premium tuna.]**

**[Return Rate: 0%]**

**[Expected Return: A purring cat.]**

I blinked. The text faded. I looked at the cracked television in the corner.

**[Target: Broken LCD TV]**

**[Investment: Pay $200 for repairs.]**

**[Return Rate: -50%]**

**[Expected Return: A working TV that will break again in three months.]**

My heart started to beat faster. This wasn't a hallucination. The data was too specific, too structured. I walked to the window and looked down at the rainy street. I focused on a stray dog digging through a tipped-over trash can.

**[Target: Stray Dog]**

**[Investment: Give it food.]**

**[Return Rate: 0%]**

I shifted my gaze to a parked, dented Honda Civic.

**[Target: 2021 Honda Civic]**

**[Investment: Buy it for $5,000.]**

**[Return Rate: 15%]**

**[Expected Return: Reliable transportation. Resale value: $5,750.]**

It was real. I could see the future value of everything. I leaned against the window frame, my mind racing. If I could see the return rate, I could turn my $412 into something massive. I just needed to find a high-percentage target. 

I looked back down at the street. Under the awning of a closed bakery, an old man was sitting on a cardboard box. He was shivering, holding a soggy cardboard sign that read *Hungry. Anything helps.*

I focused on him. The blue text expanded, filling my vision.

**[Target: Arthur Pendelton]**

**[Status: Disgraced former hedge fund manager. Currently homeless. Blacklisted by major financial firms.]**

**[Investment: Give him $50 and a hot meal.]**

**[Return Rate: 10,000%]**

**[Expected Return: $500,000 cash transfer + Expert Financial Network Access.]**

I stared at the numbers. Ten thousand percent. 

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my coat, ran down the three flights of stairs, and pushed back out into the rain. I walked straight to the old man. He looked up, his eyes cloudy and tired.

"I'm not looking for trouble, son," he rasped, pulling his thin jacket tighter. 

"I'm not giving you trouble," I said. I reached into my wallet and pulled out three twenty-dollar bills and a ten. I held them out. "Come on. Let's get you a burger."

He stared at the money, then up at my face. He didn't reach for it. "Why?" he asked, his voice suspicious. "Nobody gives away fifty bucks for a burger."

"Call it an investment," I said, keeping my hand steady in the rain. 

He looked at the money for a long moment, then slowly reached out and took it. As his fingers brushed the bills, a soft chime rang in my head.

**[Investment Successful.]**

**[Processing Return...]**

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was a notification from my banking app. 

*Deposit Received: $500,000.00.*

*Sender: A. Pendelton Trust.*

I looked back at the old man. He was standing up, and the shivering had stopped. He looked at me, and for a second, the cloudy look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, calculating gleam