THE ABSOLUTE APPRAISER SYSTEM

The scorching afternoon sun beat down ruthlessly on the manicured greens of the Royal Oaks Country Club. Ryan adjusted the strap of the massive leather golf bag cutting into his shoulder, wiping the sweat from his brow. Working as a caddie for the city’s elite was exhausting, humiliating work, but it paid enough to keep his sister in college and cover their monthly rent. He swallowed his pride daily, keeping his head down and focusing entirely on the future.

"Hey, luggage boy! Bring the driver and get over here!" a loud, arrogant voice echoed across the tenth hole.

"Right away, Mr. Sterling," Ryan replied instantly. He pulled the pristine titanium club from the bag and jogged over to the tee box, putting on his best professional smile.

When he reached the group, his smile shattered.

Standing right next to the tee box was his girlfriend of four years, Maya. She wasn't wearing her usual worn-out campus sneakers. Instead, she wore a pristine designer tennis skirt set, a diamond bracelet glinting on her wrist. Her hand was resting casually on the hip of Tyler Sterling—the notorious, trust-fund heir to Sterling Logistics and the most feared bully at Ryan's university.

Ryan felt the breath leave his lungs. The heavy golf bag suddenly felt like a ton of lead. "Maya? What... what are you doing here? You told me you were studying at the library today."

The group of wealthy students chuckled. Maya turned to face him, her eyes flashing with momentary guilt before freezing into an expression of absolute indifference. She didn't move away from Tyler.

"Well, look who finally noticed us," Tyler mocked, leaning heavily on his golf club while looking Ryan up and down. "I didn't realize Royal Oaks started hiring street beggars to carry our gear. Go fetch some fresh towels, peasant."

Ryan ignored the taunt, his eyes locked onto Maya. "Maya, please tell me what’s going on. I worked three consecutive night shifts this week so I could take you out for your birthday tomorrow. Why are you with him?"

Maya let out a sharp, annoyed breath, crossing her arms defensively. "Ryan, look at yourself. You're covered in sweat, you smell like grass, and your entire bank account wouldn't even cover the dinner Tyler bought me last night. I'm tired of riding the public bus. I'm tired of splitting cheap takeout boxes. I need a man who actually has a future, not a charity case."

"Four years, Maya..." Ryan’s voice cracked, the humiliation burning hot in his throat as the other caddies and golfers began to stare. "We had a plan."

"Plans don't buy designer clothes, Ryan," Maya snapped, her voice turning completely cold. "Tyler got my dad a management position at his company this morning. What can you do for me? Nothing. We're done. Don't text me again."

Tyler laughed loudly, pulling out a gold money clip. He slid out a thick wad of thousand-dollar bills and dropped them onto the dirt right by Ryan's muddy sneakers.

"Consider this a tip for the entertainment, loser. Clean my clubs, carry the bag, and maybe I won't tell the manager to kick you out," Tyler sneered.

A blinding surge of rage boiled in Ryan’s chest. He hurled the titanium driver onto the grass, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned stark white. "Keep your pathetic money and get out of my sight."

Tyler’s smug smile vanished, replaced by an ugly, venomous glare. "You really don't know your place, do you?" He spun around and bellowed toward the clubhouse. "Supervisor! Get your ass out here right now!"

Within seconds, the head country club supervisor sprinted down the path, bowing frantically to Tyler. "Mr. Sterling! What seems to be the issue? I apologize profusely—"

"This garbage caddie just assaulted me and threw my equipment," Tyler lied smoothly, dusting off his pristine polo shirt. "My family pays a fifty-thousand-dollar annual membership f*e here. If this trash isn't gone in five minutes, my father will cancel our corporate sponsorship by sunset."

The supervisor’s face turned pale. He whipped around to face Ryan, his eyes filled with absolute fury. "Ryan! You are finished! Strip off your club vest, leave the keys to the cart, and get off these premises immediately! You are fired, and you won't receive a single dime from this week's payout!"

"Sir, he's lying! Look at the security cameras—" Ryan tried to argue, but the supervisor roughly grabbed his vest, ripping it off his shoulders.

Ten minutes later, Ryan was shoved out of the staff security gates. His backpack was thrown into the dusty gravel road outside the venue. The iron gates locked shut behind him with a deafening metallic clang.

He sat on the curb of the dusty road, staring at his worn-out shoes. In the span of a single afternoon, he had lost his relationship, his livelihood, and his dignity. The rent was due in three days, and his sister's tuition payment deadline was tomorrow. He had officially crashed into absolute rock bottom. He let out a harsh, hollow laugh, staring at the sky.

Why? Why does money give people the right to treat others like stray dogs?

Suddenly, a high-pitched, mechanical ringing sound vibrated violently inside his skull.

BEEP—

Ryan gasped, dropping to his knees as a wave of intense vertigo hit him. An incredibly sharp, glowing holographic blue window materialized out of thin air, floating directly in front of his eyes.

[System Warning: Host vital parameters detected. High intelligence, extreme emotional distress, and maxed-out ambition for wealth confirmed.]

[System Notice: The Absolute Appraiser System has successfully integrated with the Host!]

[Data Synchronization: 100%. Welcome, Operator Ryan.]

Ryan rubbed his eyes furiously, but the floating words moved perfectly with his field of vision. He blinked, looking around the empty road.

As his eyes landed on a shattered glass bottle lying in the ditch across from him, a small, floating green text bubble popped up right over it:

[Target: Broken green glass bottle. Present Value: $0. Future Value: $0.]

His breath hitched. He turned his head toward a rusty, metallic piece of debris half-buried in the dirt near his backpack. A brand-new glowing tag snapped into focus:

[Target: Corroded Antique Coin (1804 Silver Dollar). Present Value: $2. True Value After Cleaning: $45,000. Growth Multiplier: 2,250,000%]

Ryan scrambled forward on his hands and knees, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. The deep despair in his chest vanished, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline. The system wasn't an illusion. The floating holographic tags were completely real, and he was looking at an absolute goldmine buried right in the mud.