The Heir’s Awakening System

The Ledger Line

Midnight again. Montréal’s rue Saint-Jacques is a frozen canal of sodium light and black ice. Marcus steps from the staff exit of Phoenix Biomedical and the wind snaps his waiter coat like a flag—black polyester, white name-tag, silver thread pulsing at the collar. The System wakes, groggy, and throws a single line across his vision:

**[DEBT REMAINING: $1,149,600.00 — DUE: NOW — LATE FEE: $114,960.00 — TOTAL: $1,264,560.00]**

The numbers scroll once, then vanish. No offer, no plea, just arithmetic with teeth.

A car waits—different from yesterday’s sedan. This one is matte black, no plates, windows opaque. The rear door opens itself. Inside: leather, ozone, and the faint scent of formaldehyde. A woman in a driver’s uniform nods once. No words. The door seals. The city slides past like a film on mute.

The route is new. West. Past the university, past the frozen river, into an industrial zone where streetlights end and snow swallows sound. The car stops beside a warehouse that looks aban