2026-10-10 22:25:57
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Face To Face
By late afternoon, I sat in a luxurious conference room inside the Smith Conglomerate skyscraper. Before me lay a contract decades of pages thick, accompanied by an expensive gold pen at its side, as though they expected me to sign it immediately without bothering to read it over."Please review it first, Mr. Zeffran. Though usually, our partners sign right away since this is our standard draft," the company representative said with a warm smile that felt entirely fabricated.I activated Contract Analysis. My eyes swept over row after row of print on the sheets. At first, everything appeared ordinary, until my gaze landed on page twelve. A short line within an additional clause suddenly glowed with a faint red hue in my vision."This clause," I said, pointing directly at the red line, "states that if the project suffers a loss, the entire financial burden falls on my shoulders. However, if it generates a profit, seventy percent goes to the Smith Conglomerate. This isn't a standard dra
The Contested Property
That morning, I was just about to brew a cup of coffee in the small room behind the old warehouse I had recently purchased. After days of absolute madness, ranging from a terminal diagnosis and a miraculous revival through the Ring of Prosperity to uncovering secret archives alongside Rosse yesterday, I desperately craved a moment of peace.However, the harsh screech of tires bringing a car to a sudden halt in the courtyard outside instantly shattered that quiet.Looking out from behind the door, my heart pounded against my ribs. A sleek black sedan and two operational vehicles were parked right there. A party consisting of three men in neat suits, two uniformed officials, and a foreign investor stepped out, approaching my warehouse door without any prior notice.I stepped outside, crossing my arms over my chest while watching them with deep suspicion. "Can I help you with something this early?""Mr. Alsean Zeffran?" The man in the neat suit at the front spoke up, extending a thick fo
A Junkyard Housing Wonders
"Why would anyone buy a scrapyard like this?" mocked a man in a Relife Corporation uniform, staring at me under the scorching midday New York sun. The bankrupt asset auction was being held right in the courtyard of an old colonial-era warehouse.I merely offered a subtle smile while gazing at the rusting structure. Last night, the ring on my finger had guided me to the auction notice board for these liquidated assets."Prosperity Token active," the system's voice echoed in my head the moment I stepped toward the half-rotted warehouse door. "High-value object detected inside.""What object? It's just an old warehouse," I muttered softly, my eyes sweeping over the looming structure of rusted iron."Details will be revealed once official ownership changes hands.""Fifty thousand dollars," the auctioneer's voice began, the figure echoing across the yard and prompting most participants to shake their heads, deeming a warehouse full of scrap metal clearly not worth the price."Fifty-five th
The Collector Ring Club
"Are you sure you want to come in alone to a place like this, young man?"The security guard in a black suit sized me up from head to toe, making no effort to hide his skepticism. Across the street, rows of luxury cars sat neatly parked, a stark contrast to the beat-up minivans or city buses I usually rode."My invitation is valid, Sir. Please check for yourself."I handed over the black card emblazoned with gold ink, my heart pounding rapidly even as I forced my face to stay as composed as possible. Last night's mysterious envelope turned out to hold more than just a threat-laced photograph; tucked behind it was an invitation card to The Golden Vault Society, a collector's club whose name I had only heard for the very first time yesterday evening.The guard scanned the card, his eyebrows lifting slightly as the handheld screen flashed a green validation signal. "Please step inside, Mr. Alsean Zeffran."The marble-lined lobby of the building was illuminated by grand crystal chandelier
Targeted
"Come out. I've known you were following me for three blocks."I threw those words into the chilly New York night air without turning back. My voice was sharp, even as my palms broke into a cold sweat inside my jacket pockets. My new shoes struck the pavement in a rhythm I intentionally accelerated—one block, two blocks, three sharp turns that should have thrown off anyone trailing me.Yet the footsteps behind me remained. Consistent. Unhurried, but never falling behind.I turned abruptly into a narrow side alley beside a closed storefront. Still, the shadow behind me clung close.I made another turn, this time ducking into a cramped, dead-end alley that ended at a tall brick wall covered in graffiti. A trap I had deliberately set, even as my heart hammered far faster than I cared to show.The footsteps behind me came to a halt right at the alley's mouth. I turned, putting on as calm an expression as I could muster, though my hands remained tightly clenched to hide their shaking.The
A System That Cannot Be Deceived
"Are you certain this item is only valued at that price, Sir? It looks rather ordinary."The auctioneer's voice echoed through the high-ceilinged hall filled with guests in expensive suits. They sat in neat rows, holding bidding paddles in their hands.I sat in the back row, wearing my new dark blue button-down shirt, attempting to look as composed as possible in a room vastly different from the world I was used to.The auction staff had approached me when I registered at the desk, looking over my appearance with an appraising eye."Pardon me, Sir, but before entering the auction room, there is a minimum deposit of fifty thousand dollars," the attendant said, his tone polite yet tinged with doubt."No problem," I replied calmly, swiping my debit card without hesitation.The staff member checked the machine's display screen and gave a respectful nod. "Please, step right in, Sir."I observed the collectors, who all seemed to know one another."Next lot, an eighteenth-century replica Min
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