Dinner ended with the faint scent of spices still clinging to the air, a quiet reminder of warmth in a night filled with unspoken things. The laughter had long died down, replaced by the soft hum of the city beyond the estate gates.
Ethan stood by the door, watching as Lena adjusted her coat. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was heavy, layered with things neither of them dared to voice.
He followed her down the driveway until she reached the main road. The streetlights flickered against her face, painting her eyes in gold and shadow.
"Text me when you get home," he said softly.
"I will."
Her voice trembled, just barely. The cab pulled up; she opened the door, then hesitated. Their eyes met one last time—long enough for something wordless to pass between them. A moment stretched, then broke.
The cab door closed, and she was gone.
Ethan stood there until the taillights faded into the dark. Only then did he turn away, the cool wind brushing past his face as he headed back toward the hills.
The night had deepened by the time he reached the quiet streets near Hills Estate. The glow from the distant buildings made the horizon shimmer faintly, but his thoughts were elsewhere—caught between confusion and an uneasy pull he couldn't explain.
He stopped near a small park, the one close to the main intersection before the hill road. A single bench sat beneath a flickering lamppost.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before sitting down.
For a moment, the world seemed still. Only the faint hum of cars in the distance broke the silence.
Ethan opened his dashboard.
[Money Deck System – Version 1.0]
Host: Ethan IverBalance: $7,000,000System Points: 21Card Draws Available: 5Exchange Rate: 1 SP = $100,000
System Cards:♣ Clubs – Grind for Strength♦ Diamonds – Earn Real Money♥ Hearts – Locked♠ Spades – Locked
Attributes:Strength – 10Agility – 10Endurance – 10Intelligence – 10Perception – 8
Active Mission: Club of 6 – Repair Seth's KitchenPending: None
He stared at the screen for a while. Everything seemed fine—stable. No errors, no sudden flares, no strange holographic text like before.
Still, he couldn't forget the way it had reacted earlier—when Lena kissed him. That sudden surge of light, the pulse across his vision, and then the forbidden function that flashed before vanishing.
It hadn't been a glitch. The system didn't glitch.
He leaned back on the bench, watching the night sky. The clouds drifted slow, tinted deep purple against the fading blue.
"Why did it react that way?" he muttered under his breath.
No answer came, only the faint breeze rustling the leaves.
After a while, his body relaxed. The exhaustion from the day settled over him like a quiet blanket.
He closed his eyes briefly, replaying the dinner in his head—the scent of food, the flicker of tension between Lena and Faye, and the way both names carried hidden stories he wasn't ready to uncover.
The way Lena looked at him before leaving.
The way Faye looked at her.
Too many questions. No answers.
He remembered the fragments of conversation between the two women as he cooked. At first, he hadn't paid attention. But as their voices rose slightly, curiosity had slipped in. Words like organization and PX caught his ear—sharp, foreign, and completely out of place.
He hadn't understood what they meant.
He still didn't.
If they knew each other before all this, then what exactly had he been dragged into?
He sighed again, staring at the faint reflection of the holographic dashboard hovering in front of him.
Seven million dollars in balance. Twenty-one system points. Five draws left.
He had everything he needed to keep progressing—money, missions, growth.
Yet for the first time, none of it felt stable.
That kiss had changed something. Not just in the system… but in him.
He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to think rationally.
The Money Deck System had clear rules. Version 1.0 wasn't supposed to register emotional connections or loyalty values—that was part of the later upgrade path. But the text had appeared anyway:
[LENA PARK – Affection 33 % | Loyalty 50 %]
An impossible feature for his version.
He frowned.
Either the system was evolving faster than intended… or something external had influenced it.
He looked up at the night again, lost in thought.
If the system could react to emotions, what else could it do that he didn't yet understand?
After sitting in silence for what felt like hours, Ethan finally took out his phone. The digital clock read 9:43 PM.
He scrolled through his contacts and stopped at one name: Mom.
He pressed call.
The line rang twice before her gentle voice came through.
"Ethan? It's late, dear. Are you all right?"
Her tone was tired but soft—like warmth in the cold.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, smiling faintly. "Just… wanted to check on you. How's the hotel?"
"It's comfortable enough. Anna's already asleep. She insisted on waiting for you earlier, but you know how she is."
He chuckled quietly. "Yeah… tell her I'll visit soon. Promise."
"You sound exhausted," his mother said after a pause. "You've been working nonstop again, haven't you?"
"Something like that." He leaned back, looking at the faint stars. "I just… needed to clear my head a bit."
"Then rest, Ethan. Money isn't everything. Your father used to say—"
"Yeah," Ethan cut in softly, smiling. "I remember."
There was silence for a moment—comfortable, familiar.
Then his mother's voice lowered, almost hesitant. "You've been doing well, haven't you? That system of yours… it's not hurting you, is it?"
Ethan's grip tightened slightly around the phone.
"No. It's fine," he lied gently. "It helps more than it hurts."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Goodnight, Mom."
"Goodnight, Ethan."
He ended the call, staring at the blank screen for a while.
The air had cooled by the time he stood up from the bench. Streetlights stretched across the road, thin trails of gold along the pavement.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, walking toward the path that led back up the hill.
Each step echoed quietly, his thoughts following behind like shadows.
He needed to check on Seth's Kitchen soon—the repairs, the mission progress, the contractors he'd hired.
He needed to visit his mother and sister.
He needed to figure out what PX meant.
Too many threads, all tangled together.
He exhaled slowly.
For now, he just wanted peace.
When he finally reached the crest of the hill, he turned once more to look back at the city below. The lights were endless—tiny fragments of life scattered across the dark.
He pulled up the dashboard again, staring at the glowing interface floating before him.
[Active Mission: Club of 6 – Repair Seth's Kitchen]
Progress: 37 %
Reward:
He tapped the air to close it.
Tomorrow, he would continue.
For tonight, he'd let the silence stay.
As he walked through the gates of Hills Estate, the automatic lights flickered on. The villa stood silent against the night, the windows dim except for one faint light near the kitchen.
He paused at the entrance. For a second, he thought he saw movement—a shadow slipping past the curtain. But when he looked again, nothing was there.
Probably just his imagination.
He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and the faint hum of the system echoed softly in his mind.
[System Notification]User fatigue detected.Recommended: Rest or Meditation.
He smiled faintly. "Yeah… yeah, I'll rest."
The holographic interface faded.
The house was quiet.
And for the first time that night, Ethan let the weight of everything drift away.
He set his phone on the table, leaned back on the couch, and stared at the ceiling.
The world was changing—slowly, unpredictably.
Maybe so was he.
meanwhile
In the dim glow of the penthouse suite at the Grand Meridian Hotel, Adam Vale ended the call with a curt, "Keep eyes on them. No moves yet." He tossed the phone onto the nightstand and turned to the woman stretched across the silk sheets. Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, tracing silver lines over her bare shoulder.
She smiled, slow and knowing, as he slid back beside her. His lips found hers—soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. Fingers traced lazy paths along warm skin, drawing quiet gasps that mingled with the low hum of the city far below. Clothes had vanished earlier; now there was only heat, breath, the slide of bodies finding rhythm.
Time blurred. Once, twice, three times they moved together—urgent, then languid, then urgent again—until exhaustion pulled them under. Limbs tangled, hearts slowing, they drifted into sleep, the sheets twisted like evidence of a storm that had passed.
Outside, the night kept its secrets.