"Tell me you're not thinking about working for Richard Moonwell." The system voice cut through Mark's thoughts as he rode through the city.
"No, I can't," Mark replied, weaving through traffic. "Though I'd consider it if I have to."
"Becky Moonwell is a potential ally. She's invested in you now, emotionally compromised in your favor. Using her father would damage that asset."
"I'm not that desperate." Mark's jaw tightened. "If I was willing to work for Zack, I would've taken the five thousand last time. But I'm not there yet."
"Correct assessment. Actually, your invitation card to the Viw Auction is already in your jacket pocket. Has been since this morning."
Mark nearly swerved into the next lane. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"
"You need to learn to read instructions and understand context, Mr. Lidorf. I told you your task was to raise the necessary capital and acquire the Bloodglass. The rest of the logistics were already arranged. The invitation appeared when you accepted the task. You simply failed to check."
Mark slowed his bike at the next red light and patted his jacket pocket. Sure enough, there was a thick card he hadn't noticed before. He pulled it out. Heavy cardstock, embossed lettering: Viw Auction House cordially invites M. Lidorf... Friday 8:00 PM... Formal attire required.
"Son of a bitch," Mark muttered. He'd been worried about the invitation for nothing. The system had already handled it, and he'd wasted mental energy on a solved problem.
He needed to learn not to worry so much. After all, the system was there to guide him, to smooth the path. Trust the process.
[COUNTDOWN: 38:59:01]
The numbers glowed in his vision. Less than thirty-nine hours remaining. He was pulling out his phone to call Alex, to start the delicate process, when the phone buzzed in his hand.
Harper. The old man was calling already.
What? This is way too early. Mark hadn't expected to hear from him for at least another day.
"Yes, Mr. Harper?" Mark answered, pulling over to the curb.
"Mr. Lidorf." The old man's voice was breathless, excited. "Your buyer just left the farm. He bought the land. This is insane, son. I've been trying to sell that property for six months and you flipped it in less than six hours."
What? This was happening faster than Mark had intended. Way faster. He killed the engine and sat there on his bike, processing.
A notification appeared on his phone screen.
[RECEIVED: $980,000 FROM JIMMY PABEBUNCANO]
Mark's blood went cold. Jimmy. Not Alex.
"Though he didn't buy it at a million exactly," Harper continued, oblivious to Mark's sudden tension. "His people negotiated down to nine hundred eighty thousand. Hope that's still acceptable? My lawyer and I tried to hold firm, but his team was... aggressive. Professional, but aggressive."
Of course. Alex must have told Jimmy about the opportunity, probably because he didn't have liquid capital on hand or didn't want to ask his grandfather for that much money without a proven deal. And Jimmy, being Jimmy, had reacted immediately. Moved fast with the ruthless efficiency that came from having been raised by Ben Sentara and Hugo Pabebuncano both.
The challenge was obvious: Mark was now $20,000 short of his million-dollar target.
"Thank you, Mr. Harper," Mark said, keeping his voice steady despite the knot forming in his stomach. He understood it had been too hard for the old man and his lawyer to negotiate with Jimmy's legal team. That was serious money, backed by serious power. The old man couldn't have resisted even if he'd wanted to.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Lidorf. You've got a hell of a future ahead of you if you keep this up." Harper sounded genuinely pleased.
"Understood. Thank you again."
Harper hung up, leaving Mark sitting on his bike at the curb, staring at his phone.
The money was on the system card, but it was twenty thousand short. He needed to raise the balance somehow, and he needed to do it fast.
Mark looked at the BMW beneath him. The bike he'd bought less than a week ago for twenty-five thousand dollars. The statement piece that had announced his transformation to everyone at Conbert. The symbol of his new life. Time to let it go. Time to swallow his pride.
He started the engine and rode toward the dealership where he'd bought it. The same showroom, the same salesman who'd sold it to him. Going back felt like admitting defeat, but Mark had learned long ago that ego was expensive. Survival mattered more than image.
The salesman spotted him pulling into the lot and recognition lit up his face immediately. That smug expression that said I knew it.
"Mr. Lidorf!" He walked out to meet Mark as he killed the engine. "You're back already?"
"Yeah, you guessed right," Mark said flatly, dismounting.
"Let me guess." The salesman's smile widened with barely concealed satisfaction. "You're here to return the bike. Realized twenty-five grand was a bit much for someone your age?"
"Something like that."
"We buy used bikes at fifteen thousand," the salesman said, his tone shifting to business. Cold, transactional. "That's our standard policy for recent purchases. Depreciation, you understand."
"Twenty thousand at least," Mark countered. "It's barely been ridden. Less than a hundred miles on it."
The salesman studied him for a moment, clearly enjoying this. The kid who'd shown up with cash and attitude was now crawling back, desperate to recoup some of his losses.
"Actually, I'm going to help you out, kid." The salesman's voice dripped with condescension. "I'll give you twenty thousand, because I'm a nice guy. But let this serve as a lesson next time you win the lottery or come into easy money. I knew you'd be back within the month. You all come back eventually."
Mark's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Every instinct screamed to walk away, to tell this smug bastard to go to hell, to find another solution that didn't involve being talked down to like a child.
But he needed the money. Needed it immediately. Pride was a luxury he couldn't afford right now.
He'd be patient a little bit longer. Swallow the humiliation. Complete this task tomorrow at the auction. Tomorrow he'd have two million dollars from the system. Tomorrow he'd be a real millionaire with actual resources to leverage his business skills.
Tomorrow he could buy ten of these bikes and not feel it.
"Fine," Mark said through gritted teeth. "Twenty thousand. Let's do the paperwork."
The salesman's smile widened. "Smart choice. Come on inside."
Twenty minutes later, Mark walked out of the dealership with a check for twenty thousand dollars and no motorcycle. The salesman was already moving the bike back into the showroom, probably planning to resell it for full price to the next sucker who walked in.
Mark stood in the parking lot, the sun beating down, and pulled out his phone.
[SYSTEM CARD BALANCE: $980,000]
[CHECK IN HAND: $20,000]
He'd done it. Raised exactly one million dollars in less than a day through a combination of flipping, negotiation, and swallowing his pride.
The system notification appeared. [TASK FOUR: Progress 85%]
Mark deposited the check using his phone's mobile app, watching the twenty thousand clear into his account almost immediately. One million dollars. All of it liquid, ready to spend.
Now he just had to not screw up the auction tomorrow night.