Marcus Chen stared at his phone screen, watching the number in his bank account mock him: $247.32.
Two hundred and forty-seven dollars. That's what three years of loyalty to Meridian Tech had gotten him. That, and a front-row seat to his own humiliation at last night's company gala.
He could still see it clearly – Emma in that red dress he'd bought her for their anniversary, hanging off James Whitmore's arm. His boss. His married boss. The announcement had come during dessert: "We're engaged!"
The applause had been deafening. Marcus had sat there, champagne glass frozen halfway to his lips, while Emma looked directly at him and smiled.
He'd left his apartment this morning to avoid the walls closing in. Now he sat on a bench in Central Park, November wind cutting through his cheap jacket, unemployment looming after he'd told Whitmore exactly where he could shove his job.
The phone buzzed in his hand.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
Marcus blinked. The text hovered over his screen, translucent, like some kind of augmented reality filter he hadn't activated.
[Welcome, User Marcus Chen]
[You have been selected for THE INTEREST PROTOCOL]
He looked around. Some kind of prank? But the park was nearly empty – just a jogger disappearing down the path and an old man feeding pigeons.
[TUTORIAL INITIATING]
[Rule 1: Every dollar you spend on SEDUCTION, PLEASURE, or REVENGE will return to you DOUBLED within 24 hours]
[Rule 2: Larger multipliers available for bold actions (max 5x)]
[Rule 3: Cash investments only. No transfers, no bills, no charity]
Marcus laughed – a bitter, hollow sound. "Right. Sure. And I'm supposed to believe this because...?"
[Current Balance: $247.32]
[Suggested First Investment: $47.32]
[Recommended Action: Purchase beverage for attractive stranger within 100 meters]
[Projected Return: $94.64 in 24 hours]
This was insane. He should delete whatever app had hijacked his phone. Except... he hadn't installed anything. And the system was showing his exact bank balance, which should have been impossible.
Marcus stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. He'd humor this delusion for exactly five more minutes, then find the nearest bar and drink away what little money he had left.
He started walking down the path. That's when he saw her.
She sat alone on a bench about fifty feet away, legs crossed, absorbed in a hardcover book. Late twenties, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail, wearing a charcoal blazer over a white blouse. Professional. Put-together. Completely out of his league even on his best day.
[TARGET IDENTIFIED]
[Recommended Investment: $45 - Premium coffee and pastry from café 200m north]
[Confidence Level: 73%]
[Projected Return: $90 in 22 hours]
Marcus stopped walking. The system's text pulsed gently, waiting.
This was ridiculous. He was going to walk up to a complete stranger, buy her coffee with money he desperately needed, based on instructions from a hallucination?
But then he thought about Emma's smile. About the pitying looks from coworkers as he'd walked out of Meridian Tech this morning. About the empty apartment and the unemployment that would eat through his savings in weeks.
What did he have to lose?
The café was small, tucked between two brownstones. He ordered a large vanilla latte and a chocolate croissant – the barista rang it up at $44.50. Close enough.
Walking back to the bench, Marcus felt his heart hammering. The woman was still reading, completely unaware of his approach.
"Excuse me," he said.
She looked up, polite but guarded. Up close, she was even more striking – sharp cheekbones, intelligent dark eyes, lips that quirked slightly at the interruption.
"Hi. This is going to sound strange, but..." Marcus held out the coffee and pastry. "I just bought these and realized I'm not hungry. Would you like them? Seems a shame to waste."
Her eyebrows lifted. "You're giving me coffee?"
"And a croissant. I hear they're good here."
She studied him for a long moment. Marcus forced himself to hold her gaze, to not look like some creep with an agenda even though he technically had an agenda he didn't understand.
"That's... actually really sweet," she said finally, taking the coffee. Her fingers brushed his. "Thank you. I'm Sophie."
"Marcus."
"Well, Marcus, you just saved me from having to put down my book and find caffeine myself." She gestured to the other end of the bench. "You want to sit? I feel weird just taking your coffee and dismissing you."
He sat. The system notification appeared immediately:
[INVESTMENT SUCCESSFUL]
[Return processing: 22 hours, 14 minutes]
[Bonus objective available: Extend conversation 10+ minutes for multiplier increase]
Sophie was watching him with amusement. "You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Long day," Marcus said. "Long week, actually."
"Tell me about it." She took a sip of the latte, made an appreciative sound. "I just got out of a meeting with a client who wanted me to redesign his entire website for 'exposure.' As if my landlord accepts Instagram followers as rent."
Marcus laughed – genuine this time. "What do you do?"
"Freelance graphic design. You?"
"Currently unemployed as of about..." he checked his watch, "six hours ago."
"Oh shit. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I told my boss to fuck himself. He's engaged to my ex-girlfriend now, so." Marcus shrugged. "Seemed like the right call."
Sophie's eyes widened. "Okay, that's actually awful. No wonder you're giving away coffee to strangers – you're having a crisis."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Little bit." She broke off a piece of the croissant, offered it to him. "Here. You paid for it, we can share."
They talked. Sophie was funny, sharp-edged in a way that reminded him she'd probably been hurt before too. She freelanced because corporate life had nearly destroyed her creativity. She'd moved to New York three years ago from Portland. She was reading Murakami.
Time dissolved.
When Sophie finally checked her phone, she made a small sound of surprise. "I've been here for forty minutes. I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago."
"Sorry," Marcus said, though he wasn't.
"Don't be." She stood, gathering her things. Then she pulled out her phone. "Give me your number."
Marcus blinked. "What?"
"Your number. Unless you don't want to get coffee again sometime? Coffee that you actually get to drink?"
He gave her his number, watching her fingers type it in. She smiled – not Emma's calculated smile, but something warm and real.
"Thanks for this, Marcus. I mean it. Today was shit until about forty-five minutes ago."
She walked away, and Marcus sat back on the bench, slightly stunned.
[OBJECTIVE COMPLETE]
[Extended conversation bonus: ACHIEVED]
[Multiplier upgraded: 2.5x]
[Projected return: $111.25 in 21 hours, 47 minutes]
[Additional reward: TARGET INTEREST LEVEL: 68%]
Marcus stared at the notification. If this was real – if he actually woke up tomorrow with an extra hundred dollars in his account – then everything changed.
The system pulsed once more:
[Tutorial complete. Welcome to The Interest Protocol.]
[Your revenge begins now.]
Marcus looked at his phone's reflection in the screen, seeing something in his expression he hadn't seen in months.
Possibility.
He stood up and started walking home. Tomorrow, he'd find out if he was crazy.
Or if he'd just found the way to destroy everyone who'd ever looked down on him.