Night had settled over the city like velvet—soft, quiet, and hiding sharp edges beneath. Lin Feng walked alone down the stone path leading from the music hall, his steps slow, his mind anything but.
A notification pinged softly on his phone.
Unknown Number:"You're walking the line between kingmaker and target. Let's talk."
Location:"Red Pavilion. Rooftop lounge. Midnight."
No name. But the message carried weight, like a sealed letter from a kingdom unseen.
The Red Pavilion was one of those exclusive places students whispered about but rarely saw. It was technically off-campus, perched atop a private hotel just outside the elite district—high enough to overlook both the university and the city's gleaming skyline.
When Lin Feng arrived, there was no crowd. No fanfare.
Only a single figure waiting by the glass railing, swirling a glass of amber liquor.
"You're punctual," the man said without turning. He wore a burgundy three-piece suit, his hair slicked back, and his voice carried the effortless arrogance of old power. "That's rare among the new blood."
"And you like theatrics," Lin Feng replied. "Is this the part where you make an offer I'm supposed to fear declining?"
The man turned. He wasn't old—late twenties maybe—but his eyes were cold, calculating. "Name's Shen Ruan. I'm here on behalf of the Crimson Circle."
"I've heard rumors," Lin Feng said, leaning against the railing. "Whispers of a group that moves money faster than any corporation, that makes or breaks futures before the market even blinks."
"They're not rumors," Shen Ruan said. "We're real. And we've been watching."
He took a step closer. "You embarrassed two legacy families in one week. Raised eyebrows in three student factions. And your simulation score? The Circle flagged it before the university even printed it."
"So this is recruitment?" Lin Feng asked.
"No," Shen said. "This is alignment. You have potential. The Circle doesn't need pawns—we need pieces that can check kings."
He handed Lin Feng a crimson card. No writing. No logo. Just a single gold symbol: a circle broken by a dagger.
"If you accept, you'll gain access to networks, intel, and capital. But more importantly—you'll be protected."
"And the cost?"
"Loyalty. And a favor. One day, we'll ask you to tip the scale in a direction we choose."
Lin Feng didn't reply right away. The wind moved his hair, carried city lights in its flow.
Then he flipped the card between his fingers and asked, "What if I say no?"
Shen Ruan smiled faintly. "Then you'd better watch your back, Lin Feng. Because the others? They're not offering cards. They're drawing knives."
[System: Host, I vote we frame that card and hang it in the bathroom as a power move.]
As Lin Feng walked away from the rooftop, the card still in his hand, his mind was already moving.
Not afraid.
Just calculating.
Because whether he joined the Crimson Circle or not… the game had changed.