Chapter 4
The First Draw
Ethan lay awake for a long time after the strange vision. The glow of the cards still lingered in his memory, sharp and vivid, yet the room had long since returned to its quiet, mundane stillness. The radiator rattled. The single bulb flickered. The night outside stretched on in indifferent silence.
The deck sat motionless on the table.
He stared at it, waiting. Minutes ticked by. His breathing slowed. But nothing happened. The faint shimmer he thought he saw was gone; the cards looked old and ordinary again, as if the strange occurrence had been nothing more than a fever dream.
A shaky laugh escaped him. "I'm losing it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Exams, pressure, Lena… my brain's cracking."
Determined to distract himself, he stood and began cleaning his cramped room. Dust clung to every surface, and he found himself wiping shelves, folding laundry, stacking scattered books into neat piles. The repetitive motions steadied him. The more he worked, the more the strangeness of the evening felt like some hallucination conjured by exhaustion and stress.
When he finally collapsed onto his bed, the clock read past midnight. He didn't remember falling asleep.
The next thing he knew, harsh sunlight stabbed his swollen eye. He blinked, groggy, only to bolt upright when he saw the time.
"Shit!"
He had overslept.
His heart lurched as he scrambled into his uniform, pulling on his blazer while hopping on one foot to fit his shoes. He stuffed books into his worn bag, nearly tearing the strap in his rush. The deck of cards remained on the table, untouched. For a moment he hesitated, glancing at it… then shook his head and ran out the door.
"Just my imagination," he muttered breathlessly, locking the door behind him. "That's all it was."
The city streets were alive with morning bustle. Vendors opened stalls, their voices loud over the clatter of carts. Students in polished uniforms strolled leisurely, chauffeured cars rolled past, and bus stops were crowded with commuters. Ethan darted down the cracked pavement, weaving through the crowd, his bag thumping against his side.
His ribs protested with every step, but he ignored the pain. He couldn't afford to be late. Not now.
As he rounded a corner near the bus station, the sound of shouting stopped him cold.
A small crowd had gathered at the mouth of an alley. Ethan slowed, curiosity warring with urgency. Then he saw what held their attention.
A boy, maybe fourteen, stood cornered by two older men. His clothes were plain, his sneakers scuffed, his face pale with fear. One of the men held the boy's backpack, rifling through it while the other shoved him against the wall.
"Please, give it back!" the boy cried, his voice cracking.
The man sneered. "Shut it, brat. You got money for schoolbooks, you got money for us."
The onlookers did nothing. Some glanced nervously, others whispered, but most turned away, muttering excuses as they hurried on.
Ethan froze. His first instinct was to walk past. He had enough problems already. Intervening meant risk—risk of another beating, risk of being late, risk of consequences he couldn't afford.
But his feet refused to move. His fists clenched at his sides. He saw himself in that boy's desperate eyes.
And then it happened.
The air before him shimmered.
At first he thought it was sunlight catching on glass, but then the shimmer solidified, forming into a translucent screen that hovered inches from his face. Ethan stumbled back, his eyes wide.
Words began to etch themselves across the surface in glowing script.
[Money Deck System – Mission Drawn]
New Mission!
Mission Type: ♣ Clubs → Effort-based Mission (work, physical grind)Mission Rank: [2♣] – Two of Clubs
Objective: Intervene and resolve the injustice.Target: Stop the robbery / protect the victim.
Reward:– Free Card Draw– +5 System Points
Ethan's breath caught. The screen hovered silently, waiting, undeniable. His heart pounded as he read the words again and again.
"This… this can't be real," he whispered. But the letters glowed steady, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
The boy cried out again, shoved harder against the wall. The thieves laughed, tearing pages from one of his books.
Ethan's fists trembled. His mind screamed at him to walk away, to pretend he saw nothing. But the mission floated before his eyes, demanding. The words Resolve the injustice burned in his vision even when he blinked.
And deep down, something stirred.
For years, he had endured humiliation in silence—mockery, cruelty, injustice—and done nothing but swallow it. Now, for the first time, he had the chance to push back.
He tightened his grip on his bag strap.
"All right," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "Let's see where this goes."
He stepped forward.
The crowd gasped as Ethan pushed through, his voice sharp and steady despite the tremor in his chest.
"Leave him alone."
The two men turned, startled. Their eyes swept over Ethan's uniform, then curled in disdain.
"And what's this? A schoolboy hero?" the scarred man sneered. "Get lost before we make you regret it."
Ethan's heart hammered. Fear clawed at his throat. But the glowing mission screen hovered at the edge of his vision, unwavering.
"No," he said, surprising even himself with the firmness in his voice. "Give him his bag back. Now."
The man's grin twisted cruelly. "You've got guts, kid. Let's see if you bleed as easy as you talk."
They lunged.
Ethan's body moved before his mind caught up. He swung his bag hard, the weight of books slamming into the first man's face with a dull thud. The man staggered back, cursing. The second rushed in, grabbing Ethan by the collar, but Ethan drove his knee upward, connecting with the man's gut.
Pain flared in Ethan's ribs, nearly dropping him, but adrenaline kept him upright. The boy scrambled free, clutching his bag, as Ethan shoved the second man against the wall.
The fight was messy, desperate, nothing like the movies. Ethan wasn't trained; he was simply fueled by anger, fear, and something deeper—a strange energy that surged through him, as though the mission itself lent him strength.
The men, caught off guard by his ferocity, cursed and retreated. "Not worth it," one spat, clutching his jaw. "Damn brat."
They fled down the alley, leaving the crowd murmuring in shock.
Ethan stood panting, bruised knuckles throbbing, his chest heaving. He glanced at the boy, who stared at him with wide, grateful eyes.
"Th-thank you," the boy stammered.
Ethan managed a weak nod. "Get home safe."
The boy ran off, clutching his belongings tight.
As the crowd dispersed, Ethan turned—and there it was.
The screen hovered again, brighter this time.
Mission Complete!
Reward:– Free Card Draw [1]– +5 System Points
System Notice: A free draw is now available. Would you like to draw? [Y/N]
Ethan's hands shook. His heart still thundered from the fight, but his eyes were locked on the glowing words.
It was real.
The deck. The blood. The mission.
This wasn't stress. This wasn't his imagination.
The Money Deck System… had awakened.
And it had chosen him.