Chapter 6
The Missed Draw.
Ethan's finger hovered over the glowing option, the faint pulse of the system screen beckoning him closer. Draw a new card, it urged, each word shimmering with promise and danger alike.
His heart hammered. Everything else—the street, the noise of passing cars, the lingering ache in his ribs—faded to nothing. The system was all he could see. His chance, his mystery, his curse.
And then—
Beep, beep, beep!
The sudden shrill of his phone shattered the moment. Ethan blinked, stumbling back as the glowing interface flickered faintly at the edge of his vision. He fumbled into his blazer pocket, pulling out the cracked phone.
The caller ID made his stomach clench.
Clara.
He pressed the answer button with shaky fingers. "Clara?"
"Ethan! Where the hell are you?" Her voice burst through, urgent and sharp. "The exam's starting now! I tried to save you a seat, but the teacher's already distributing papers—if you don't get here in the next ten minutes, you're out!"
Ethan froze. His blood ran cold. The words hit him like a hammer.
The exam.
He had been so consumed by the impossible screen in front of him, by missions and rewards and cards, that he had lost track of time. He looked up instinctively toward the bus stop, but the truth hit him immediately: he had already missed it.
"No…" he whispered, horror crawling up his spine.
"Ethan!" Clara snapped again, panic in her voice. "Run! If you don't make it—"
But he didn't need her to finish. He ended the call, stuffing the phone into his pocket, his mind whirling.
The glowing system still hovered before him, silent, waiting. His chest tightened. For a heartbeat, he considered pressing it anyway. One draw. One second.
But the weight of reality crashed back down. Exams weren't just numbers at St. Helens—they were survival. One missed paper, one failed subject, and Halstrom would have his excuse to cut him loose.
Gritting his teeth, Ethan forced the system screen away with a desperate gesture. It flickered once, then dissolved into the air like smoke.
He broke into a sprint.
His ribs screamed in protest, each breath ragged, but he didn't stop. At the main road, he waved frantically at an approaching taxi. It slowed, the driver eyeing him warily.
"St. Helens Academy! As fast as you can!" Ethan gasped, fumbling for his wallet. He shoved all the cash he had—his precious lunch money for the week—into the front seat. "This is all I've got—please, just hurry!"
The driver raised a brow but, seeing the desperation in Ethan's face, slammed his foot on the accelerator. The car lurched forward, weaving through the morning traffic. Ethan clutched the seat, his heart pounding louder with every passing second.
Don't let me miss this. Please.
The ride blurred in his memory, a frantic blur of honking horns and screeching turns. By the time they skidded to a halt outside the gates of St. Helens, Ethan was already throwing the door open before the car fully stopped.
He bolted across the courtyard, ignoring the stares of polished students and the whispers that followed him. His blazer flapped behind him, his bag thudding with each step.
By the time he reached the examination hall, his chest burned with fire.
Through the open doors, he saw it: rows of students already bent over their papers, pens scratching steadily. At the front, the teacher was pacing, distributing the last sheets.
And every eye that noticed Ethan carried the same look—mocking, satisfied, waiting for the spectacle.
Adrian Rutherford smirked openly from his desk, his voice pitched just loud enough to carry. "Well, well. The charity case finally decided to grace us with his presence."
A ripple of laughter moved through the room.
Ethan ignored it. He staggered up to the front, bowing his head slightly. "Sir, please. I know I'm late, but—just give me a chance. I can finish. I won't waste your time."
The teacher, a stern man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, eyed him for a long, cold moment. Ethan braced for rejection, for the cruel words that would end everything.
Then the man sighed, shaking his head. "You have one hour, Ivers. No more. Sit down and prove you deserve it."
Relief surged through Ethan like water to parched ground. "Thank you, sir."
He took the paper with trembling hands and hurried to the nearest empty desk. His pen was already uncapped before he sat fully.
The questions loomed before him—dense, unforgiving, the kind designed to break unprepared minds. For a moment, his pulse spiked in panic. He hadn't studied properly in days. His mother's worsening health, his part-time shifts, the sleepless nights—they had left him drained, fogged.
But as the seconds ticked, something within him clicked. His pen moved almost on its own, scrawling answers with sharp, deliberate strokes. Each equation fell into place. Each essay response flowed with clarity. His body might have been battered, but his mind—his mind still burned.
The hour passed in a blur.
When he finally set his pen down, Ethan exhaled deeply, staring at the filled pages before him. A full paper. Not just complete—solid. He knew the answers were good. He knew he had given everything he had left.
But he didn't stand to submit.
Instead, his eyes drifted.
The memory of the glowing screen crept back into his mind. The pulsing letters. The words Draw a new card. It haunted him, more vividly than even the laughter of his classmates or the threat of Halstrom.
His hand clenched around the exam booklet, knuckles white.
And then, without warning, the shimmer returned.
Right there, above his desk.
The translucent interface unfolded silently, the glow faint but unmistakable.
--- [Money Deck System v1.0] ---
Name: Ethan Ivers
Balance: $0
System Points: 5
Cards Available: 1 (Undrawn)
[Next Action]– Draw a new card
Ethan's breath hitched. He stared, eyes wide, as his classmates scribbled around him, oblivious. To them, nothing was happening. But for him, reality itself had shifted again.
It was back.
And this time, it wasn't waiting for blood or coincidence.
It wanted him to choose.