Hours later, the exam was over. The shadows had lengthened across the sprawling campus of St. Helens, the golden light of dusk painting the ancient stone buildings in hues of amber and blood-red. Students poured out in small groups, their laughter loud, their footsteps light—children of wealth who carried no weight heavier than their textbooks, no fear sharper than a disappointing grade their families' money could smooth over.
Ethan walked alone.
Most days he would head straight for his small apartment on the far side of town, a cramped space he shared with silence and the bills that stacked higher each week. But exhaustion pressed against his shoulders like an iron cloak, and the long walk across the city felt unbearable. Instead, he turned toward the dormitories—grand halls reserved for students whose families had "donated generously" to the academy, yet where a handful of scholarship students were grudgingly allowed.
The dormitory's front doors swung open with a polished creak, the warm glow of chandeliers spilling into the evening air. Ethan slipped inside, climbing the marble steps to the third floor. His room sat at the end of the corridor, brass numberplate gleaming: 3C.
He pushed the door open.
The room was wide and well-furnished compared to his apartment, with four beds, four desks, and wardrobes lining the walls. Despite the academy's attempts at uniformity, wealth had a way of marking territory—two of his roommates had decorated their spaces with imported rugs, sleek speakers, and shelves lined with gadgets. The third, the richest among them, had gone further, filling his side with designer furniture and framed photos of vacations in Europe. Ethan's corner was stark by comparison: a thin blanket folded neatly, a stack of secondhand books, a single lamp with a cracked shade.
As Ethan stepped inside, two of his roommates were already heading out, dressed in casual blazers and expensive shoes. They were from well-off families, not heirs of empires but children of steady wealth. They glanced at him as he entered, and one of them—Marcus, with neatly combed blond hair—paused at the door.
"Hey, Ethan," Marcus said, adjusting the cufflinks at his wrist. "We're heading out. You coming?"
Ethan blinked. "Where to?"
"Lunch," Marcus replied with an easy grin. "Oliver's treating. You know how he is after exams—big gestures. He booked a table at Le Rive."
At the mention of Oliver, Ethan's stomach tightened. Their fourth roommate. Son of a family whose name was stamped on half the academy's buildings. Arrogant, smug, and utterly convinced of his superiority. Oliver had extended this invitation not out of camaraderie, Ethan knew, but out of vanity. To show off. To sneer at Ethan's discomfort when the bill arrived, to remind him of the gulf between their worlds.
Ethan shook his head. "I'll pass."
Marcus shrugged, as though he'd expected that answer. The other roommate, Daniel, smirked faintly. "Suit yourself. Don't study too hard, yeah? Might turn into a book."
They left, laughter echoing down the corridor. The door swung shut, and silence fell.
Ethan exhaled slowly, setting his satchel on the floor. He could already imagine the scene at the restaurant: Oliver boasting about wine pairings he barely understood, Daniel and Marcus nodding along, and himself sitting stiff and out of place while every glance across the table reminded him of the invisible chains around his neck.
Better to stay here. Alone.
He sat heavily on his bed, staring at the blank wall across from him. For hours he had resisted, burying himself in exam notes and routine. But now, in the stillness of the dorm, there was no shield left.
The system pulsed awake.
[New Mission Available]
Ethan's breath caught. He hesitated, his thumb hovering in the air. He could still ignore it. Pretend it wasn't there. But the memory of the glowing ♦ Diamond gnawed at him, a hook in his mind.
Finally, he gave in.
"Show me," he whispered.
The air shimmered. Cards appeared, floating before him like phantoms. One burned brighter than the rest: the Two of Diamonds. Letters carved themselves across its surface in golden fire.
[Mission Type: ♦ Diamond → Money-based missions (earn, trade).][Mission Rank: 2 – Two of Diamonds.][Bonus Mission: Locked.]
Then the details formed.
[Objective: Check in tonight with a suit in front of Twilight Hotel in downtown.][Reward: 5 System Points + $10,000.][Failure Penalty: Host death. Family debt will increase.]
Ethan's blood ran cold.
He stared at the words, unblinking, as though they might change if he glared hard enough. But they remained, glowing mercilessly in the darkened dorm.
"Death…" he breathed. His pulse thundered in his ears.
It wasn't just his life on the line. The words "family debt" carved deeper than any knife. His mother, already crushed beneath bills. His younger sister, still in school, still depending on him. If he failed this mission, the system wouldn't just punish him—it would chain them even tighter to suffering.
Ethan's hands trembled. "What the hell… what the hell is this?"
He thought back to the moment he had tapped the diamond, the fleeting thrill of possibility. Wealth, opportunity. He had thought it was a chance. Now it looked like a noose.
He regretted it. For the first time since the system appeared, Ethan wished he had never touched it.
A suit. Twilight Hotel. Downtown. Tonight.
His gaze fell on his wardrobe—on the handful of plain shirts, one pair of slacks, his scuffed shoes. Nothing even close to a suit. Even if he wanted to attempt the mission, he had no way of meeting the requirement. He didn't have money, didn't have time.
Panic clawed at his chest.
"How the hell am I supposed to do this?" he whispered.
As if answering, a new prompt shimmered before him.
[Exchange Available: Convert 1 System Point → $100,000.]
Ethan froze. His breath caught in his throat as the numbers blazed in golden text.
One point. One hundred thousand dollars.
It was salvation and temptation wrapped into a single line. Enough money to buy a dozen suits, pay his mother's bills, cover his sister's tuition, even save himself from the crushing weight of poverty.
But it was too clean. Too easy. And Ethan had already learned one truth about the system: nothing came without a cost.
He stared at the glowing prompt, his reflection caught in the glassy surface of the phantom card. For the first time, he felt the true danger of the system—not just the missions, but the choices it dangled in front of him.
Was it really salvation… or a trap waiting to snap shut?
The words pulsed again, patient and silent.
[Exchange? Y/N]
Ethan's throat tightened. He clenched his fists, shutting his eyes.
And for the first time, he wondered if the diamond he had chosen wasn't a promise of wealth at all——but a deal with the devil.