Ethan's fingers tightened around the folder as his eyes raced over the words again, certain he had misread. But no—the letters were clear, stamped and sealed, official as anything he'd ever seen.
It wasn't a contract.
It was a deed.
A deed for the very same shuttered restaurant he had circled like an idiot not half an hour ago.
He looked up slowly, his brow furrowed. "What… what is this?"
The man—Seth, he had introduced himself with no ceremony—was watching him with a faint frown. "What do you mean, what is this? You can read, can't you? It's the deed. The restaurant's yours now."
Ethan blinked once, twice. "Mine?"
"That's what I said." Seth's voice was flat, unimpressed. "Are you or are you not Ethan Ivers?"
Ethan's mouth opened, then shut again. His head spun. Finally, he fumbled into his wallet, pulling out his battered student ID. He slid it across the table with stiff fingers.
Seth picked it up, glanced at it, and snorted. "Well, there you go. So why the hell are you asking stupid questions? You're the owner now."
"Wait, wait—hold on." Ethan leaned forward, his pulse hammering in his ears. "I never—what do you mean I'm the owner? I never bought anything!"
Seth raised a brow. "Someone called me. Said they were buying the place. I told them I wouldn't sell unless they kept the name. They agreed. Payment came through. They gave me the name of the new owner—Ethan Ivers. That's you. Now you're here signing the papers. Simple."
"Simple?" Ethan nearly choked on the word. "You're telling me someone just—just called you, bought your restaurant, gave my name, and now I own it?!"
Seth shrugged, completely unbothered. "That's about it."
Ethan's brain whirled. His mouth went dry. This—this was the same as with Mary. She had said someone contacted her. Someone had slipped his name into her world too. And now here was Seth, telling him the exact same story.
The system.
It had to be the system.
He pressed his palms against his thighs, trying to steady himself. His voice dropped, cautious. "When… when did they contact you?"
Seth scratched his chin, thinking. "About a month ago."
Ethan froze.
A month ago? That was impossible. He hadn't even drawn his first card back then. He hadn't even had the system.
"They paid already," Seth continued, oblivious to Ethan's inner chaos. "Full price. Clean transfer. All I had to do was wait for you to show up and sign. Though frankly…" His eyes narrowed, amused. "…next time, try signing before you pay, eh? Safer that way."
Ethan stared at him in disbelief. "You—you took the money a month ago. What if I never showed up? What if I never signed?"
Seth's grin was toothy, faintly wolfish. "Then I'd be sitting pretty with cash in my pocket and a restaurant I no longer cared to run. Not my problem."
Ethan's jaw worked soundlessly. His thoughts tumbled over themselves, frantic and dazed. The system paid a month ago? How? How could it possibly know I'd draw this mission? What if I had pulled a different card? What if I had ignored it for months? What if—
He shook his head sharply, as though to clear the spiraling storm.
Seth watched him, amusement flickering in his eyes like a cat batting at a trapped mouse. "You look like you've seen a ghost, kid."
"I…" Ethan swallowed. "I think I might've."
Seth chuckled, the sound deep and rough. "Well, ghost or not, the restaurant's yours. Paperwork's all in order. Just sign here." He tapped the bottom of the page with a thick finger, sliding the pen closer.
Ethan hesitated, the pen cool against his palm. The weight of the moment pressed down on him. This was insane. A joke. He was seventeen. A student. He didn't know the first thing about owning a restaurant.
But the system's glow lingered faintly in his vision. The mission hadn't ended yet.
He inhaled deeply, steadied his hand, and scrawled his name across the line.
Seth plucked the document back, nodding once with satisfaction. "There. Done. Congratulations, kid. You're the proud owner of a rundown restaurant with peeling paint and busted windows."
Ethan winced. "Thanks… I think."
Seth leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Don't thank me. You'll figure out soon enough if this is a blessing or a curse. Either way, you've got yourself a business now. Try not to run it into the ground faster than I did, eh?"
Ethan stood, still dazed, and slung his bag over his shoulder. His legs felt unsteady, his mind even more so. At the door, he paused. "Just one more question. When those people contacted you—no one came in person?"
Seth shook his head. "Nope. All over the phone. Voice was strange, though. Can't remember much of it. Just knew they were serious once the money hit my account."
Ethan's stomach turned. "Right. Of course."
Seth grinned again, his eyes glinting. "Still—gotta say, I like how you do business, kid. Clean. Straightforward. Next time, though, make sure you're not wandering around like a lost puppy before you get to the point. You looked ridiculous out there."
Ethan groaned inwardly, covering his face with a hand. "Yeah. I'll… keep that in mind."
He left the brick house, the night air cool against his heated skin. His mind spun with questions, with fear, with the absurdity of it all. A month ago. The money paid before he even had the system. His name handed to strangers before he even knew it mattered.
He was halfway to the Mercedes when the familiar chime echoed in his head.
[Mission Complete!]
Reward: $50,000 + 10 System Points
New Reward Unlocked: Help Card
A new card shimmered into existence on the edge of his vision, different from the others. Its surface glowed faintly, etched with a golden emblem he didn't recognize.
Ethan stopped dead in the middle of the street, staring at the hovering light.
"Help… card?" he muttered.
Whatever that meant, it didn't sound simple. And nothing the system had given him so far had been simple.