The news about Valeria Estate hadn't just shaken the campus—it had shattered it. Overnight, Jackim's name was everywhere.
Screenshots of the property registration flooded social media. Memes popped up, jokes turned into admiration, and admiration turned into envy.
"From rags to real estate king."
"He owns a villa bigger than the Chancellor's house."
"Forget Derrick, Jackim's the new legend of Sue City."
Yet while the rest of the campus gossiped, Jackim remained silent. He didn't brag anymore—not openly. His System had already proven its power, and now he understood something deeper: real power was quiet.
One Monday morning, a notice appeared on the university's digital board:
> Sue City University Annual Cultural Night – Featuring The Grand Music Competition
Winner gets $50,000 and a performance contract with Metro Entertainment.
Kelvin whistled when he saw it. "Fifty grand for a song? Man, they're serious this year."
Jackim smiled faintly. "You planning to join?"
Kelvin snorted. "Me? Bro, the only instrument I play is the microwave."
They both laughed, but their laughter faded when Bryan and his entourage passed by.
Bryan, still seething from his previous humiliation, wore a cold grin. "Oh, look who's here—the property king himself. What, you going to sing about your castle next?"
Kelvin bristled, but Jackim only smiled coolly. "Maybe I will. Want to be my backup dancer?"
Laughter erupted around them—except from Bryan, whose eyes darkened.
"Careful, Jackim," he said softly. "Even kings fall when they start to believe they're untouchable."
Jackim didn't answer. The System's faint hum stirred within his mind, as if it too recognized a coming storm.
That evening, Bryan posted something on the campus network:
> "Since everyone worships the so-called 'real estate prodigy,' let's see if he has actual talent. I challenge Jackim Ochieng to join the Grand Music Competition. Let's see if his mouth can brag as well as his bank account."
The post blew up instantly.
Comments exploded—
"Finally, Bryan's fighting back!"
"I bet Jackim won't even show up."
"Nah, he'll buy the judges instead."
"Still, this is going to be epic!"
Kelvin barged into Jackim's dorm later that night, phone in hand. "Bro, you've seen this?"
Jackim looked up from his laptop, unbothered. "Yeah."
"You gonna accept?"
He shrugged. "Why not?"
Kelvin's jaw dropped. "Wait—you can actually sing?"
Jackim smiled. "I don't need to. I just need to brag."
The System immediately responded in his mind:
[New Task: Brag that you're a music genius.]
[Reward: God-Level Piano Skill + Perfect Pitch + Performance Aura Lv.1.]
Jackim chuckled under his breath. "Looks like I'm entering the competition."
The next few days were filled with energy. Rehearsals filled the air, guitars strummed, and pianos echoed through the music hall. Jackim spent his time quietly in the empty auditorium after classes, the moonlight spilling across the grand piano at center stage.
He sat down and touched the keys—smooth, cool, waiting.
[Activating God-Level Piano Skill.]
A rush of knowledge flooded his mind—scales, melodies, harmonies, rhythm, emotion. It was as if centuries of musical mastery were compressed into seconds.
He played a single note. Then another.
The sound that emerged wasn't just music—it was magic. Every key carried emotion: heartbreak, triumph, longing, love, revenge.
Kelvin, who had wandered in quietly, stood frozen in the back.
"Bro…" he whispered. "That doesn't sound like something a student would play. That's… professional level."
Jackim smiled faintly. "No. That's god-level."
The Grand Music Competition filled the Sue City Auditorium to the brim. Thousands of students, professors, sponsors, and even media reporters crowded in. Bright lights flashed, banners waved, and excitement thrummed through the air.
Bryan, dressed in a tailored white suit, performed first. He played a self-written love song, charming the audience with confidence and a full live band behind him.
When he finished, the applause was deafening.
"Bryan's unbeatable!" someone shouted.
"He's already signed with Metro Entertainment, right?"
"This competition's basically his victory lap."
Bryan bowed elegantly and glanced toward the backstage area, smirking. "Your move, Jackim."
When the host called Jackim's name, the crowd murmured.
"He actually came?"
"What could he possibly do? Rap about real estate?"
"Maybe he'll buy the trophy."
Jackim walked onstage wearing a simple black shirt and jeans, no backup band, no fancy instruments—just him and the piano.
As he sat down, the room quieted.
The host leaned forward. "What will you be performing?"
Jackim looked at the audience, eyes calm. "Something from the heart."
He took a deep breath and whispered to himself, "Let's brag properly."
[System Activated: Performance Aura Lv.1]
The first note rang out—soft, trembling, like a heartbeat in the dark.
Then came another. Then another.
Slowly, the melody unfolded, wrapping around the audience like a story.
It was sorrow first—the pain of betrayal, the sting of humiliation, the memory of Sandra's cold words. Then, halfway through, it turned—rising, growing, transforming into strength, defiance, triumph.
The keys thundered like storms, whispered like wind. The music spoke of a man who fell, was laughed at, then rose again, higher than anyone imagined.
Tears glistened in the crowd.
Lina, sitting in the front row, clutched her chest. She didn't understand why her heart was racing—but she couldn't look away.
Even the judges, industry veterans hardened by years of performances, sat frozen.
When the final note echoed and faded, the silence that followed was absolute.
Then came the eruption.
The entire auditorium stood up, applauding wildly.
"Encore!"
"That was divine!"
"I've never heard emotion like that!"
Even Bryan's band members were clapping, dazed.
The judges didn't need to deliberate for long.
"First place," the head judge announced, "goes to Jackim Ochieng—for a performance that transcended music itself."
The crowd roared. Cameras flashed.
Kelvin jumped up, shouting, "THAT'S MY BRO!"
Bryan's expression twisted into disbelief and fury. He had never been humiliated like this—defeated by the same man he had tried to destroy.
Sandra sat in the back, her mascara running as she cried silently. The melody had pierced her heart more painfully than any insult ever could.
When the show ended, reporters swarmed Jackim.
"Mr. Ochieng, that was extraordinary! Who taught you?"
"What was the song's title?"
"Was that about someone in your past?"
Jackim smiled faintly. "No one taught me. I just… bragged that I could."
The reporters laughed, thinking he was joking. But the System's interface flickered before his eyes:
[Task Complete: Brag that you are a music genius.]
[Reward Claimed: God-Level Piano Skill, Perfect Pitch, Performance Aura Lv.1.]
[Bonus Reward: $100,000 + Fame Increase + New Title: 'The Silent Maestro.']
Kelvin nearly tackled him backstage. "Bro! You're trending! The university account just posted your performance—it's already got two hundred thousand views!"
Jackim checked his phone. Sure enough, his inbox was flooded with interview requests, sponsorship offers, and even messages from Metro Entertainment themselves.
He pocketed the phone calmly. "Good. Let them talk."
The System's voice echoed again:
"Host, you are now publicly recognized. Fame attracts wealth—but also danger. Beware of those who watch from the shadows."
Jackim's gaze darkened slightly. He remembered The WHEEL—the name whispered by the System before. A hidden organization that monitored rising figures.
He had felt eyes on him lately. Unseen. Waiting.
As he left the auditorium that night, the air outside was cool, quiet. The moon hung low over Sue City.
From across the street, a black SUV idled with tinted windows. Inside, a man in a suit watched Jackim step out, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
"He's the one," the man said into a phone. "The System user. The boss will want to meet him soon."
Jackim paused mid-step. He didn't look back—but his instincts screamed that something had changed.
He smiled faintly, the corner of his lips curling upward.
"So," he murmured to himself, "the real game begins now."
The night wind carried the faint echo of piano notes behind him—soft, haunting, endless.