Izer felt the familiar tingle of humiliation. It wasn't an adrenaline rush, but a bitter itch that started in his chest and climbed up to burn his cheeks. He had known that itch too many times in the past twenty years. It was the sensation of being the extra in everyone else's life, the backdrop.
But this time, it hurt more. This time, the backdrop had faded, leaving only the figure of Kira.
She was only three meters away, sitting at the brightest table in the university cafeteria, her radiant smile directed not at him, but at his replacement: Nylan.
Izer couldn't look away. Three weeks ago, Kira had ended their relationship, citing a lack of "ambition and future vision." A costly euphemism. Now he understood the translation: "You don't have enough money."
Nylan, conversely, overflowed with both. He wore a leather jacket that looked like it cost Izer's annual rent and a watch whose shine competed with the midday light. Nylan had the presence of someone who had never had to worry about their bank balance.
As Izer sipped his reheated coffee, Kira leaned toward Nylan, whispering something that made the boy laugh out loud. As he finished laughing, Nylan looked up, and his eyes met Izer's. Nylan gave him a condescending smile—the kind only the winner gives to the already defeated loser.
The humiliation stung. The itch turned into an intense burn. Izer gripped the coffee cup until his knuckles went white.
In that precise instant, when the bitterness of his failure was at its peak, Izer heard something that did not come from the external world. It was a cold, metallic sound, vibrating directly in his consciousness, followed by a faint blue light that no one else seemed to notice.
[BEEP! The Retribution System has been unlocked.]
[User Status: Izer. Detected Contempt Level: Critical. Cause: Perceived Poverty.]
[Instruction: The System rewards the Social Boomerang Effect. Humiliate those who look down on you by demonstrating financial superiority. Expense Retributed x10.]
[Mission Activated: Ex's Humiliation. Victory Condition: Demonstrate financial superiority over Kira and Nylan.]
Izer blinked. What was that? Stress? A psychotic break? The message flickered in the corner of his vision, like a video game HUD. He ignored it, rubbing his eyes. But the message persisted, and suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pants pocket.
He pulled out the phone. He had received a bank notification:
"Deposit of $100,000.00 USD received."
$100,000.00. Three years of his salary. A banking error?
The system message updated:
[Initial Resource Granted: $100,000.00. Use it for the Mission!]
Izer dropped his coffee cup. The clatter was muffled by the cafeteria chatter, but Izer didn't hear it. He just stared at his phone, and then, slowly, at Kira and Nylan. The heat in his chest was no longer shame, but a chilling, terrible possibility.
The "Vanguard" Boutique
Ten minutes later, Izer stood in front of the window display of Vanguard, the city's luxury clothing boutique—a place he had only ever looked into from the outside. The System was real, and his first act had to be here.
Just as he was about to step inside, a familiar figure approached from behind.
"Izer! Hey, man!"
It was Leifard, his roommate. Leifard was a finance student perpetually looking for an opportunity, with a closet full of knock-off clothing.
"What are you doing here, Izer? Lost? This place is for people in the major leagues, brother." Leifard laughed, but his laugh held a nervous undertone.
Izer felt the System's urgency. If he was going to humiliate Kira, he needed a stage and an audience. Leifard was the perfect audience.
"Leifard," Izer said, noticing his voice sounded deeper, with a commanding tone he had never possessed before. It was the first side effect—a hint of Level 1 Charisma acting upon his tone.
Leifard straightened up. "Yeah, what's up?"
"We're going in. I need a new wardrobe. And you're going to carry my bags."
Leifard stared at him, incredulous. "What? Are you kidding? Who gave you money, some distant uncle?"
Izer simply slid his hand onto Leifard's shoulder. The touch wasn't aggressive, but the effect of Level 1 Charisma intensified. Leifard felt a wave of involuntary respect, a need to please Izer, to be near his newfound aura of power.
"I have an investor, Leifard. And now, let's go. I don't have all day to change my life," Izer said, and he pushed open the heavy glass door.
The interior of Vanguard was minimalist and cold. The only color came from the expensive fabrics and, surprise, surprise: there were Kira and Nylan.
Kira was at a mirror trying on a silk scarf, while Nylan spoke to her with exaggerated gestures. Kira's eyes met Izer's and widened in a gesture of absolute disbelief.
"Izer? What are you doing here?" Her tone was a mix of alarm and contempt.
Nylan turned around. He saw Izer in his worn clothes, and Leifard in his imitation shirt. A dry laugh escaped Nylan. "Relax, Kira. He's probably just looking at the price tags."
[Nylan's Contempt Level: High. Humiliation Condition: Perfect.]
Izer ignored Kira and Nylan. He approached the nearest saleswoman, a tall, intimidating woman.
"Good morning," Izer said, and the Level 1 Charisma acted again. The saleswoman, who was about to ignore him, stopped and looked at him with an almost magnetic attention. His voice was firm, his presence imposing.
"I want everything. Everything on this mannequin. This wall of jeans. The leather jacket section. And everything that guy over there, Nylan, has touched or tried on in the last ten minutes. Put it on my tab."
There was complete silence in the boutique. Leifard choked behind Izer. Kira abruptly pulled off the silk scarf. Nylan turned pale.
"Excuse me, sir, did you say 'everything'?" the saleswoman asked, recovering from the shock.
"Yes. And by the way," Izer approached Nylan and took the most expensive leather jacket Nylan was looking at. Nylan tried to pull it away, but Izer's hand was faster and stronger. "Mr. Nylan, I don't think this color suits you. Besides, I have a rule: I don't like my employees wearing the same clothes as me. I'll take it."
Nylan's face transformed from arrogance to pure rage. "You broke, jobless idiot! Who do you think you are?"
"I'm your customer, Nylan," Izer countered with a predatory smile. "And you are a spectator. A loser in a game you've just started playing."
The purchase was frantic. Izer paid $45,000 USD in one go. The System didn't give him the option to back out. It was pay, or the mission failed.
As the saleswoman swiped the card, Kira approached, her eyes fixed on the terminal screen.
"Izer, where did you get...?"
"Where did I get the money, Kira?" Izer interrupted her, his Level 1 Charisma at maximum. For a moment, Kira felt as small as he had felt in the cafeteria. "You said I lacked ambition. Ambition pays better than you think. You thought Marco was your ticket. You were wrong."
He turned to Nylan, who was being held back by a frightened but fascinated Leifard. "Nylan, I hope you kept the receipts. I just bought all the clothes you thought made you interesting. From now on, when people see you, they'll think of me. You are my cheap reflection."
The receipt printed out. Izer took it and walked out of the store, with Leifard stumbling behind him, loaded down with bags and boxes.
Barely had they crossed the door when the message rang in Izer's head, loud and triumphant:
[Mission Complete! Humiliation successful.]
[Expense: $45,000.00 USD. Reward: $45,000 x 10 = $450,000.00 USD deposited into your bank account.]
[Congratulations! A skill upgrade has been activated.]
[Skill: Charisma (Level 1 -> Level 2). Upgrade: Intention Filter Activated. You can now accurately discern the ambition of people interacting with you.]
Izer stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Instead of feeling immense pleasure, he felt a jolt of cold. He had $450,000. And a new skill.
He turned to Leifard, who was panting, his eyes shining.
"Izer, you're a genius. A genius! This is incredible. Who is your investor? Tell me, please! You have to let me in on this. We can rule this city!"
As Leifard spoke, Izer's Intention Filter activated. He saw a faint aura around Leifard, a mist that pulsed with a single word: Opportunity. Leifard wasn't excited for Izer, but for what Izer could do for him.
Izer felt the first hint of his empty future. He had gained power, but he had just lost his only genuine friend, replacing him with a follower who only saw a dollar sign floating above his head.
"I'll let you in, Leifard," Izer said, his voice now completely confident, but with a shade of coldness that hadn't existed before. "But you have to promise me you will always be honest with me."
Izer's filter screamed a warning. But Leifard, the Opportunity aura flickering, nodded vigorously.
"I promise, Izer! Always!"
Izer smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He had just bought his first follower. The game, the real game, had just begun.