The world had a strange smell at 6 a.m.—stale concrete, burnt coffee, and distant ambition.
Ethan jogged through the narrow streets of the slums, his breath steady, each step a beat in a rhythm of rebirth. The buildings were cracked. Stray dogs darted across the sidewalk. A flickering neon sign buzzed above an old pawn shop.
But he didn't care.
(This isn't my end. It's my opening scene.)
Every breath of cold morning air was a reminder—he was back. Not just physically, but with knowledge far more valuable than any degree. He knew when markets would spike. Which tech would explode. What influencers would rise. Who to avoid, who to befriend, and who to break.
He just had to play it right.
---
Back at home, the apartment was still a box of dust and lost potential. But Ethan didn't lie down. He grabbed his second-hand laptop and cracked open a browser.
Let's build the first seed.
He logged into a freelance platform he remembered from the old timeline—QuickByte. Back then, he'd laughed at people writing $5 blog posts and editing $10 videos. But now?
You don't build the pyramid from the top.
He opened a profile:
ETHAN V.
Pinned : "High-speed content writer | 5+ years experience"
"Fast. Strategic. Results-focused."
He'd write fast and smart, using content he remembered from the future.
He posted three gig offers:
"Blog Posts That Rank (SEO Optimized)"
"Business Strategy Content from a Real Operator"
"Viral Threads for Twitter Growth"
Then he paused.
This isn't about money yet. It's about speed and visibility.
He switched tabs and wrote 10 micro-threads on a blank Notion doc:
"How to Manipulate Perception Without Saying a Word"
"Why 95% of Men Stay Broke (And How to Exit the Loop)"
"The $0-to-$10k Rulebook No One Taught You"
His fingers flew, fueled by caffeine and fury.
"This world rewards illusion—but I bring clarity.
Let's make noise."
---
Later That Day — College Campus
The lecture hall still smelled like carpet glue and cheap cologne. Rows of students stared blankly at a tired professor as he droned about microeconomics.
Ethan sat in the middle row, one leg crossed, notebook open—but he wasn't taking notes.
He was watching.
Liora was there. Two rows ahead. Same perfume. Same hair he once loved to hold. She was laughing with Jason—him. The guy who would swoop in two weeks from now, comfort her after Ethan's third failed job interview, and start dating her like a parasite with gym access.
This is the scene of the crime, he thought bitterly. But I won't play the same part.
Instead of chasing Liora like last time, he would become a man she regretted losing. A man too far ahead to look back.
---
After class, Jason approached him.
"Hey man, you still doing the night shifts at K&G?"
Ethan smiled politely. "For now. But I'm working on something else."
Jason chuckled. "Same, man. Just grinding till we make it, right?"
Fake ambition. Plastic drive. No edge.
"Sure," Ethan said aloud.
You won't even make the shortlist in my world, brother.
---
Evening
Ethan didn't go out. Didn't game. Didn't scroll.
He trained. 45 minutes of pushups, dips between chairs, squats till failure. Then he showered cold and sat down to grind again.
By 10 p.m., he had three messages on QuickByte. Two accepted the blog gig. One asked for a business post in 24 hours. His first income. Not much. But symbolic.
Momentum.
---
He opened his notebook again:
---
DAY 2 SUMMARY
Calories: 1200 (chicken, rice, water)
Training: Full body (intensity: 6/10)
Reading: 30 pages (The Psychology of Money)
Work: 3 gigs landed, 2 active
Action taken: Built Twitter automation script. Set posting schedule.
Mood: Sharper. No mercy for distractions.
---
(They won't see me coming.)
He looked at the mirror, eyes harder than yesterday.
"Outliers aren't born," he said quietly. "They're made in secret. Then they take everything."
He closed the book.
Tomorrow, he'd start looking for a mentor figure he remembered—a mid-level entrepreneur who would become a tech titan five years from now. Back then, he would've been too broke to approach him.
This time?
I'll bring value.
And maybe—just maybe—recruit them before the world does.