The next day, Ethan woke up close to noon.
A strange weakness spread through his body — a kind of soreness he had never experienced before.
The memories of last night didn't come in broken flashes. No… he remembered everything.
He'd seen jokes online that said drunk men couldn't really perform.
Yeah… pure nonsense.
He'd gone seven rounds last night.
The thought made him wince — and feel even weaker — as he turned his head.
Rebecca was still asleep beside him. Her fair, striking features carried the faintest trace of time, but also the distinct allure of a woman who had lived, loved, and conquered.
And those legs… at nearly six feet tall, Rebecca's legs seemed to go on forever. The sight made him dizzy.
His hand brushed against her thigh — still wrapped in sheer black stockings — and his eyes caught on the pair of red-soled Louboutin heels lying next to his pillow.
"Oh… my God…" he muttered.
"What the hell did I do?"
Then, another memory came — his strange "future insight" ability.
He pulled up the mental interface, and sure enough, a mission reward was ready to be claimed.
He tapped to collect. A new item appeared in his inventory: [Unforgettable].
Using it, he felt a subtle shift in his body, like his senses had been sharpened.
Next, he read today's system predictions:
Go to the gas station convenience store and buy a scratch-off ticket — you'll win $2,000.
Rebecca Sanders will wake up in five minutes.
You need to replenish a lot of protein.
Olivia Sanders and Liam Jennings got a hotel room last night, paid for by Liam's online loan.
Liam took too much testosterone booster, and in thirty seconds he'll start insulting Olivia for "having no ambition" and "lacking vision."
Five updates. Ethan's fists clenched.
Two thousand more dollars! At this rate, the scratch-off ticket was basically his emergency income.
And if the intel really refreshed every day… the possibilities were endless.
He had to rack up a hundred million dollars and a luxury home to claim the ultimate reward from the system.
One hundred million is insane… but bit by bit, I can get there.
Hope surged in his chest. For the first time in years, his future didn't feel like a black wall.
But then his stomach dropped.
Rebecca was about to wake up.
Would she think he'd taken advantage of her? She'd drunk a lot last night. What if she had no memory?
Five minutes later, her lashes fluttered and her sharp, narrow eyes opened.
Rebecca blinked at him, confusion flickering in her gaze.
Ethan. Her daughter's college classmate.
Why was he in her bed?
"Aunt Rebecca…" he began carefully, "last night, I saw you in Riverside Park… you'd had too much to drink…"
Her brow furrowed slightly as some fragments returned — the networking event, the endless toasts, the cold walk in the park, inviting Ethan for "just a couple drinks," teasing him about kissing…
After that? Just darkness.
Ethan rushed through the rest of the story, worried she'd call the cops or worse.
But Rebecca just hummed, calm as ever.
"I know."
"Put down my stockings."
She reached for her iPhone, the screen lighting up with dozens of missed calls. The economy was shaky, businesses folding left and right — but Rebecca's companies were still standing, thanks to her sharp instincts and ruthless efficiency. She was already thinking about merging her operations this year.
Ethan hesitated. This was… not the reaction he'd expected from a woman who'd just spent the night with her daughter's classmate.
No breakdown. No accusations. Not even a hint of regret.
When he set her stockings down, he handed her a strip of beef jerky from the minibar.
"Ethan, go to the pharmacy for me," she said, her tone businesslike. "Get a morning-after pill. Make sure you get the right kind."
He nodded, a pang of disappointment tugging at him. It felt like she saw him as a kid — not a man who'd just…
"Oh, and," she added, "these stockings are ripped. Buy me another pair. Wolford, black, sheer. Size medium."
"Yes, Aunt Rebecca."
If she wasn't going to make a scene, that was probably the best outcome. He'd just treat it like a dream.
After he left, Rebecca glanced at the rumpled sheets and smirked faintly. Young men had stamina…
But she had work to do. She opened her messages and began reviewing reports from her executives as if nothing had happened.
Outside the hotel, Ethan spotted a food truck selling breakfast burritos.
"Seven egg-and-cheese burritos," he told the vendor.
The man blinked. "Seven? You sure?"
"Gotta recover," Ethan muttered, already unwrapping one and swallowing half in three bites.
With protein flooding his system, the weakness began to fade.
A quick stop at the pharmacy got him the pill. Then he ducked into a boutique and grabbed a fresh pair of stockings.
Walking back, his mind replayed flashes from last night.
That's Olivia's mother…
A mature woman with legs over a meter long…
And she was with me.
The absurd thought made him almost laugh.
By definition, didn't that make him Olivia's… stepfather?
"I'm… Mr. Sanders now?" he murmured under his breath, shaking his head as he reached the hotel door.
Knocking softly, he said, "Aunt Rebecca, I'm back."
Footsteps in heels clicked toward him, and instantly, his mind filled with the image of those long, pale legs moving under the hem of her dress…