The moon hung high above the city, silver light spilling across towers and glass.
Most of the world slept, but in one district, the night was just beginning.
Music thundered through the walls of a private club, bass rippling beneath neon lights. Inside, laughter and the clink of bottles drowned out reason.
At the center booth, Adam Vale leaned back with a drink in hand. The glow of blue lights caught the sharp lines of his face, the easy smile of a man who thought the world owed him. Around him, his circle of friends cheered, shouted, and poured another round.
He looked like a prince born to noise and luxury — shirt open at the collar, a gold watch catching the light as he lifted his glass.
"Another toast," one of his friends called. "To the good life!"
Adam smirked. "To my life."
The group roared, slamming glasses together. For a moment, everything was noise and smoke.
Then Adam's phone buzzed on the table, cutting through the chaos. He frowned, checking the screen, and waved for the music near their booth to lower.
"Yeah?" he said into the phone, his tone half-bored.
A voice answered, rough and professional.
"We've found them, sir. Ethan Iver's family — mother and younger sister. They've been staying at a small hotel near downtown for a week. Still no sign of him."
Adam's lips curved. He tapped a finger on the table, considering.
"Keep watch," he said after a pause. "Don't approach yet. If he shows up, I want to know first."
"Understood."
He ended the call and dropped the phone back on the table, eyes glittering with amusement.
"Well, looks like our little scholarship hero finally has a trail," he said. His friends looked confused, but none of them asked. Adam rarely explained himself.
He turned toward the dancer on the small stage beside him, his smile returning — the smile of a man who never thought about consequences. "Come on," he said lazily, "you're wasting all that energy standing there. Join me."
The woman laughed softly and took his hand. The crowd cheered again, the night sliding back into noise and lights.
The Next Morning
The sun rose quietly over Hills Estate, spilling gold across the villa's glass façade. The world looked peaceful — almost too peaceful compared to the chaos of the night before.
Ethan had been awake for hours.
He'd already driven Faye to the hospital for her check-up. The doctors had been discreet; they knew money when they saw it. He'd waited in the lobby, hands in his pockets, until the results came back: bruises, exhaustion, stress — nothing permanent.
When she came out, she looked lighter, a little color returning to her face.
"Thank you," she said softly as they walked toward the car.
Ethan gave a small smile. "Just get some rest. That's thanks enough."
He dropped her near the same café district she had come from. "Call if anything happens," he told her before driving off.
She watched the car disappear into the traffic, a strange mix of relief and worry tightening in her chest.
Ethan's next stop was Seth's Kitchen — the restaurant the system had given him weeks ago.
He parked at the curb, stepped out, and took in the sight.
The place sat between two taller buildings, its old sign half-faded, windows dusty but intact. The architecture was simple, clean lines with just enough charm to draw attention.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The scent of stale air greeted him — wood, dust, and the faint trace of what once had been coffee. Tables were stacked against the wall, and a line of chairs leaned like tired soldiers waiting to be called back to duty.
Still, the bones were good. He could see it immediately. The kitchen area was wide, built for efficiency, the counters worn but solid. A restaurant that had once mattered.
"Not too high-end," Ethan murmured, running a hand along a counter. "But not cheap either. Just right."
He could almost see it — clean walls, polished floors, lights glowing softly against the evening.
Maybe his mother managing the place, Anna helping after school.
A future that didn't depend on luck or power.
He pulled out his phone and began searching for renovation contractors, scrolling through reviews and portfolios. Within an hour, he had three appointments lined up to inspect the property.
The system's mission text hovered faintly in his vision:
[Active Mission – Club of 6]
Objective: Repair and reopen Seth's Kitchen within 7 days.
Reward: 20 System Points, 2 Rare Consumables, 1 Rare Draw Card, $50,000.
He smiled slightly. "Seven days, huh? Let's make it six."
For the next hour, he walked through every corner, taking notes, measuring, planning. By the time he locked the door again, the sun was fully up and the street alive with movement.
Things were beginning to change.
For once, it felt like progress.
Elsewhere – Vale Tower
The curtains were still drawn when Adam Vale woke.
The sunlight barely touched the room, thick with the scent of expensive alcohol and last night's perfume.
He blinked, groaned, and pushed himself up. A woman lay beside him, asleep, hair spilling across the pillow.
For a moment, he didn't even remember her name. It didn't matter.
His phone buzzed again — a different tone this time. Family line.
He frowned, picked it up, and saw the caller ID.
Father.
The haze of sleep vanished. He answered immediately.
"Yes, sir."
"Adam." The older voice was calm but heavy. "We need to talk. Come to the office. Now."
Adam glanced at the woman beside him, then back at the window. The city looked too bright for his mood.
"Right now?"
"Yes. Right now."
The line went dead.
Adam sighed, raking a hand through his hair. The sound of traffic drifted faintly through the glass.
He muttered, "Guess the fun's over."
He stood, pulling on his shirt and jacket, his reflection flashing in the mirror — handsome, sharp, and just a little too confident.
Whatever his father wanted, it wouldn't be good news.
But Adam Vale had never been afraid of consequences.
With a smirk, he picked up his keys and walked out, leaving the quiet room and the sleeping woman behind.