The morning sun was too bright.
Too honest.
Nox stood by the cracked mirror, tightening the only collared shirt he owned — a faded white polo that had survived three years of college presentations. His hands trembled as he buttoned it up. It wasn't nervousness, not yet. It was hunger.
His stomach clenched, empty since last night's glass of tap water.
Still, he forced a smile at his reflection. "You're not poor," he muttered. "You're… under development."
He chuckled dryly, grabbed his phone, and stared at the message again.
Message> Emma Agunza: 9:00 a.m. sharp. Don't be late. Bring any proof of your qualification.
His lips twitched. "Proof, huh…"
The only proof he had was sitting in his head — an entire Calculus textbook burned into his brain by Copy Record and reinforced through the Mind Realm.
He slung his cheap shoulder bag over one arm and left the apartment quietly, not wanting to wake Cha and the others.
Outside, the humid Cebu air greeted him like a wall.
He checked his balance: ₱30. Enough for one jeepney ride, maybe two if he walked halfway.
So he walked.
---
By the time he reached the uptown district, his feet burned, and his breath was shallow. The city's colors changed gradually — cracked sidewalks turned into polished pavement; faded tricycle shouts turned into the quiet hum of luxury cars.
He glanced up. The Agunza Residence loomed ahead.
Tall iron gates, gold-tipped spikes, and a driveway paved with stone instead of concrete. Two uniformed guards stood watch.
He paused before the gate, suddenly aware of the dirt on his shoes. His reflection stared back at him from the glossy metal — pale, exhausted, but eyes alive.
"Interview for Miss Emma Agunza," he said to the guard.
They exchanged looks, scanning him from head to toe — maybe wondering if a stray had lost his way into a rich neighborhood.
One of them pressed a button.
The gates opened with a slow, mechanical hum.
Inside, the world shifted again.
Marble tiles. Trimmed gardens. The scent of imported coffee in the air.
He swallowed hard, forcing his back straight. Don't show weakness.
---
A housekeeper led him to a small study room. Everything gleamed — glass shelves of law books, expensive art, even the air smelled expensive.
Then she entered.
Emma Agunza.
Mid-40s, elegant, sharp. Her black hair tied in a tight bun, her eyes like polished onyx — calm but always judging. She carried a laptop under one arm and a phone in the other, like extensions of her authority.
"Nox Ando?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She nodded once and gestured for him to sit — not kindly, just efficiently.
"You're young," she said, adjusting her glasses. "And you look… unprepared."
He kept his expression neutral. "I came straight from another client," he lied smoothly.
Her lips curved in something that might've been amusement. "Hm. I see."
She opened her laptop. "Let's not waste time. My daughter, Anna, is an Engineering sophomore. She's failing Calculus II. You claim to guarantee mastery. Prove it."
Without another word, she typed quickly and turned the screen to him.
Three equations filled the screen — partial derivatives, integrals with trigonometric substitutions, and an optimization problem.
"These are from her last quiz. Solve them. You have ten minutes."
---
Nox stared at the screen.
The symbols were beautiful — elegant in their complexity.
His mind shifted gears effortlessly. The Mind Realm flickered faintly behind his eyes, overlaying his mental landscape with glowing formulas.
He didn't even need a pen.
He reached for the small whiteboard beside him, borrowing a marker. The calculations flowed naturally — step by step, clean and precise. Within four minutes, all three problems were done.
He capped the marker and stepped back. "Done."
Emma glanced up from her phone, one eyebrow arching. "Already?"
He nodded once.
She checked the solutions silently. Her brows twitched once, then settled again. "Correct. All of them."
Her gaze lifted, colder now — not out of anger, but disbelief. "So you memorized the answers from somewhere?"
"No," he said simply. "I memorized the logic."
Something in his tone made her pause.
But the silence stretched too long, and he could feel the distance between their worlds pressing in again — her perfume, the polished marble, the way she crossed her legs like time itself bowed for her.
He needed an edge.
Something beyond intellect.
---
The Eye of Truth
He took a slow breath and whispered in his mind.
> Activate: Eye of Truth.
The air shimmered faintly.
A golden circle spun faintly in his pupils as her stats began to form.
> Emma Agunza
INT: 8.5 | WIS: 3.2 | CHA: 7.0
Status: Overworked Success
Core Conflict: Guilt and Fear of Failure
Emotional State: Stress (72%), Maternal Anxiety (High)
The room brightened slightly, as if the truth itself had weight.
He watched her posture — the rigid spine, the tapping fingers, the faint sigh between sentences.
This wasn't just a woman protecting her wealth. This was a mother drowning in self-blame.
So that's it.
He looked away quickly before she noticed the faint glow in his eyes fading.
---
"Miss Agunza," he said carefully, "Anna isn't struggling because of lack of intelligence. She's struggling because she doesn't believe she can meet your expectations."
Emma froze.
Her fingers stopped tapping.
He continued, voice calm, confident — but never accusing. "You've set the bar high. That's good. But she's studying under pressure, not curiosity. That kills comprehension. If I'm to help her, I'll need her to learn from wanting to improve, not fearing you."
The silence stretched.
Emma's eyes softened — barely, but he noticed.
"How do you know that?" she asked quietly. "You've never met her."
He smiled faintly. "I've met a lot of students like her."
She studied him again. The calculation behind her gaze changed — from suspicion to cautious respect.
He pressed on. "If you hire me, I'll send weekly reports — not just grades, but her mindset. And if she stops trying, I'll tell you directly. No sugarcoating."
Her lips parted slightly. That wasn't what she expected to hear.
---
Finally, Emma exhaled and leaned back in her chair. "You speak with confidence for someone so… young."
He smiled politely. "Confidence is free, ma'am. I can afford that."
For the first time, she laughed — a small, dry sound that still echoed warmly. "Very well, Mr. Ando. Let's make it official."
She opened a folder from her desk and slid it across the table.
> Hourly Rate: ₱800
Schedule: 3 sessions per week, 2 hours each
Advance Payment: 1 week upon start
His eyes widened slightly — that was ₱4,800 a week.
More than he'd ever made in a month.
He nodded, forcing himself not to show how his heart hammered in his chest. "That's acceptable."
She extended her hand. "Then it's settled."
He shook it firmly, her skin cool and soft, but her grip commanding.
---
As soon as their hands parted, the System flickered into existence.
> [Quest: Fund the Future — Completed]
Rewards Unlocked:
+0.1 INT
+1 Skill Upgrade Point
New Quest Available: [Tutor of Shadows] — Maintain Anna's Academic Recovery for 4 Weeks.
Nox almost smiled but masked it with a calm nod.
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll begin tomorrow."
She gave a curt nod. "My driver will fetch you. Don't be late."
"Yes, ma'am."
As he stood to leave, she spoke again — softer this time. "Mr. Ando…"
He turned.
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
He met her eyes, calm and certain. "I never do."
---
The sun was setting by the time he stepped out of the mansion. The gates closed behind him with a metallic sigh.
He reached into his pocket and felt the crisp ₱1,000 advance folded neatly there.
His legs almost gave out from exhaustion, but his chest burned with quiet triumph.
He had done it.
He had stepped into the world of the rich and walked out earning.
The hunger was still there, gnawing faintly — but it didn't matter.
Because for the first time, he felt something heavier than hunger.
Hope.