Chapter 99: All-Round System?

[Host is reminded that aesthetic glitches were an unintended side effect of system synchronization. Optional features are priced accordingly.]

’Unintended side effect my ass. That’s like a barista spilling your coffee and charging you for the napkin.’

[Host is being very dramatic. Also, rich people don’t complain about small expenses.]

’Oh, you did

not

just call me cheap, you smug digital parasite.’ I clutched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

’I’m fucking rich! I’ve got nearly a million dollars if I convert all my system points! Don’t you dare imply I’m being stingy, you digital smartass!’

I had nearly a million dollars banked. That wasn’t ego talking—it was raw math. I could walk into any dealership and buy a fleet of luxury cars or fund a hostile corporate takeover if I felt spicy.

But here I was, haggling with my own AI over color swatches like I was arguing with a broke Etsy vendor.

From the front seat, Sarah twisted around, her grin devilish and far too knowing. "Peter! You look like you’re having a full-blown existential meltdown back there."

"I’m fine," I said smoothly, while mentally debating the ethics of digitally slapping a sentient system.

Emma paused her off-key harmony long enough to toss in, "Is it the part where we spend your money? That’s what’s killing you, right?"

Madison met my eyes in the rearview mirror. Her look was a cocktail of amusement and quiet sympathy; the kind you gave someone about to walk into a war zone armed only with a spoon.

"Relax," she said with a crooked smirk. "I’ll protect you from the worst of it. Maybe."

And then it happened—Mom laughed. A full-bodied, joyful laugh that made my chest ache in the best possible way. The woman who’d worked herself sick just to put food on our table... now laughing like she hadn’t had a care in the world since the Clinton administration.

"My son, the reluctant millionaire," she teased, brushing back her hair in the wind. "Most boys your age would be thrilled to take four women shopping."

’Most boys my age aren’t about to start running espionage operations, negotiating with supernatural system, and hiding a seduction system from the women in their lives,’ I thought grimly.

But I didn’t say that.

Instead, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let the wind whip through the car as our chaos-chariot sped down the freeway. I was exhausted. I was outnumbered.

And somehow, for the first time in a long time...

...I was happy.

*

La Cherie

was not a shopping mall. It was a kingdom dressed in marble and chrome, a glittering monument to consumerism, capitalism, and everything my mother had ever dreamed of and pretended she didn’t.

Calling it a mall was like calling Versailles a "nice little house." The damn place sprawled across a square mile, boasting five stories above ground and god knows how many below.

It had glass elevators, rooftop gardens, cascading fountains, and a valet system that looked like it handled more Bentleys than a royal wedding.

As Madison pulled into one of the underground VIP bays, a uniformed attendant opened her car door with the poise of someone trained by a five-star hotel. The moment the girls saw the glowing signage above the elevators—Private Clients & Executive Access—I swear, something primal ignited in them.

Excitement radiated from their bodies like heat off desert sand.

Sarah was practically bouncing in her seat, her manic energy barely contained. "Oh my God, we’re actually here.

La Cherie

. I’ve stalked this place on Instagram since forever. I feel like I just stepped into a K-drama."

Emma, meanwhile, was already snapping photos with the intensity of a war correspondent. "We’re hitting the electronics floor first. I need to build my dream editing suite. Then Sarah’s gear, then Mom’s car—and then we conquer the fashion districts."

Fashion districts

.

Plural. Jesus. Mary. High heels of Saint Prada.

Madison just smiled—smooth, amused, and completely in her element. "Daddy invested and handled the construction, so we have full access to the lounges. They serve champagne, by the way. And truffle fries."

Of fucking course, Daddy did. Of course there were truffle fries. Why not just hand me a gilded shovel so I can dig my own grave in luxury?

As they piled out of the Mercedes like a squad of tactical glam agents, I stayed put, fingers steepled, forehead pressed to the back of the passenger seat. My internal monologue was currently being invaded by a smug supernatural AI that had somehow decided it was also my financial advisor.

"Girls," I said, my voice flat, neutral, almost defeated, "I have to handle some business while you shop. Don’t wait for me."

Silence.

All four women turned in perfect unison, staring at me like I’d just announced I was joining a death cult in Siberia.

Mom squinted, arms crossed, tapping one perfectly painted nail against her hip. "Business?"

That tone. That lethal, surgical ’Mom-tone’ that could cut through lies like a scalpel. I could practically hear the bullshit detector in her head powering up.

"What kind of business, Peter?"

’What kind indeed? The kind where I meet a possibly suicidal billionaire CEO in a high-security suite to talk about hostile takeovers, quantum AI sabotage, and the rising threat of tech conglomerates trying to hijack her global Tech company. You know.

Typical Sunday for a teenager with a seduction system.

No rest for the wicked indeed!

But instead, I smiled. The default rich-boy-smile. Polished. Empty. Just enough teeth to seem harmless.

"Corporate stuff," I said. "Investor meeting. It’s nothing dramatic."

Sarah looked at me like I was on drugs. "Since when do you have

investors

?"

"Since I stopped being poor," I muttered, pushing her out of the car before she could fire off a follow-up question.

I could hear their laughter echoing through the garage—sweet, chaotic, and impossibly feminine. It made something ache inside my chest. Something I hadn’t named yet.

God help me, I loved them. But I needed to be somewhere else right now. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere more dangerous.

Madison’s eyes narrowed slightly, and I could see her enhanced understanding kicking in. She knew I was up to something beyond normal trading, but she wasn’t going to call me out in front of my family.

That subtle flick of her brow, the almost imperceptible shift in her posture—she was alert, calculating, aware.

Thank God for smart girlfriends who know when not to ask questions but just support you.

The girls were nearly vibrating with pre-retail adrenaline, chatting about fashion trends and makeup brands like they were prepping for war.

Mom adjusted her sunglasses with an elegance that made her look like a celebrity being swarmed by paparazzi. Sarah had already opened her notes app to list out target stores, and Emma?

Emma looked like she was about to sprint through the automatic doors like it was Black Friday.

In the middle of that chaos, I leaned back in my seat and mentally pulled up the interface.

’System, make the transaction and connect my accounts. And make the card color grey.’

There was a pleasant, melodic chime in my mind—like a digital bell that somehow made spending ten thousand dollars feel like a casual click.

[DING! Purchase Complete. 150 SP Deducted!]

[All trading accounts and mission rewards now accessible via Unlimited Card.]

I exhaled slowly. That was it. With one decision, I had full control—every cent I’ll earn from trading, every mission payout, every digital dollar now will be funneled into one sleek, card that looked like it belonged to a Bond villain.

No more complicated transfers. No sketchy overseas wire delays. No more red flags at the bank when I suddenly tried to buy a car, a laptop, and half of Tokyo.

[Would Host like a virtual backup copy?]

’Yes. A digital clone? Also lock both of them to biometric verification for only my family and Madison only. Anyone else who tries to use them—well, you know what to do.’

[Confirmed. Biometric-linked activated. Attempted unauthorized usage will trigger instant account lockdown and usage trace protocol.]

’Good.’ The more I tested the system out the more I realize it is more of both a mythical and also an Advanced Tech system. And trust me, both of those were different. I didn’t expect it to have that biometric or family verification, but it did and didn’t even charge me.

"Perhaps it only charges me with things out of its advanced category but mythical capabilities? Like changing a color of a hard copy card that I already have? I will have time to test that out.

The interface faded, replaced by the soft, translucent shimmer of the system HUD retreating into my vision’s periphery. And just like that, I wasn’t just rich. I was

untouchable.

I stepped out of the car like a man preparing for war—not retail warfare, but something much more dangerous. Because while the girls dove into their version of paradise, I had a meeting planned. One that didn’t involve sales racks or boutique lounges.

And somewhere out there, a hot beauty with too many enemies and not enough help and skills was waiting for me to save her.

I glanced once more at Madison, who was helping Mom adjust her scarf. She caught my gaze and nodded, just barely.

She knew.

She always knew.

Time to move.