Catch Me if You Can

Ethan tugged on his university tracksuit, savoring the cool touch of the fabric as he zipped it all the way up. It was one of those moments where something as simple as a well-fitted tracksuit felt like armor.

He smiled faintly at the thought, unaware of the irony that such "armor" would cost him dearly before the day was through.

"Stay sharp, Ethan," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. Today wasn't going to be a leisurely stroll. No, today was about answers—or at least confirmation.

The nagging unease that had plagued him ever since his windfall wasn't going away. That persistent, weighty sensation of being watched, like a silent predator's eyes trained on him, gnawed at his mind.

Was it paranoia? Or was there truly someone—or something—out there, shadowing his every move?

He leaned against the window frame, squinting as the pale morning light seeped through the blinds. The street below was as mundane as it had ever been.

An elderly man shuffled past with his dog; a delivery driver yawned behind the wheel of his van. Perfectly ordinary. And yet, Ethan couldn't shake the suspicion that was hidden among the routine, and someone—or something—waited.

He moved through the living room, glancing at the familiar scene of his younger siblings lounging on the worn-out couch. Jacob, the older of the two, held the remote with all the solemnity of a judge deliberating a case.

Lily, cross-legged beside him, tapped her fingers impatiently on the armrest.

Jacob groaned, "There's nothing on," as he flipped aimlessly through the channels.

"Try something other than cartoons," Lily suggested, though she didn't sound optimistic about the prospects.

Ethan lingered at the door, a faint smile tugging at his lips. They were home for the school break, which meant the house was livelier than usual but also made him more reluctant to leave. With their parents at work, the weight of responsibility settled squarely on his shoulders.

"Jacob," he said casually, "keep an eye on Lily while I'm out, okay?"

Jacob barely looked up, his eyes glued to the screen. "Yeah, yeah," he replied with all the enthusiasm of a sloth being asked to jog.

Ethan chuckled softly. It was so typically Jacob. But he didn't press further. After all, he knew how mind-numbingly dull it could be. He was stuck indoors with nothing but reruns and bickering siblings for company.

His hand was on the door handle when a thought struck him. He paused, the faint creak of the hinges betraying his hesitation. Turning back toward them, he cleared his throat.

"Jacob. Lily," he called, his tone a bit firmer now.

This time, both Jacob and Lily turned their heads, their curiosity piqued by the uncharacteristic weight in Ethan's tone.

"Be extra careful today," he said, trying to sound casual but firm. "And don't open the door for anyone, no matter who they say they are."

Lily's brow furrowed in confusion, her head tilting like a curious puppy. "What do you mean, Ethan? We always do that. You and Mom remind us a hundred times a week."

Ethan chuckled softly, touched by her earnestness. "Yeah, I know, Lily. But today's different. Just… be extra careful, alright?"

He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to say more, then added, "I heard about a robbery nearby. People are getting desperate. I just want you two to play it safe."

Jacob, who had been slouched on the couch, suddenly sat up straighter, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "Yeah… I heard about that, too. Don't worry, Ethan. We'll be careful."

Ethan nodded, the weight on his chest easing slightly. They didn't need to know the full depth of his concern. As long as they stayed alert, he could handle the rest.

Stepping outside into the crisp morning air, he paused to take in the familiar street. It was quiet as usual, but the stillness felt off somehow—too empty, too calculated.

There were a few people scattered about, but each seemed to carry an unspoken tension, like extras in a play waiting for their cue.

Ethan adjusted the strap of his backpack and set off down the sidewalk, his eyes flicking from one face to the next, careful not to linger too long. The sensation of being watched hadn't faded; if anything, it had grown sharper, more insistent.

'Am I just being paranoid?' he wondered, his footsteps quickening almost involuntarily.

This heightened sense of awareness was new to him, a byproduct of the system—and, of course, the money. Once he had gained both, the idea of being a target no longer seemed far-fetched. If anyone knew what he possessed, they'd be relentless.

"I can't afford to be careless," he muttered under his breath, his words barely audible over the thud of his own heartbeat.

A few blocks later, his unease crystallized into certainty. He caught sight of them—two men trailing a little too purposefully. One was tall and wiry, his movements fluid but deliberate.

The other was shorter and broader, with the solid build of someone used to physical work. They were doing their best to blend in, but to Ethan, they might as well have been carrying signs that read, We're following you.

'So, it wasn't all in my head,' he realized, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through him.

He slowed his pace deliberately, pretending to check his phone.

And they did.

From the corner of his eye, he saw them adjust their pace to match.

It was unmistakable now. They weren't just coincidentally heading the same way. They were following him.

Ethan's mind raced, trying to piece together a plan. Should he confront them? Run? Or play along until he could lose them? Whatever he decided, one thing was certain; this wasn't going to be an ordinary morning stroll.

Feeling his pulse quicken, Ethan's mind raced. Confrontation wasn't an option—not here, not with bystanders scattered around who might get caught up in the chaos. He needed a plan, something clever and subtle, to slip away unnoticed.

Without breaking stride, Ethan suddenly shifted into a power walk, just brisk enough to create some distance without raising alarms. He didn't glance back, but he could almost feel the panic ripple through his pursuers.

"What is he doing now?" Mark, the shorter of the two, groaned, already panting. His stocky frame betrayed him, his shirt damp with sweat and clinging uncomfortably.

Zidan, tall and wiry, shot him an incredulous look. "Morning cardio? What kind of kid just decides to jog in the middle of the city?"

Mark snorted and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Sure, it's totally normal to exercise with a stuffed backpack. Think he knows we're onto him?"

"Doubt it," Zidan muttered, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Rich kids do weird stuff. Maybe he's just burning calories from his five-course breakfast."

Mark, now practically wheezing, retorted, "If this is what rich people call fun, I'll stick to my morning coffee and bagel. This is torture."

"Less complaining, more moving," Zidan snapped, trying to mask his own struggle to keep pace. "We can't lose him. He's our ticket to the big leagues."

Meanwhile, Ethan couldn't help but smirk as the sounds of their labored breaths and muttered grumbles began to fade. Subtle, they were not.

Their lack of stealth—and fitness—was glaringly obvious. Still, they were persistent, and Ethan knew he'd have to up his game if he wanted to lose them for good.

Time to see what he was really made of.

Suddenly, Ethan picked up his pace, and his power walk turned into a jog before transforming into a full sprint. His feet pounded the pavement as he darted between pedestrians, threading through the morning bustle with surprising ease.

It was as though his legs had discovered a new gear, one he didn't even know existed.

'Whoa.' Ethan couldn't help the flicker of surprise that flashed through his mind. He had no idea he could run like this. Was this some kind of instinct kicking in? Or maybe all that adrenaline finally found a purpose?

Behind him, chaos erupted.

"WHAT THE—?!" Zidan shouted, his eyes wide as he watched Ethan vanish around a corner with startling speed. "Is he a track star or something? How is he that fast?!"

Mark, red-faced and gasping, waved a hand in despair. "I told you, man! These rich kids are built differently. Nobody normally runs like that—especially not with a backpack!"

"Then why can't we catch a kid?!" Zidan growled, frustration lacing his voice. His long legs were working overtime, but even he knew it was a losing battle.

Mark, slowing to a defeated stagger, panted out, "Because we… are not… track stars! And also, breakfast. I blame breakfast."

Zidan stopped to glare at him, but even his frustration couldn't hide the truth. Ethan had given them the slip—and they both knew it.

Around the next corner, Ethan finally slowed his pace, ducking into an alley. He pressed his back against the wall, catching his breath and fighting the urge to laugh. Whoever those two clumsy people were, they had severely underestimated their quarry.

'Just barely,' Ethan thought, swiping his sleeve across his damp forehead. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as his legs tingled from the sudden exertion.

He couldn't ignore it any longer—his endurance needed serious work. If he'd been forced to run farther or even defend himself, well, the outcome wouldn't have been ideal.

Straightening up, he tried to focus on the task at hand. Earlier that morning, he'd scoured the web, narrowing down property agencies likely to have the kind of sleek, professional office space he envisioned.

The mission demanded efficiency, and Ethan was determined to visit as many properties as possible before the day was out. The sooner he checked this off his list, the sooner he could focus on the other missions.

And oh, what a list it was.

"Increasing status, hiring twenty people, and developing an app," he muttered to himself. He couldn't help but chuckle at its absurdity.

These weren't just any tasks—they were the kind of objectives you'd see in an entrepreneurial memoir, not in the daily life of a university student.

Still, Ethan was optimistic. Those missions, compared to this one, seemed manageable. But they weren't as straightforward as they sounded. He had to set the foundation first, and that started with finding the right office—a symbol of legitimacy and ambition rolled into one.

Walking briskly toward the first agency on his list, Ethan couldn't shake the lingering thought of how close he'd come to being caught that morning.

If it hadn't been for those attribute upgrades, things could have taken a disastrous turn.

Even so, the reality was plain; he wasn't invincible, far from it.

'I need to get stronger,' he resolved, his jaw tightening. 'And quickly.'