Mark and Zidan

Ethan stepped out of the Jerai Royale Hotel, the cool evening air brushing against his face. The streets gleamed faintly under the glow of streetlamps, and he paused for a moment, allowing the city's hum to settle over him. In his mind, the words repeated softly. 'A company. My company.'

The deal was finalized. Soon, he would be the majority shareholder of NovaTech Innovations, a name that had come to life over the course of their meeting—half-serious at first, then affirmed with laughter over plates of delicacies that Ethan had once thought reserved for a different world.

He had savored every bite, the richness of the meal matching the significance of the moment. 'Next time,' he thought with quiet resolve, 'I'll bring my family here. Let them share this, too.'

But as he walked away from the hotel's grand doors, a faint unease crept into his thoughts. The duffel bag—heavy with cash just hours ago—was now in David's possession, destined to fund their shared venture and open the company's current account. 

It made sense; it had been the logical choice. Yet its absence tugged at him, as the bag was now replaced by a free bag from the hotel to fill it with documents.

Ethan had taken precautions, of course.

Before handing over the money, he'd sent a message to Charles Weston, ensuring David would be welcomed at Novan Bank with the privileges of a Premier connection.

Charles's reply came almost instantly as if the man was always poised to serve. "Tell him I'll personally handle everything," Charles had written, his efficiency a comfort in moments like this.

Even so, Ethan couldn't entirely shake his wariness. Earlier, when the bag had exchanged hands, he'd met David's gaze and spoken plainly. "I believe in you," he had said, the words carrying a quiet weight. "If you mean what you say, you'll earn far more than this."

David had only chuckled, a deep, knowing laugh that seemed to put the room at ease. "I've seen much more than this, Ethan," he had replied, his confidence unflinching. "But you're right—it's always about the bigger picture. Why settle for crumbs when there's a feast waiting?"

Ethan had laughed with him, the tension melting into camaraderie, yet now, walking through the evening, the exchange lingered in his mind. Trust was a fragile thing, especially in the strange, new reality he inhabited.

He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the familiar weight of his phone. A soft chime reminded him of the notification he had dismissed earlier during the meeting.

=====

[System Notification]

Congratulations! You have leveled up!

Current Level: 2

EXP: 0 / 1000 → 2500 / 3000

Ascension Points: 0 → 10

Attributes Increased:

Strength: +1

Speed: +1

Endurance: +1

Intelligence: +1

Charisma: +1

Free Attribute Points Earned: 10

=====

"Leveled up already? That's interesting," Ethan murmured, one eyebrow arching in mild surprise. 

A flicker of curiosity danced across his face as he reached instinctively for his phone, the pull to confirm irresistible. With a quick swipe and a tap, the familiar glow of his Status Panel illuminated the screen before him.

=====

[Status Panel]

Name: Ethan Cole

Level: 2

EXP: 2500 / 3000

Ascension Points: 10

Wealth: Unlimited

Attributes:

Strength: 5

Speed: 6

Endurance: 5

Intelligence: 16

Charisma: 6

Free Attribute Points: 10

Skills: [None Unlocked]

=====

'Looks like I get +1 to all my attributes every time I level up,' Ethan mused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The thought was oddly satisfying, like finding a hidden advantage in a game.

He paused for a moment, his mind wandering. 'If I started exercising, could I increase these attributes naturally?'

The idea hovered for a moment before he dismissed it with a shrug. Exercising sounded tedious, and what's the whole point of having the system? Why toil when the solution was already at hand?

Still, it was an amusing thought.

The attribute points he earned with each level also intrigued him. They felt like treasures to be spent, tokens of possibility that could shape his future. 'Best to save them for now,' he decided. 'No point in spending them without knowing what's most important.'

It reminded him, strangely enough, of choosing skill trees in video games—a careful balance of strategy and patience.

Lost in his considerations, Ethan was entirely unaware of the eyes fixed on him.

Two figures trailed him at a cautious distance. Mark and Zidan, petty criminals with ambitions far beyond their means, had taken an unhealthy interest in Ethan.

They belonged to a criminal group making waves in Novan City—more for their audacity than their skill. Recently, they'd botched a robbery at an electronics store, clearing out shelves of goods only to find the haul disappointingly small.

But luck, or something like it, had come their way.

Inside the bank, as they schemed their next move, they overheard a conversation between Ethan and Suzanne, the bank teller. Suzanne had inadvertently revealed a detail that sent their hearts racing; Ethan Cole, young and unassuming, had a billion dollars in his account. A billion.

Mark had struggled to wrap his head around the number. "That's… what, a thousand million?" he whispered, as though saying it aloud might break the spell.

Their leader, Lena, had listened with cold calculation when they reported the find. Lena was not one to waste words, but her orders were clear; Follow him. Learn everything. Wait for the right moment.

So here they were, shadowing Ethan down dimly lit streets as he made his way home, utterly oblivious to their presence.

"Yo, Zidan," Mark whispered, keeping his voice low. "You really think this kid has all that money? Look at him. He's just… normal."

Zidan, taller and always eager to assert himself as the brains of the duo, smirked. "Didn't you hear what the teller said? The kid's got a billion bucks, Mark. A billion. Who cares what he looks like? He could be wearing pajamas for all it matters. That account isn't lying."

Mark scratched his head, still unconvinced. "Yeah, but what if it's some kind of mistake? Maybe the bank messed up, and they'll fix it any day now. Doesn't seem right, does it? A kid like him with that much cash?"

Zidan let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly losing patience. "That's why we're following him, genius. We've got his routine down, and when the time comes—boom! We strike."

Mark nodded eagerly, his steps bouncing with energy. "Got it, got it. But, uh… are we sure about this guy? Look where he's heading. That's not exactly the kind of place billionaires hang out."

Zidan rolled his eyes but kept his gaze fixed on Ethan. "That's what makes him so interesting, doesn't it? Once we figure out how he's pulling this off, we'll know exactly how to make him pay."

Ahead of them, Ethan walked on, his thoughts far from the danger at his back. His mind had wandered to his family. How could he break the news to them?

He pictured their faces—his mother's worry, his father's furrowed brow. 'What will they think of all this?' The question loomed large, but no answers came.

Ethan's thoughts churned as he walked toward the apartment building, the words "a company" echoing in his mind like a refrain from a distant song.

He glanced at the peeling paint and the cracked windows of his home—a sight that had long been a constant reminder of his family's struggles. Yet today, it seemed less oppressive, as though his resolve had somehow lightened its weight.

Across the street, however, two pairs of eyes watched the scene with disbelief.

"Hey, Zidan," Mark hissed, nudging his companion. "This can't be right. That dump is where Mr. Billionaire lives? Are we sure we've got the right guy?"

Zidan, equally perplexed, squinted at the building. "Impossible," he muttered. "This place looks like it could fall apart in a strong breeze. Did Suzanne mix up the accounts?"

Mark let out a laugh loud enough to draw a passing glance. "Maybe they paid him in Monopoly money! I mean, c'mon—he's living worse than us!"

Zidan glared at him, rubbing his temples as though warding off a headache. "Use your brain for once, Mark. Some rich folks live modestly to keep a low profile. Ever thought of that?"

Mark smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Well, if that's his plan, he's nailed it. This place is so rundown even rats would be looking for a better deal."

"Enough," Zidan snapped, his tone sharp. "Focus. We're not here to crack jokes. We're here to figure him out. There's something big about this kid, and I intend to find out what it is."

Meanwhile, Ethan climbed the stairs to his apartment, oblivious to the figures trailing him. The familiar smell of his mother's cooking greeted him as he entered, bringing a wave of comfort that softened his nerves.

His mother, Elise, was bustling around the kitchen, stirring a pot with the practiced ease of someone who'd made a thousand meals on a shoestring budget.

His father, Aaron, sat on the couch, the newspaper spread open before him, and his younger siblings were crowded around the old TV, their laughter filling the room.

"Ethan," Elise called over her shoulder, her voice warm. "Perfect timing. Dinner's nearly ready."

Ethan set his bag down by the door, his heart racing. 'This is it.' He took a steadying breath.

"Mom, Dad," he began, stepping forward, "I need to talk to you. It's important."

Aaron folded his newspaper, his brow furrowing with concern. "What's the matter, son?"

Ethan reached into his bag and pulled out the signed documents, his hands steady despite the knot of anxiety in his chest. "I've started a tech company," he said, his voice calm but firm. "With David Turner."

The room went still. For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackling of the stove.

"David Turner?" Elise repeated, turning to face him fully, her spoon hovering midair. "That David Turner?"

Coincidentally, the man's face stared up at them from the front page of the local newspaper on the coffee table.

"Yep," Ethan said, a small, nervous chuckle escaping him. "That David Turner."

Aaron leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "But you're still in university, Ethan. How does this even work?"

"I know," Ethan admitted, stepping closer to hand them the documents. "But it's real. We signed everything today. The company's called NovaTech Innovations, and it's going to change everything for us."

Aaron took the papers, his expression unreadable as he scanned them. When he saw David Turner's signature, his hands trembled slightly. "David Turner… the same man who's always on the news? The charity events? How on earth did you pull this off?"

Ethan met his father's astonished gaze, a glimmer of pride warming him. "Let's just say I got lucky. He needed someone to help with an app project, and I offered to step in. One thing led to another."

Elise came over, peering at the papers over Aaron's shoulder. "And how are you planning to handle this and your studies?" she asked, her voice filled with equal parts concern and admiration. "It's a lot, Ethan."

Ethan nodded, acknowledging her point. "I know it's a lot, Mom. But this is for us—to get us out of here. I can manage."

Aaron's expression softened as he set the papers down, his disbelief giving way to cautious pride. "A tech company," he murmured. "NovaTech Innovations. I never imagined…"

Elise touched Ethan's arm gently. "We're proud of you," she said, her smile warm but tinged with worry. "Just don't overwork yourself, alright?"

"I promise," Ethan replied, relieved to see their support.

Aaron handed the documents back, shaking his head in quiet amazement. "Looks like we've got a businessman in the family now."

Outside, Zidan and Mark remained hidden, their conversation laced with confusion.

"Yo, Zidan," Mark whispered. "This is unreal. A billionaire, sitting down to dinner like he's got nothing to his name. What's his deal?"

Zidan's jaw tightened, his frustration evident. "I don't know, but we're not done yet. Stick to the plan. We need to keep watching."

Mark smirked. "Fine, but if he offers me some of that dinner, I'm not saying no."

Inside, Ethan sat at the table with his family, the warmth of their support soothing his earlier nerves. But as they laughed and talked over dinner, a shadow of unease crept into his thoughts.

Was someone watching him?

He brushed the feeling aside. There was too much at stake to let himself be distracted now.