As I stepped out of the dormitory, my heart still thudded in my chest from the tension of the assessment. I had tried to calm my nerves, but the uncertainty of what awaited me made it impossible to relax. The system's voice interrupted my thoughts.
[Your assessment location has been set. Please proceed to Le Jardin d'Or.]
I stopped in my tracks.
"Wait, what!?" I muttered, looking around as if the system would suddenly appear. "Le Jardin d'Or? Are you serious?"
Le Jardin d'Or. A seven-star, high-end restaurant that practically screamed luxury. The kind of place where you needed a reservation months in advance just to get a table, and even then, you'd be lucky to get in if you didn't have the right connections.
A place where the food was as expensive as it was exquisite, and the ambiance screamed wealth in every polished detail. I had never stepped foot in a place like that, and frankly, I didn't think I ever would—at least not until I had more money than I could spend.
I had no idea how the system expected me to get there. My wallet was practically empty. I'd been living off cheap meals and the occasional takeout for weeks. My clothes were nicer, yes, but they still weren't fit for a place like Le Jardin d'Or. I could barely imagine myself entering the restaurant, let alone sitting down to eat there.
[Do not worry about transportation and reservation. I will handle that for you.]
The system's words echoed in my mind, and for the first time, I was grateful for its odd interventions. But still, a part of me couldn't shake the unease that settled deep in my stomach. This wasn't just a simple task. It felt like a test—a real-world test where the stakes were higher than I could fathom.
"How the hell am I supposed to act like a noble in a place like that?" I muttered, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. "I'm not ready for this."
But as always, there was no room for doubt. The system had set this up, and there was no turning back now. If I wanted to pass my training and earn the reward, I had to do this—no matter how much it made me sweat with anxiety.
I sighed and started walking, trying to push away the flood of thoughts. My feet carried me in the direction the system had pointed out, though I had no clue how I was going to make this work.
A few moments later, a sleek black car pulled up beside me, the driver's window rolling down smoothly. The driver, a man in a sharp suit, gave me a polite nod.
"Mr. Cedric Ravensleigh?" he asked, his tone respectful yet neutral.
I nodded, my heart sinking further. "That's me."
The man's eyes widened slightly, though he quickly masked his reaction. He seemed momentarily taken aback but quickly regained his composure.
"Right this way, sir," the driver said, gesturing toward the backseat of the car.
I hesitated, uncertainty bubbling up in my chest. But the system's voice filled my mind again.
[The car is part of your arrangement. Your transportation has been provided.]
I swallowed hard and stepped into the backseat, trying to ignore the feeling of my heart hammering against my chest. The car's interior was pristine—sleek black leather seats, a dark wood-panel dashboard, and the soft hum of the engine as it purred to life. It was all too much, too grand for someone like me.
As the car moved smoothly through the streets, I stared out the window, barely noticing the passing scenery. My mind was too focused on the fact that I was heading toward one of the most luxurious places I could imagine.
My friends had no idea where I was going, nor could I ever explain it to them if they asked. How could I?
In less than twenty minutes, the car slowed to a stop in front of a towering, ornate building—Le Jardin d'Or. The valet opened the door for me as the car came to a halt, and I found myself stepping out onto the polished marble entrance, the building's grandiose exterior practically glowing under the soft lights.
A massive golden sign with intricate calligraphy stood above the entrance: Le Jardin d'Or.
I froze for a moment, my nerves nearly overtaking me. This was it. The place that only the richest could afford to visit, where the world of luxury and wealth was both a reality and a distant dream for people like me.
The valet, standing near the entrance, looked at me for a moment, as if evaluating me. Then he stepped forward, his movements smooth and practiced.
"Sir, may I have your name?" he asked, a polite smile on his face.
"Uh, Cedric Ravensleigh," I said, unsure of why he needed to know. I was still too caught up in the grandeur of the place to think much of it.
The valet blinked, his polite demeanor faltering for just a split second. I could see the surprise flash in his eyes, though he quickly masked it.
His gaze flickered between me and a piece of paper in his hand, as if confirming something. For a brief moment, I saw something close to disbelief in his expression.
"Mr. Cedric Ravensleigh…" The valet's voice dropped to a near whisper, and I could tell he was holding back something. "The Royal Suite?" he asked, voice tinged with an awe that he clearly hadn't meant to show.
I froze. The Royal Suite?
I could feel my heart skip a beat. The Royal Suite?
The valet looked at me as though I had just spoken the name of a celebrity. I could see the cogs in his head turning, trying to make sense of the situation. The Royal Suite was reserved for the highest VIPs, like the heads of conglomerates, and the most powerful people in the world.
And here I was—just a college student from a regular dormitory—being ushered toward that very room.
The valet blinked again, his surprise evident but quickly suppressed. He nodded to himself, his professionalism returning.
"Right this way, sir. I'll escort you to your suite," he said, clearly trying to maintain composure.
I didn't have the words to respond. All I could do was follow him, my mind swirling in a haze of disbelief. This couldn't be real, could it? How had this even happened? What did the system get me into?
But there was no time to ponder. The valet led me through the opulent halls of the restaurant, the marble floors gleaming under soft lighting, the scent of fresh flowers in the air. I was being ushered toward something far beyond anything I could have imagined—toward The Royal Suite.
And as I walked, I realized: I wasn't just entering a restaurant anymore. I was stepping into an entirely different world.
As the valet guided me to the Royal Suite, the system's voice rang clear in my mind.
[Your assessment begins now. You must act as you have been trained. The goal is to perform at the standard expected of someone with noble status.]
The system's voice paused for a moment as if to ensure I understood.
[You need to score at least 85% to pass the assessment. If you succeed, you will be rewarded. If you fail, the debt you've accumulated will double.]
The rules were simple, yet daunting. The system had given me just 72 hours to learn the basics of noble etiquette, and now, without any further preparation, I was to put everything into practice. There would be no second chances, and failure wasn't an option.
[Remember, your actions will be evaluated continuously. Every word, every gesture will contribute to your final score.]
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. The grading system felt ridiculously harsh, but it was the reality I had to face. The pressure was immense, and I had no choice but to push forward.
[Good luck, Cedric. You need to pass the test. Act accordingly.]
And with that, the system fell silent, leaving me alone with the task ahead.
As I followed the valet down the hall, my mind still racing with the system's rules and the upcoming assessment, I couldn't help but feel the weight of my situation.
Every step I took seemed to echo in the grandeur of the place, the soft clack of my shoes on the polished marble floor a stark contrast to the buzz of voices in the distance.
As we passed a large reception area, I caught sight of a group of young men around my age standing in front of the desk. They were dressed in well-tailored suits, but their expressions were anything but calm.
One of them, a tall young man with dark hair, was speaking in a raised voice to the receptionist.
"This is outrageous! We booked a private room weeks in advance, and now you're telling us it's been canceled last minute?" His tone was sharp, frustration radiating from his posture.
The receptionist, a middle-aged woman in a neat uniform, tried to remain composed. "I apologize, sir, but due to unforeseen circumstances, we were forced to make changes to the reservations. I can offer you another room, but it may not be to your liking."
The young man looked furious, his friends standing behind him, murmuring among themselves. I could feel the tension in the air, and for a moment, I wondered if I should intervene. But the valet beside me motioned for me to continue walking, so I did, trying to focus on my own situation rather than theirs.
As I moved further away, I overheard one of the other young men mutter, "This is exactly why I hate places like this. Always something going wrong when you're on your last nerve."
The valet glanced at me briefly, perhaps sensing my curiosity, but he said nothing. Instead, he led me through a corridor and toward a set of double doors at the end.
It was then that I realized something—this wasn't just about learning to behave like a noble. This world, this realm of the wealthy and powerful, came with its own set of challenges, dramas, and expectations. I would need more than just a polished exterior to navigate it.
As the doors before me opened, I took one last look at the young men still arguing at the reception desk, their voices fading into the background.
The test had only just begun.