I stood there for a moment, mind still spinning from everything that had just happened. And then—like a slap to the face—it hit me.
'Oh no. I left the other sports car at Golden Sun Plaza.'
I blinked. Once. Twice. And then slowly raised a hand to my forehead.
'How do you even forget a sports car?'
I stared blankly at the floor, exasperated.
[No need to fret, Cedric. The system will take care of it.]
I looked up, baffled. 'The system's gonna do what now?'
[Your other vehicle is already queued for retrieval. It will be transported to the villa shortly.]
'Of course it is,' I thought, pinching the bridge of my nose. 'Why do I even bother pretending to be responsible?'
[You could always ask the system to manage your life completely.]
I let out a dry laugh. 'And turn myself into a pampered automation? I'll pass. Can you imagine me barking orders at the system all day?'
[You already do.]
That earned another laugh. 'Touché. But still—who forgets a car? That's gotta be a new low.'
[Not really. Just well-supported.]
I gave the ceiling a long look and sighed. 'Great. The car's fine. That's one problem off the list.'
[You're welcome. That car's worth more than most people's yearly salary.]
'Yeah, a gift I casually abandoned like a bag of groceries. Truly iconic.'
Shaking my head, I sank into the nearest seat—only to remember the other pressing matter.
The birthday banquet.
Oliver might've acted like it was no big deal, just a casual thing between friends, but I wasn't buying it.
I knew the kind of people he rolled with—second-generation elites, trust fund heirs, and future boardroom tyrants. This wasn't just a birthday; it was a social unveiling, a chess move by powerful families. And what was I bringing to the party?
Nothing. Not a thing.
'No gift,' I muttered. 'Brilliant. Just brilliant.'
Because in this circle, gifts weren't just polite—they were status symbols. Subtle flexes wrapped in ribbon and gold foil. I wasn't just expected to show up—I had to deliver.
[If you're worried about that, I can help.]
'Help with what?'
[The gift. It's a trivial matter. I can procure something suitable.]
'Like a personal shopper? Great. Just what I needed—AI Amazon.'
[Would you prefer to be giftless at a banquet full of heirs?]
'Fair. Fine. What are we talking—engraved fountain pen? Monogrammed handkerchief?'
[Something unique. Perhaps a rare item. A luxury with layers of meaning.]
I raised an eyebrow. 'Sounds expensive.'
[Not to worry. Consider it another benefit of system support.]
'Fine, fine. But if this goes sideways, I'm blaming you.'
[Understood. Initiating draw.]
I stared as a glowing wheel appeared midair, its contents flickering in and out like a high-end slot machine. Rare gems, enchanted scrolls, paintings, and—was that a baby dragon?
'Please don't land on something cursed or alive,' I thought.
The wheel slowed, shimmered, and landed with a soft chime.
A sleek black box materialized in front of me.
I opened it.
Inside were five keys. Each one different, each one elegant. They looked old—timeless, really—with strange etchings and an aura of purpose I couldn't quite name.
[Congratulations. You've received a mystery-grade gift. These keys are unique—imbued with hidden potential.]
I blinked. 'What... do they open?'
[That's part of the gift's mystique. Their purpose will unfold over time.]
I stared down at them. 'Right. Because nothing says "Happy Birthday" like an existential puzzle box.'
Still, they were... intriguing.
'Maybe Oliver will think it's a metaphor or something,' I thought, slipping them back into the box.
"Mysterious, stylish, possibly cursed… yeah, this screams Young Master Cedric, alright."
With a smirk, I set the box aside.
One mystery gift down. One banquet to survive.
After safely tucking the black box into my bag, I gave the living room one last glance. The quiet hum of Villa Élysée surrounded me like a warm cocoon—but even palaces could get lonely.
I sighed, grabbed my coat, and stepped out into the crisp evening.
The taxi was already waiting by the drive, summoned with a tap from my phone. I wasn't about to drive myself again after everything that happened earlier. One near-accident was enough for the week.
As I slid into the back seat, the driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. Middle-aged, balding, the kind of face you forget five minutes after meeting.
"Where to, sir?" he asked, polite but uninterested.
"South Dormitory District, Valewind Academy," I replied, settling into the seat. "The east entrance."
He gave a nod and pulled away from the curb.
Outside, the twilight blurred the trees into streaks of ink and shadow. Streetlights flickered to life as we wove through the upper city, where everything smelled like money and ambition. Then we crossed the river—where the shine dimmed and real life returned.
I leaned back, head resting against the cool glass window.
The villa felt like a dream already. This cab ride? This was real.
[You know, you could've just used the system's transfer service.]
'I'm not teleporting to my dorm like some sci-fi delinquent. I still have a reputation to maintain.'
[Suit yourself. I just thought you preferred efficiency.]
'I prefer not drawing attention to myself by blinking in and out of existence in public.'
The system fell silent.
The rest of the ride passed in a tired sort of quiet. I watched the world blur past—neon signs, students on electric bikes, the occasional street performer juggling illusions for coin.
Eventually, the cab rolled to a stop near the east gate of Valewind's residential sector.
I paid, stepped out, and exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
The dorm stood tall and familiar ahead of me—brick walls, ivy-covered arches, and the ever-present flicker of soft enchantments lining the path.
Home. Or… at least the version of it I shared with other overly ambitious teenagers.
I adjusted my collar, took another glance at the mysterious gift in my bag, and started walking toward the entrance.
Two days until Oliver's banquet.
Two days until I had to step into that den of lions.
As I stepped out of the taxi and made my way toward the dorm, a thought suddenly hit me like a falling brick.
'Hold on a second... didn't the system say something about teleporting me back earlier?'
I paused, eyes narrowing. 'Wait… is that actually a thing I can do?'
[No.]
I blinked. 'No? That's it? Just—no?'
[Affirmative. You cannot teleport. It is not possible.]
I threw my hands in the air. 'Then why say anything?! You made it sound like I missed out on some futuristic ride-home convenience!'
[It was a hypothetical expression of efficiency. I assumed you'd understand.]
'Right. Because when someone says "you could've teleported," the first thing I'm supposed to think is "oh, that's just a figure of speech." Totally normal.'
[It is, in fact, not normal. That is why it stood out. You remembered it.]
I squinted at nothing in particular, exasperated. 'Are you messing with me right now?'
[Only slightly.]
I groaned and dragged my feet toward the front steps of the building. 'I hailed a cab, got stuck in traffic, and paid for it out of pocket. Meanwhile, you're over here cracking jokes about teleportation.'
[Your resourcefulness is commendable.]
'My patience is running on fumes.'
[Understood. Rest is advised.]
'Yeah, yeah…' I muttered, pulling open the dorm entrance door. 'No teleporting. Got it. Just me and my very grounded, very human legs.'
[For now.]
I stopped and frowned. 'What do you mean, "for now"?'
[Nothing. Please proceed to your room.]
I narrowed my eyes but didn't push it. It was late. I was tired. And somehow, I was already mentally preparing for a birthday banquet with mystery keys and high society games.
At least the system wasn't teleporting me into that yet.
I pushed the door open, still grumbling under my breath about teleportation rights and systems with too much sass, only to be greeted by the familiar sound of voices bouncing off the walls.
"—I'm telling you, there's no way you scored that high without cheating!" Ethan's voice rang out.
James laughed. "Oh, please. Just admit I'm a genius and move on."
Luke chimed in, deadpan as always. "More like a genius at pressing 'C' on every multiple choice."
They were sprawled out like they owned the place—Ethan with one leg dangling off his bed, James half-sitting on his desk with chips in hand, and Luke leaning back against the wall, looking vaguely amused.
The moment I stepped in, all three looked up.
"Hey, hey! Look who's back from his mysterious-boy errands!" James said, tossing a chip into his mouth.
"About time," Ethan added. "We were about to call the police. Thought you'd gotten kidnapped."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Or tripped over your own dramatic flair."
I couldn't help it—I grinned.
'Yeah... this feels good.'
"Missed me that much, huh?" I said, kicking the door closed behind me and setting my bag down.
"Nah," Ethan smirked, "we just need someone to blame when the room inevitably catches fire."
I laughed and tossed a pillow at him. "Well, I'm back. Try not to burn the place down before the weekend."
James clapped his hands. "That's the spirit. Now come on, we're arguing about who's got the worst handwriting. Spoiler alert—it's Ethan."
Ethan threw his hands up. "Mine's artistic. There's a difference."
"Yeah, if by artistic you mean 'illegible ancient rune'," Luke said.
The banter flowed so easily it was like I'd never left. Whatever stress I'd been carrying around—banquet pressure, mysterious keys, system sass—it all melted away, at least for now.
I plopped down beside them, shaking my head with a smirk. 'No teleportation powers, no divine insight… but this? This is enough.'
And for the first time all day, I felt at home.