Perfect—here is **Chapter Two**, capturing Elara's calculated return to the world of power through the Hacker's Allianc
The morning air was cool, tinged with the familiar scent of brewing herbs and rice porridge. Elara sat silently at the kitchen table, her expression unreadable as her mother bustled about, gathering her things for work. The small apartment was quiet save for the occasional clink of a spoon or the soft shuffle of worn shoes on cracked tiles.
Her mother glanced at her for what must've been the fifth time that morning, worry etched into the corners of her eyes.
"Elara… are you sure you're okay? You've been so quiet since yesterday."
Elara forced a soft smile and nodded. "I'm fine, Mama. Really. Just… thinking."
Her mother hesitated but gave her a small, affectionate pat on the shoulder before heading to the door. "I'll be home after the evening shift. Lock the door, okay?"
"I will." She paused, then added, "Be safe."
The door closed behind her, and the moment it did, the softness vanished from Elara's face.
She stood, walked into her room, and shut the door with a decisive click. Then she got to work.
The cheap laptop on her desk looked like a toy, outdated and barely functioning, but Elara's fingers danced over the keyboard with swift familiarity. Within moments, she was inside the deep web, sliding through layers of encryption as though she'd never left. The Hacker's Alliance—the underground digital network where skills were currency and anonymity ruled—welcomed her like an old friend.
Her old alias, *ViridianSmoke*, had long been traced and dismantled in her past life. Now, she needed something new.
*Alias: SeraphNull*
*Bio: No gods. No kings. Just code.*
She smiled faintly and activated the account. Within minutes, she joined encrypted chat rooms, scouted active task boards, and found a list of requests ranging from data extraction to complex algorithm design. She selected a mid-level job—decoding a corporate firewall—and completed it in twelve minutes.
Another pinged. Then another.
Within an hour, she had solved five contracts. Comments started rolling in:
**[BlackC0de]: Who the hell is this SeraphNull?**
**[ZeroFade]: Just got my contract cracked by 'em. Speed's unreal.**
**[DarkPoppy]: I'm watching. This one's gonna rise fast.**
Elara leaned back in her chair, the glow of the screen dancing in her sharp eyes. It had only just begun. Her popularity was already climbing—just like it had in her past life, only this time, she wasn't naïve. She wouldn't trust anyone in this world again.
Once she felt the buzz die down, she shut the laptop and stood. Her face softened as she reached for her coat. She remembered where her mother worked—an old pharmaceutical office with long hours and low pay. Elara didn't plan to interfere, just… to see her. Maybe bring her lunch.
It was a simple desire. But the universe rarely allowed simple things.
---
The building hadn't changed. Dull gray stone, flickering fluorescent lights, and air thick with fatigue. Elara entered quietly, her plastic bag of food in hand, walking down the narrow hallway until she reached the accounting department.
That's when she heard it.
"She still wearing that same coat from last year?" a woman's voice sneered. "God, it's embarrassing. How do you work two jobs and still look like a cleaning lady?"
Another laugh followed. "Don't tell me she's still bringing lunch from home. Smells like boiled leaves."
Elara stopped in her tracks. Her pulse quickened.
They were talking about *her* mother.
Just ahead, she spotted her—small, dignified, hunched slightly over her paperwork. And across from her stood two other employees, both dressed in shiny, cheap knock-offs, plastered smiles stretched wide across their smug faces.
Her mother said nothing. She never did. She simply dipped her head lower and continued writing, her hands trembling slightly.
Elara's vision blurred—not from tears, but fury.
She stepped forward, her voice cold and sharp. "I don't think you know who you're talking about."
The two women turned, confused. One laughed awkwardly. "And who are you?"
"Elara," she said simply, walking to her mother's desk. "Her daughter. And I heard every word."
One of the women scoffed, trying to recover her composure. "Well, maybe if your mother didn't dress like she crawled out of the donation bin—"
Before she could finish, Elara pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped a button. The screen flashed with audio—a crystal-clear recording of their entire conversation, their cruel laughter included.
The women's faces drained of color.
"You're both civil employees, aren't you?" Elara said, voice icy. "You do know workplace harassment is illegal? Would be a shame if this clip made its way to your HR department. Or better yet, social media. People love videos like these."
The smug expressions evaporated. They stumbled over apologies—thin, panicked words—but Elara ignored them.
"Don't speak to her again," she said, wrapping an arm around her stunned mother's shoulders. "Or the next time I come back, I won't be so kind."
She turned and led her mother away from the silent office.
---
They didn't speak for the first five minutes of the walk home. Her mother looked shaken, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Elara," she finally said, her voice low, "what was that?"
Elara didn't respond right away. Instead, she stopped in front of a convenience store. "Wait here a second."
Before her mother could ask why, Elara slipped inside, quickly locating the lottery machine. Her memory from her past life hadn't failed her—the winning numbers from today's local draw had caused a media frenzy the first time around.
She input them carefully, printed the ticket, and returned to her mother.
"What's that?" her mother asked, still reeling from the confrontation.
Elara smiled. "A little bet on fate."
---
That night, as they sat on the couch with the news playing in the background, the lottery segment came up.
"Elara, turn it up," her mother said absently, sipping her tea.
The host read the numbers.
One by one, they matched.
Her mother's cup clattered to the floor.
"Elara…" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Is this… real?"
Elara handed her the ticket. "Two million. Real enough."
Her mother stared at it like it might vanish if she blinked. "How did you…?"
"I told you," Elara said softly, "I'm never letting you suffer again."
Tears welled up in her mother's eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, unable to form words.
Elara didn't cry. But she let herself sit close, holding her mother's hand gently.
She didn't need thanks. She didn't need praise.
This was only the beginning.