Rex leaned back, trying to process the weight of what he'd just seen.
He exhaled slowly, almost in disbelief. "So it's all the same… just new labels on old blood?"
The system's voice was calm, almost amused. "Old blood doesn't die easily, Rex. It simply adapts. All that talk about wealth ending with the third generation… it's just propaganda."
Rex let out a bitter smile. He used to think he was sharp, sharper than the average man. The kind who could slice through lies, peel back the layers of conspiracy, and see the machine underneath. But right now, he felt no different from the crowds he once pitied… blind, herded, and thinking themselves free.
The system spoke again, this time with a tone that almost sounded… reassuring.
