Monday morning came sharp and cold, but Victor was already moving.
Pushups. Squats. Plank. Hydration.
The soreness had faded into rhythm now. His body moved like it was learning a new language — one made of sweat, breath, and will.
"Day 6," the System said. "Theme: Integrity under pressure."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "Why does that sound like trouble's coming?"
"Because it usually is."
---
After breakfast, Victor pinned two more tutoring flyers across campus — one in the cafeteria and another in the engineering building. Before he'd even returned to his dorm, a message landed in his inbox.
> Subject: Tutoring Inquiry
Hey Victor, I saw your flyer. I'm struggling with a 5-page essay due Friday. Can we meet today?
Victor grinned. His first client.
> Victor: Sure. Meet at the library by 4:00 p.m.?
> Student: Perfect. Name's Ryan, by the way.
---
The rest of the day flew by. Constitutional Law lecture. A quick call home. Then two hours reviewing Benny's vocals for their collab.
By 3:45 p.m., he was at the library, early and nervous. This wasn't music or workouts or even class. This was business.
Ryan showed up wearing a Harvard hoodie and Beats headphones around his neck. Blonde. Fresh-cut. Smelled like cologne and confidence.
"Yo, you Victor?"
"That's me."
They sat by the window, Ryan pulling out a crumpled draft.
"I need help making this sound smart. Professor said it lacks… depth or whatever."
Victor skimmed the opening paragraph. "It's not bad. You've got ideas. Just needs structure and stronger analysis."
Ryan leaned back. "Man, if you can fix this, I'll tell everyone about you. Swear."
Victor smiled. "Deal."
They spent 45 minutes reworking the thesis and polishing the arguments. Victor guided, explained, rewrote one paragraph as an example.
Ryan looked impressed.
"This is fire, bro. How much?"
Victor hesitated. "Ten dollars per session?"
Ryan blinked. "That's too cheap. I'm paying twenty."
Victor laughed. "You sure?"
"You're saving my GPA, man."
They shook hands.
As Ryan left, another notification popped up.
> New Referral:
Hey, I'm friends with Ryan. Can you help with my history paper too?
Victor stared at the screen, stunned.
Then he whispered, "It's working."
The System chimed in. "Income stream stabilized. Early reputation gain: Accelerated."
Victor leaned back, heart full. This wasn't just side hustle anymore.
It was proof.
---
That evening, Victor passed by the common room on his way back from dinner. Music thumped low from a speaker in the corner. A few guys were lounging — laughing, gaming, scrolling phones.
One of them waved him over.
"Yo! Nigerian guy — Vee Blaze, right?"
Victor turned. "Yeah?"
"Your rap the other night was cold, man," the guy said. "Name's Darius."
They shook hands. Darius wore a designer hoodie and a diamond earring that sparkled under the fluorescent light.
"You trying to make real money out here?" Darius asked casually.
Victor paused. "Doing tutoring. A bit of music on the side."
Darius smirked. "That's good. But slow. I'm talking fast cash."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "Doing what?"
Darius leaned in. "Homework services. International students. Athletes. Lazy rich kids. They pay hundreds for essays. Math problems. Take-home tests."
Victor blinked. "You mean… doing their work for them?"
"Technically, helping them understand the work," Darius said with a wink.
Victor didn't laugh.
Darius shrugged. "Look, I ain't judging. I paid my rent last semester with this. You're smart. You'd kill it."
Victor hesitated.
Quick money. No waiting. No flyers.
He thought about Ijeoma. About Mama's next prayer request. About how long it would take to save with ten-dollar tutoring sessions.
The System spoke.
"Warning: Ethical violation detected. Risk to academic standing: High. Long-term consequence: Severe."
Darius saw him pause. "Just think about it. If you change your mind, text me."
He handed Victor a card — gold print on black. Just a number. No name.
Victor pocketed it without a word and walked out.
---
Back in his room, Victor sat on his bed, staring at the card.
"Why is the wrong thing always so easy?" he muttered.
"Because ease is the weapon of shortcuts," the System replied.
He didn't answer.
He picked up his phone and scrolled to the photo Benny sent earlier — a screenshot of their track's waveform in her audio software.
> Benny: Almost done mixing! You killed your verse 🔥
> Victor: You too. Can't wait to hear the full thing.
She replied with a heart emoji.
He smiled. But his thumb brushed against the card again.
That gold print.
That temptation.
That choice.
---
Later, he called his mom. She picked up with static in the background.
"Victor, my son!"
"Mama, good evening. How are you?"
"We thank God. Ijeoma got her books. She's reading as I speak."
Victor smiled. "Good. That makes me happy."
"And you? You're okay over there?"
He paused.
"I'm… I'm finding my way."
"Good," she said. "Just follow the right path, even if it's the harder one."
Victor blinked. "What did you say?"
"I said — follow the right path. The hard one. The honest one. That's the one that lasts."
She didn't know.
She couldn't know.
But somehow, she always did.
---
That night, Victor stood by the dorm trash can and stared at the gold-printed card one last time.
Then dropped it in.
He didn't even flinch.
---
Back in bed, he opened his notebook and wrote at the top of a clean page:
Chapter 2 — Building the Right Way
Then, underneath:
The wrong path is always paved smoother. But smooth roads rarely lead to real places.
The System spoke softly.
"Integrity preserved. Resilience reinforced."
Victor nodded.
This wasn't about fast money.
This was about lasting value.
And he wasn't building a shortcut.
He was building a legacy.