The icy wind cut through Ethan Cross's thin delivery jacket as he balanced two paper bags of overpriced sushi, the steam from the food taunting his empty stomach. The streets of Manhattan glittered with holiday lights, but to Ethan, they were just another reminder of how much this city worshiped wealth — and how far from it he was.
The Aurelius towered above him, a glass and steel monument to excess. Penthouse delivery — the tip would either be generous or humiliating. Experience told him it would be the latter.
He rode the elevator in silence, feeling the weight of the bags in his hands. Fifty-second floor. When the doors slid open, bass-heavy music spilled into the hallway. The air smelled like expensive perfume and champagne.
A man in a tailored white suit opened the door. Tall, bleach-blond, with a smug smirk — the kind of face that never heard the word "no."
"Finally," the man drawled, looking Ethan up and down. "Took you long enough. Did you jog here from Queens?"
Laughter rippled from the small crowd behind him — men in designer suits, women in sequined gowns. A cocktail of arrogance and old money.
Ethan kept his tone level. "Your order comes to $327.50."
The blond man's smirk deepened. "Oh, I'm sure you'll survive without a tip. Actually…" He pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his pocket, let it flutter to the floor between them, and stepped back.
The laughter got louder.
Ethan's jaw tightened. His hands itched to plant the sushi bags in the man's smug face. But then a voice cut through the noise.
"Don't be an ass, Derek."
She stepped forward, and the room seemed to shrink around her. Tall, poised, with long chestnut-brown hair cascading over one bare shoulder. Her silver dress shimmered under the chandelier, clinging in ways that drew every eye.
She bent to pick up the bill, her gaze locking with Ethan's as she pressed it into his palm. Her touch lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Get me out of here…" she whispered.
It was so soft, so desperate, that Ethan almost thought he imagined it. But then—
[New Fate Detected — Isabella Knight's Ruined Future. Change it to Receive Rewards.]
The voice wasn't in the room. It was in his head. Clear, mechanical, undeniable.
He blinked, stunned.
[Mission: Remove Isabella Knight from her current relationship within 48 hours. Reward: $250,000 + Peak Martial Arts Mastery.]
His heart pounded. $250,000? Martial arts mastery? This was insane. Yet the words burned into his mind like truth.
Derek's voice cut through his thoughts. "Is there a problem, delivery boy?"
Something inside Ethan shifted. He'd spent years swallowing humiliation, letting people like Derek step on him. But now… now he had an opening.
He straightened, meeting Derek's eyes with a calm he didn't quite feel. "Yeah," Ethan said evenly. "There is."
The music seemed to quiet. Eyes turned toward them.
"I think you should apologize," Ethan continued, his tone steady. "For being such a disrespectful piece of—"
Derek's laughter interrupted him. "Security!"
Two suited men moved toward Ethan, but before they could grab him, something strange happened — his muscles felt sharper, more responsive, as if his body knew exactly what to do. He stepped aside, hooked one guard's arm, and sent him stumbling into the other. Gasps erupted.
Ethan adjusted his jacket, grabbed the sushi bags, and placed them on a table. "Enjoy your meal," he said coolly.
He turned to leave, but not before catching Isabella's faint smile — and the spark of something dangerous in her eyes.
As the elevator doors closed, Ethan's mind raced. This "Life Domination System" — whatever it was — had just given him a mission. He had forty-eight hours to change Isabella's fate.
And he was damn well going to succeed.
To be continued…