The cursor shivers by physics, not fear. Jace sets his wrist, steadies the hand, and presses.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Spend detected: $2,600.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Evaluating Talent…[SYSTEM PROMPT] Verifying exclusions…[SYSTEM PROMPT] Eligible (tuition/fees). Roll variance: active.
The portal spins its little wheel like hope on a stick.
His phone thumps.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Cashback: ×2.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Disbursement today: +$5,200.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Total cashback disbursed today: +$17,844.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Daily cap remaining (Cashback): $82,156.00.
The portal clicks Payment Successful and generates a PDF with the confidence of a building that thinks receipts cure sin. Jace saves it to a folder called Receipts_YYMM, then drags it to Receipts_Tuition because order is a superstition that works.
Max bounces on his heels like the floor is carbonated. "We just got paid to go to school."
"We got incentivized to behave," Jace says. He prints the confirmation to PDF again because redundancy costs nothing. He notes the last four of the transaction ID in his notebook—pen moving, numbers neat: TSN-6403.
The panel floats with courtroom calm.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Total money crit disbursed today: +$380.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Daily cap remaining (Money): $99,620.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Advisory: session pacing acceptable; variety sustained.
Max sprawls back on the bed and stares at the ceiling like it owes him fireworks. "Okay. Victory lap?"
"Work lap," Jace says. He flicks open the campus marketplace app. The feed is a chum slick of dorm lamps, couch giveaways, textbook ransoms, three identical photos of a microwave that looks like it bites.
He writes a post the way he folds receipts: clean, fast, straight.
For Sale: Noise-canceling Headphones (Brand/Model). New, sealed. Bought tonight; receipt & warranty included.Price: $300 OBO.Meet: Dorm lobby (North Hall), tonight.
He adds one photo of the sealed box on the desk with the date scribbled on a sticky note. He toggles No holds, No trades, Transfer preferred.
"Transfer?" Max asks.
"Spends and loans are messy," Jace says. "Income is clean."
He taps Post.
The app coughs it into the stream. Three dots appear under it almost immediately, then a DM bubble pops like a fish surfacing.
LENA: 280 now? I'm in North lobby. Want them for a red-eye.
Jace checks the profile: senior, film major, mutual friends with three people who never shut up about lighting. Her face is a portrait of someone who has held a boom pole at 3 a.m. with dignity.
JACE: $280, transfer only. You can check the seal & pair test.LENA: Deal. At the couches. Gray hoodie.
He picks up the headphones. The box has the precise weight of a thing worth paying attention to. He slides the store receipt copy behind the plastic sleeve in the back. He narrates to himself because it keeps his hands honest.
"Inventory moving: headphones $300 asking $280. Transfer only. Warranty with buyer. Receipt copy with buyer. Original receipt copy stays."
Max hops up. "Field trip within a field trip."
Jace locks the laptop, pockets his wallet and phone, checks that the gift-card sleeves sit in different slots from transit, touches the tuition PDF on the screen with one fingertip like a superstition and a promise, then flips the light off. The fan keeps whooshing like it's practicing for a flight it will never make.
They leave the room. Hallway. Carpet soft. Someone opens a door and releases a smell that suggests ramen and soap had a baby. Stairs. Third-floor fire door. Metal steps. The rhythm of feet on concrete that have learned not to stumble tonight.
Lobby. Soda machine humming its bad decisions. RA behind the desk with a sudoku like a rosary. Couches. A gray hoodie over black leggings, a duffel at the feet, a laptop bag that has seen airports. Lena looks up, clocks them instantly, and stands with travel economy.
"Jace?" she says.
"Lena," he says.
She checks the corners of the box the way people who buy used gear have learned to check. He doesn't babble. He holds it at a good angle, lets her peel the tear-strip herself, because consent and trust live in small actions. The seal gives with that polite zip. She lifts the lid, touches the case like it might decide whether she's worthy. She pairs them to her phone. The little noise chime bleeps approval. She checks cancellation in the way a person who loves planes learns to love silence. Her shoulders drop one centimeter.
"Okay," she says, voice inside her new quiet. "Transfer?"
"Zelle," Jace says. "Name Carter."
"Done." Her thumbs work. The bank smell of money moves through the air like ozone.
Jace's phone buzzes.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Income detected: $280.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Evaluating Talent…[SYSTEM PROMPT] Money Welfare: ×2.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Disbursement today: +$560.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Total money crit disbursed today: +$940.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Daily cap remaining (Money): $99,060.00.
The bank ping follows. He checks the name; it matches. He gives the human nod that unlocks relief and slides the receipt copy from the sleeve into her hand. "Warranty is manufacturer; you have the sales slip and model number. If they try to be clever, use the phrase 'statutory warranty' and act bored."
She grins. "I'm a film major. I can act bored."
Max, somehow already Lena's friend, points at the duffel. "Red-eye?"
"My DP bailed," she says. "I'm going to Vegas to shoot six hours of a mid-budget trailer because the director thinks shadows are a personality. Headphones keep me from hating strangers."
"Godspeed," Max says, reverent.
Lena tucks the case into her bag with a care that looks like respect for future her. "You two are unreasonably organized," she says, not unkindly. "Thanks for not being weird."
"It's our core brand," Max says.
Lena salutes with two fingers, then slips out into the wet night, a comet that knows its own schedule.
Jace exhales through his nose. Not relief; calibration. He narrates for the ledger, quiet so only the boys and the night can hear. "Headphones transferred: $280. Money +$560 (×2).Money total +$940; cap remaining $99,060. Inventory left: power bank $80, USB-C cable $25."
The panel obliges with neat confirmation:
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Total cashback disbursed today: +$17,844.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Daily cap remaining (Cashback): $82,156.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Total money crit disbursed today: +$940.00.[SYSTEM PROMPT] Daily cap remaining (Money): $99,060.00.[WELFARE] Money L1 · Cashback L1
The RA looks up as if waking from deep sudoku. "Everything good?"
"All good," Jace says. "Lobby commerce."
"Keep the hallway quiet," the RA says, a man repeating a prayer that works half the time.
"On it," Max says, saint of acoustics.
They angle toward the stairs. Max pops the silent laugh that means his brain has more energy than his body. "So. We're… up."
"We're stable," Jace says.
They hit the first step when Jace's phone buzzes again. Message preview:
NATE: yo. you saved my life. my roommate wants a power bank. he's literally outside north hall now with $70. you in?
Max leans to read, grin already growing. "The universe tips."
Jace checks the rails: $70 is a Money event, not Cashback. Payment type: transfer preferred. Merchant variety: fine; this is peer. Attention: low. He feels the plan click into the floor with the same satisfaction as a seatbelt.
JACE: Transfer only. $70 now. We'll meet front steps, 3 minutes.
NATE: bet. he's in a yellow rain jacket. name Derek.
Jace turns, taps the lobby door with two fingers like he's reassuring a nervous animal, then looks at Max.
"Round three," Max says.
"Stairs later," Jace says, and they reverse course, step by step, like men who know exactly what they're doing.
The night leans forward.