Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clack.
The sound cut through the campus chatter like a metronome. It wasn't just walking; it was a countdown.
Sarah Vance moved through the plaza with the gravitational pull of a black hole. Students parted like the Red Sea, terrified of making eye contact. Her silver-grey business suit was impeccable, armor-plated perfection in a sea of hoodies and sweatpants.
Adrian Cole stepped directly into her lane.
"Bro, stop!" Tubby Tom hissed, diving behind a vending machine. "She eats people like us for breakfast!"
Adrian didn't stop. He adjusted his cheap cuffs, his eyes locked on Sarah. He wasn't seeing a terrifying heiress; he was seeing a Class-S Investment Opportunity.
He was five steps away when the world froze.
[DING!]
A massive blue System window slammed into his vision, blocking Sarah's face. The text pulsated with urgent red borders.
[MAIN MISSION TRIGGERED]
Objective: Introduce yourself to Sarah Vance. Condition: She must remember your name for at least 5 minutes. Time Limit: 24 Hours. Reward: Stock Market Prediction Tool (24h).
FAILURE PENALTY:Permanent Erectile Dysfunction.
Adrian stumbled.
He actually missed a step. His "billionaire stride" faltered into a weird hop.
Permanent what?
"You have got to be kidding me," Adrian whispered, horrifying realization dawning on him. The System wasn't just a cheat code; it was a terrorist. It was holding his manhood hostage for a stock tip.
He recovered his balance, but the momentary stumble had cost him his opening.
Sarah Vance was already there.
She stopped. Not because she was interested, but because he was physically blocking her path.
The silence in the plaza was deafening. Fifty students held their breath. Someone in the distance dropped a soda can. Clank.
Sarah looked down at him. She was wearing heels that put her eyes level with his. She peered over the rim of her glasses—the Death Stare.
[Target Analysis: Sarah Vance]Current Mood: Annoyed. Interest Level: -50% (You are an obstacle). Defense: Iron Heart (Active).
"You have three seconds," Sarah said. Her voice was cold, crisp, and devoid of any humanity. It sounded like a firing squad commander checking her watch. "Move, or I call security."
Adrian smirked. It was reflexive. The "Know-It-All" Smirk.
Most men would have stuttered. The old Adrian (22) would have apologized and run away. But the 38-year-old Adrian saw the micro-expressions. The tightness in her jaw. The way her grip on the tablet turned her knuckles white.
She wasn't just arrogant. She was stressed.
"You're holding that tablet like a shield, Ms. Vance," Adrian said, his voice dropping to a calm, conversational pitch that contrasted sharply with her aggression. "Bad meeting with the Board of Directors? Or just your father?"
Sarah's eyes widened. A microscopic crack in the ice.
"Excuse me?"
"The rhythm of your walking," Adrian continued, ignoring the sweat trickling down Tom's face in the background. "It's Presto Agitato. Fast and agitated. Usually, people walk that way when they're trying to outrun a problem they can't solve with money."
He stepped aside, opening the path for her with a theatrical, gentlemanly bow.
"Adrian Cole. Remember the name. You're going to need it when that problem catches up to you."
Sarah stared at him. For a full five seconds, she didn't blink. She analyzed him—the cheap clothes, the messy hair, the audacity.
Then, the ice returned. Thicker than before.
"Analysis: You are a psychology student trying to sound profound to get a date," Sarah said, stepping past him without looking back. "It's pathetic. Don't block my way again, Mr. Cole. Next time, I won't ask you to move. I'll have you removed."
She marched away. Click-clack. Click-clack.
The crowd exhaled. A few people snickered.
"Denied!" someone shouted from the back. "Rest in peace, bro!"
Tom crawled out from behind the vending machine, looking pale. "Dude. You're alive? Why did you provoke the Ice Queen? She looked like she was about to deport you from the planet."
Adrian watched her retreating back. He wasn't embarrassed. He was grinning.
[DING!]
[MISSION UPDATE]Condition Check: "Adrian Cole. Remember the name." Target Status: She thinks you are "Pathetic" but... she remembers the name.
MISSION COMPLETE!Reward: Stock Market Prediction Tool (24h) sent to Inventory. Penalty: Averted. (Your future bloodline is safe).
"She remembers," Adrian muttered, checking his pants pockets as if to reassure himself that everything was still functional. "That's all that matters."
"She called you pathetic, Adrian," Tom pointed out helpfully.
"Pathetic is an emotion, Tom. Indifference is the enemy. Hate? Disgust? Annoyance? Those are just stepping stones."
Adrian turned away from the Business School. He had the reward. He had the first contact. But he needed more than just a name-drop to conquer Sarah Vance. He needed a weapon.
He closed his eyes, accessing his future memories. He dug through the files of 2030—obituaries, interviews, biographies.
Sarah Vance. 2024 Interview. Forbes Magazine."My father only cared about numbers. The only time I felt peace was when I was alone... listening to Chopin."
Adrian's eyes snapped open. The golden System Glint flared.
"Tom," Adrian said, clapping his terrified roommate on the shoulder. "Do we still have that electric keyboard in the dorm basement? The one with the sticky keys?"
"Uh, yeah? Under the pile of old textbooks. Why?"
Adrian adjusted his jacket, the phantom weight of a tuxedo settling on his shoulders.
"Because I need to practice," Adrian said, walking toward the Arts Block. "I have to learn a masterpiece in 48 hours."
"You don't play piano!" Tom yelled, chasing after him. "You play Wonderwall on a guitar with two broken strings!"
"Details, Tom. Details."