Ethan stepped out of the bank, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder feeling unusually heavy—not from its physical weight, but from the sheer knowledge of what it contained.
Half a million dollars.
He glanced down at the bag, its sleek, sporty design courtesy of Charles, who had handed it over with a look of both professional courtesy and unspoken camaraderie.
At least it didn't scream look at me.
Charles had even gone so far as to let him use one of the bank's discreet back exits, ensuring he wouldn't attract any unnecessary attention.
Yet, as Ethan walked along the quiet street, he muttered under his breath, "So, this is what it feels like to carry around $500,000."
The absurdity of his situation struck him, and he chuckled softly to himself. 'Charles went through all that trouble for secrecy, and here I am, walking out in broad daylight like it's a casual errand.'
To Ethan, this amount was nothing more than a drop in the ocean compared to the infinite resources the system provided. The weight of the bag didn't faze him; what truly astonished him was how flawlessly everything had unfolded.
Every obstacle, every doubt had been swept aside as if the very fabric of reality had bent to accommodate his will—or rather, the system's will.
Now, there was only one task left: meeting with David Turner. The thought of it sent a ripple of anticipation through him. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and scrolled to David's contact.
The business card was safely stored away, but Ethan had saved the number in case it got misplaced—a small precaution but a necessary one.
With a mix of excitement and nerves, he dialed. The phone rang only once before David's familiar voice answered. "Hello?"
"Hi, David. It's Ethan," he said, his voice steady. "The one you met at the bookstore earlier."
There was a brief pause, followed by a note of surprise in David's tone. "Ethan? I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Do you have something for me?"
"I do," Ethan replied, glancing at the bag as if to reassure himself. "I spoke with my professor. He's very interested in your proposal, but we need to meet to discuss it further. I've arranged a place for us to talk. Can you meet in two hours?"
David hesitated for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Ethan's swift actions. "Two hours? That's soon. Where do you want to meet?"
Ethan had anticipated this. He knew he couldn't suggest just any location—not a diner, not a coffee shop. The weight of the deal he was preparing to propose demanded a setting that reflected its significance.
Flashing that much cash in public was out of the question, and if he wanted to leave the right impression, he needed a place with gravitas.
The answer came to him as easily as a light switching on: the Jerai Royale Hotel.
A symbol of exclusivity and refinement, it was far beyond anything Ethan had experienced, but it fit perfectly with the image he needed to project.
"How about the Jerai Royale Hotel?" Ethan suggested, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who frequented such places. "I'll book a private meeting room so we can discuss everything comfortably."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a hint of awe in David's voice. "The Jerai Royale? That's… impressive. I wouldn't have expected that."
Ethan allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "I'll see you there in two hours."
"Alright," David said, his excitement unmistakable. "I'll be there."
As the call ended, Ethan couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. This meeting would be pivotal—not just for the project but as a way to further secure his position and deflect any unwanted scrutiny about his wealth.
The stakes were high, but he felt ready to face them.
Or so he thought until his reflection in a nearby shop window caught his eye. The young man staring back at him looked far from the part of a savvy investor or a key player in a high-stakes negotiation.
His clothes were too casual, too unassuming. If anything, he looked like a college student heading to a lecture—not someone about to finalize a significant business deal.
Ethan frowned. "I need to dress better," he said aloud, the realization striking him with surprising urgency.
He thought back to the styles he'd seen in movies or online—sharp suits, polished shoes, and just the right amount of flair to command attention without seeming overdone. He didn't need to look extravagant, but he did need to exude confidence and professionalism.
"I'll know it when I see it," he told himself, already heading toward the upscale shopping district nearby. The thought of walking into the Jerai Royale looking anything less than his best was unthinkable.
If he wanted to impress David—and, more importantly, secure his standing—he needed to look the part.
***
The Laurel & Co. boutique stood among a row of high-end stores, its windows an invitation to another world. The displays gleamed with modern sophistication: tailored jackets, sleek shoes, and understated accessories, each piece exuding quiet confidence.
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It was the sort of place that seemed to promise transformation, though Ethan wondered if he was the sort of person it could transform.
As he stepped inside, the scent of polished leather and crisp cologne welcomed him as though the store itself had taken a deep, refreshing breath.
The atmosphere was hushed but purposeful, and for a moment, Ethan felt the weight of his own unassuming appearance amidst the curated elegance.
A saleswoman approached almost immediately, her sharp eyes taking him in before offering a practiced, polite smile. "Good afternoon," she said warmly. "How can I assist you today?"
Ethan hesitated, glancing around at the racks and displays. Everything looked impeccable—tailored and exact in a way he didn't yet feel. "I need something…"
He paused, searching for the right words. "Smart casual. Something suitable for a business meeting."
The saleswoman nodded, her smile never wavering. "Of course. Follow me."
As she guided him further into the boutique, Ethan noticed the subtle grace in her movements, the way her hand lightly touched the fabric of each piece she passed.
She didn't say anything outright, but he could sense her quiet appraisal of his current attire—casual, ill-fitted, and entirely out of place. Yet her tone remained warm, her professionalism intact.
"We have a selection of tailored jackets, dress shirts, and slacks that might work well for what you're describing," she said thoughtfully.
Reaching out, she selected a dark navy blazer from the rack. Its clean lines and understated stitching suggest effortless elegance. "How about this to start?" she offered.
Ethan studied the blazer for a moment, then nodded. "That seems nice. I can try it first."
Her smile softened, and for the first time, there was something genuine in it. Perhaps it was his politeness, or perhaps she had misjudged him after all. "Of course. The fitting rooms are just over there," she said, gesturing toward a row of sleek doors.
Inside the changing room, Ethan slipped on the blazer, pairing it with the crisp white shirt and charcoal slacks she had suggested. When he turned to face the mirror, he barely recognized himself.
The transformation was striking. The blazer fits perfectly; its sharp cut gave Ethan a sense of stature that he hadn't realized he was missing. The shirt and slacks complemented the look, creating an air of quiet confidence.
He stood there for a moment, adjusting the collar of the shirt and running his fingers over the fine fabric of the blazer. The man in the mirror looked like someone who belonged at the Jerai Royale, someone ready to sit across from David Turner and discuss a deal worth $500,000.
"This will do," he murmured to himself, the satisfaction unmistakable.
Outside, the saleswoman was waiting. "How does it feel?" she asked, her gaze appraising but kind.
"Perfect," Ethan replied, his tone firm yet quietly amazed. He glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll take it."
Her smile widened, and there was no mistaking the satisfaction in her expression. "Excellent choice. Would you like to add anything else? Perhaps a pair of shoes to complete the outfit?"
Ethan paused, considering. His sneakers, comfortable as they were, suddenly felt glaringly out of place. He nodded slowly. "Why not?"
Her smile brightened further, her enthusiasm almost infectious now. "Wonderful. Let's find something that pairs perfectly with this."
As she led him toward the rows of polished shoes, Ethan felt the faintest twinge of amusement. This wasn't how he had pictured his day, and yet, for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.
***
Now dressed in his new outfit, Ethan felt an unfamiliar but welcome surge of confidence as he approached the grand Jerai Royale Hotel. He caught his reflection in a polished storefront window and gave a faint, almost sheepish smile.
'So this is what it feels like to look the part,' he thought.
He couldn't deny the transformative power of his new attire. The dark navy blazer, crisp white shirt, and tailored slacks made him feel more than just presentable—they made him feel capable.
"She was a great help," Ethan murmured to himself, thinking of the saleswoman.
Tipping her generously had brought a momentary look of astonishment to her face, a look Ethan found surprisingly satisfying. 'Making someone else's day… it feels good,' he reflected, tucking the thought away for later.
As he neared the Jerai Royale, the hotel's shining facade rose before him, its reflective surface dazzling in the afternoon sun. The building seemed to embody the wealth and influence of its patrons, a reminder of the high-stakes world he was stepping into.
Despite his polished appearance, Ethan felt his nerves twist inside him, making his steps falter for a moment. 'Breathe,' he told himself, though his hands were clammy, and a faint dizziness crept in. 'You're here for a reason.'
Pushing through the revolving doors, he entered a space that felt like another realm entirely. Gleaming marble floors stretched out before him, catching the soft light of crystal chandeliers above.
The quiet hum of conversation, the faint clinking of glasses, and the gentle rustle of well-tailored suits filled the air with an almost tangible sense of affluence.
At the reception desk, a poised concierge glanced up, his smile polite and practiced. "Good afternoon, sir. How may I assist you today?"
Ethan straightened his posture and summoned his composure. "I'd like to book a private meeting room," he said evenly.
The concierge raised an eyebrow, though his professional demeanor remained intact. "Of course. Our private rooms are priced at $2,000 per hour. How long will you require the space, sir?"
"Three hours," Ethan replied without hesitation, his voice betraying none of the nerves still bubbling beneath the surface.
The concierge blinked, clearly surprised by Ethan's calm response. "That will be $6,000, sir," he said carefully. "Are you sure—?"
Ethan cut him off with a casual wave of his hand. "And I'd like to add premium delicacies and drinks. Whatever's best."
For a brief moment, the concierge seemed at a loss, his polished professionalism giving way to a flicker of disbelief. It wasn't every day that someone made such extravagant requests with such apparent ease.
"Of course, sir," he said, recovering quickly. "I'll arrange for our finest selection. That will bring your total to $8,000. May I charge your card?"
Ethan handed over his worn debit card, its edges slightly frayed. As the concierge glanced at it, his expression betrayed a hint of doubt—only to shift to one of amazement as the transaction processed smoothly.
For a man accustomed to handling wealth, even he seemed taken aback.
Returning the card with renewed respect, the concierge said, "Your room will be ready in half an hour, Mr. Vale. If there's anything else you require, please don't hesitate to let us know."
"Thank you," Ethan replied with a small nod, tucking the card back into his wallet.
As he turned away, the weight in his duffel bag felt lighter, justified by the certainty that his financial foundation was as unshakable as ever.
'It feels different to spend like this without worry,' he thought, a quiet smile forming on his lips. The thought wasn't one of arrogance but of a newfound ease—like stepping into shoes that finally fit.
With his outfit immaculate, the meeting room booked, and his encounter with David Turner just hours away, Ethan felt as though he was poised on the edge of something monumental.
The pieces were aligning, each step bringing him closer to a vision of himself he had never dared to imagine before.
Seated in the plush waiting area, he let his thoughts wander. The soft hum of the hotel seemed to fade as he considered the path ahead. 'I'm not pretending anymore,' he realized. 'This is real. I'm not just playing a role—I'm stepping into it.'
As he smoothed a hand over his blazer and glanced around the luxurious space, a quiet resolve settled over him.
With the system's unseen hand guiding him and endless possibilities unfolding before him, Ethan felt that, for the first time, the future wasn't just a vague notion. It was here, waiting for him to claim it.