Vincent woke to the sharp, insistent BEEP BEEP of the system blaring in his head, yanking him from sleep. His eyes snapped open, heart thudding as he sat up in the motel's lumpy bed.
The musty smell of the room hit him—a familiar reminder of reality. No escape, just him, the system, and the grind.
The holographic screen materialized in front of him, neon-blue text cutting through the dim morning light filtering through the cracked blinds.
[Daily Task for the Heir:]
[100 push-ups.]
[100 sit-ups.]
[Running 2 km, 10 laps.]
[Time Remaining: 20 hours 30 minutes.]
[Failure to complete the Daily Task will result in system penalties.]
Vincent groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Damn Groundhog Day," he muttered, but he pushed himself out of bed anyway.
Skipping it wasn't an option. The system didn't care about soreness, exhaustion, or personal opinions. It dictated, and he obeyed—or lost control of his body again.
He dropped to the floor, ignoring the damp smell of the carpet, and started his push-ups. His arms moved with a steady rhythm, muscles burning but adjusting quickly.
By fifty, sweat beaded on his forehead. By a hundred, his breathing was controlled, the motion mechanical.
[Push-ups: Completed.]
Flipping onto his back, he powered through sit-ups, his abs protesting but holding firm. He didn't pause, didn't think—just finished.
[Sit-ups: Completed.]
Grabbing his sneakers and hoodie, he stepped outside. The cold morning air hit him, biting through the fabric, snow dusting the motel's parking lot from last night's flurry. His breath came out in thin clouds as he started jogging.
The system kept pace, tracking every movement.
[Remaining Distance: 2 km.]
[Laps Completed: 0/10.]
The first few laps were routine. His body warmed with each step, the stiffness fading. The streets were empty except for a lone shopkeeper clearing snow off the sidewalk.
By the tenth lap, the system chimed in.
[Running: Completed.]
[Daily Task Completed.]
[Physical Condition: Optimized.]
[Qi Energy: Latent Potential – 1.5% Unlocked.]
Vincent slowed, hands on his hips, catching his breath. A slight surge ran through him—energy settling into his muscles, endurance clicking into place.
He glanced at the system's update. Qi Potential: 1.5%. A small increase, but noticeable.
Progress.
"Not bad," he muttered, smirking slightly. Qi training would come later. First, he had a deal to close.
***
After a quick shower and a change into his least-worn hoodie, Vincent grabbed his notebook.
He flipped through the proposal one more time—paint, locks, tools, cost reductions. Nothing extravagant, just solid numbers Marcus couldn't ignore.
Stephanie was already behind the counter, sipping coffee, flipping through invoices. She glanced up when Vincent approached, looking less guarded than yesterday.
"Up early, huh?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're actually sticking with this shit."
Vincent leaned against the counter, smirk still in place. "Day two of saving your ass, Steph. I'm heading to Reed's to lock in a supplier. You coming, or am I running this circus solo?"
Stephanie snorted, shaking her head. "Hard pass. Just don't fuck it up. If Marcus laughs you out, I'm not cleaning up your mess."
"Fair enough," Vincent said, pushing off the counter. "I'll keep you posted."
The system flickered.
[Progress Updated: Influence on Stephanie Moore – 87% Complete.]
Vincent stepped outside, pulling his hoodie tighter against the cold. The town was waking up, shopkeepers shoveling snow, a few cars rolling through the main street.
His mind ran through the pitch: keep it direct, highlight mutual benefit, don't oversell.
Marcus wanted proof, not promises. Vincent was ready to deliver.
***
The bell jingled as Vincent stepped into the warm, cluttered space. Sawdust, metal, the scent of well-used tools.
Marcus stood behind the counter, sorting through a box of screws, his flannel rolled to the elbows. He glanced up, expression neutral but not unfriendly.
"Back already?" Marcus asked, setting the screws aside. "Got something worth my time?"
Vincent slid the notebook across the counter, open to the proposal. "Numbers, timeline, the real shit," he said, voice steady. "Paint, locks, tools to start. I'm looking at 20% savings by going with you. In return, you get steady orders—security upgrades down the line, cameras, heavy-duty locks. More cash in your pocket."
Marcus flipped through the notebook, scanning each line carefully. Vincent watched him, tracking the slight nod when he paused at the cost estimates.
After a long minute, Marcus set the notebook down, crossing his arms. "Not bad, kid. You've got your shit together. But 20%'s a stretch. I'll do 15% off for six months—if you keep monthly orders. Less than that, I'm out."
Vincent felt the system's nudge his brain, sharpening his edge.
"Fifteen's decent" he said, leaning slightly forward. "But let's do 18% for a year if we sign today. I'll commit to two orders a month, $500 minimum. That's steady flow for you, and I can get this motel moving faster."
Marcus's eyes narrowed, but Vincent caught the flicker of respect in them.
"You're a ballsy one," Marcus muttered, rubbing his chin. After a moment, he nodded. "Alright. 18% for a year. Two orders, $500 floor. I'll draft a contract—come back tomorrow to sign."
Vincent extended his hand, feeling the rush of victory.
"Deal."
Marcus shook his hand, his grip solid. "Don't make me regret this, kid."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Vincent said, grabbing his notebook. The system chimed in.
[Task Progress: Establish Local Influence – 70% Complete.]
[Next Step: Sign contract with Marcus Reed by 12:00 PM tomorrow.]
Vincent left the store, the bell jingling behind him.
Not finalized yet—but Marcus was locked in.
***
Vincent stepped onto the icy sidewalk, the cold biting his face as the bell's jingle faded behind him. His breath puffed out, mind already racing. Marcus was half-won, but the contract wasn't signed yet—plenty of room to fuck it up.
One step closer to securing the motel. One step closer to building a network to fuck over Universe Enterprises. Those corporate pricks thought they'd buried him, but he was clawing up, system or no system.
"Keep pushing, you cryptic bastard," he muttered, heading for the motel.
He'd hit the Qi training next, then double-check the proposal. No room for half-assing. The system's timer ticked in his head, and Universe Enterprises wasn't waiting.