Tobey unconsciously inhaled, his nostrils flaring slightly.
The aroma filling the place was overwhelming in the best way possible. Even though he had never been a "foodie" back on Earth—food was just fuel for the next job in the Syndicate—he found himself identifying every scent with strange clarity. He could smell the sharp tang of roasted garlic, the richness of slow-cooked beef, the earthy scent of rosemary, and the sweet warmth of freshly baked bread.
It smelled like a home he had never had.
The interior was a blend of old-world charm and efficient service. Instead of the cheap plastic booths and fluorescent lights found in the fast-food joints of Earth, the seating here consisted of high-backed wooden benches upholstered in deep burgundy leather. The floors were polished hardwood, worn smooth and dark by decades of foot traffic.
The walls were lined with vintage framed photographs of Brightwood's history, illuminated by small, amber-glass sconces that gave the room a cozy, twilight atmosphere.
The place was packed. The air was thick with the clatter of silverware against ceramic plates, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the low hum of conversation.
To the right stretched a long, polished wooden counter where solo diners sat on swivel stools, watching the line cooks work their magic behind a glass partition. The kitchen was a blur of motion—steam rising from iron skillets and the rhythmic chop-chop-chop of knives hitting cutting boards.
But Tobey quickly stopped admiring the interior.
He felt the weight of the room shift. The conversations nearest to him died down, and he noticed almost everyone glancing in his direction. Eyes were widening over coffee cups; forks paused halfway to mouths.
He felt a sudden, unexpected wave of shyness.
In his old life, staring meant a fight was coming. Here, it just meant he was a spectacle. He hated standing out, but with a body like this, hiding was impossible.
He forced his eyes away from the crowd and returned them to the petite employee standing before him. She was wearing a slightly oversized gray uniform with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, as if ready for hard work.
Tobey glanced at the name tag pinned to her chest.
Mari.
"Takeout," Tobey said, his voice coming out a little deeper than he intended, a low rumble that seemed to cut through the diner's noise. "Please."
"Right this way," Mari said cheerfully. "Let's get you sorted at the side counter."
She stepped out from behind the podium and led the way. Tobey followed silently, though moving through the packed diner was an exercise in precision.
The aisles were narrow, designed for normal-sized people. Tobey had to turn his body sideways to squeeze past the occupied booths, careful not to let his broad shoulders brush against a customer's head or knock a waitress's tray. He felt like a bull trying to tiptoe through a china shop.
He noticed the layout as he moved. The counter was split into two sections: the left side was buzzing with servers picking up plates for dine-in customers, while the right side was set up for to-go orders. Currently, no one was manning the register there.
Mari hopped behind the counter herself, tapping the screen of the register to wake it up.
Tobey glanced up at the rectangular digital menu boards hanging above the open kitchen. Bright, high-definition photos of food cycled through, making his empty stomach growl in protest.
He scanned the list until he found exactly what he was looking for.
[House Special:
• Roast Beef Special (w/ Mash & Veg) - 23 Crea.
• Extra Gravy - 1 Crea
"What can I get started for you, sir?" Mari asked, clicking a pen ready over a small notepad.
"Mari, right?" Tobey asked, glancing at her nametag again to be polite.
She blinked, surprised that the giant was making conversation, but nodded. "That's me."
"Do you know Mr. Barren Took?" Tobey asked. "The owner of the old market a few blocks down?"
Mari's face lit up with recognition. "Oh, Mr. Took! Of course. He's one of our regulars. A sweet old man, though we haven't seen him in a few weeks."
"He sent me," Tobey explained, leaning an elbow on the high counter, which actually made him look a little more human-sized. "He wanted me to pick up dinner. He said to get two orders of the Special Roast Beef."
He paused, remembering the specific instruction.
"And he emphasized... extra gravy."
Mari laughed softly. "That sounds like him. He loves that gravy." She quickly scribbled the order down on her pad before punching it into the register.
"Two Special Roast Beefs. Extra gravy on both. That would be 48 Crea."
Obviously, the change is 2 Crea. What dish he can buy with only 2 Crea. Then he recalled what Barren said to him before he left.
"Don't be arrogant. I might be broke, but I can afford a hot meal for a hungry giant. Get the roast beef. Whatever is left, spend it on yourself. Now go."
Is he for real? He chuckled for a bit. Then he extended his hand and placed the bill on the counter.
Mari took it.
The moment the bill left his fingertips and touched hers, time seemed to freeze.
Ding!
A crisp, blue holographic window shattered into existence right in the center of his vision. It was translucent, hovering over Mari's face, invisible to everyone but him.
[ EXPENDITURE CONFIRMED ]
[- 48.00 Crea ]
[ PROCESSING REBATE... ]
[ CONGRATULATIONS! FIRST PURCHASE BONUS APPLIED! ]
[ REBATE RATE: x1,000 ]
[ + 48,000.00 Crea ]
[ YOUR NEW BALANCE: 48,000.00 Crea ]
Tobey stopped breathing.
The numbers stared back at him, unmoving.
Forty-six thousand!
In the blink of an eye, he had gone from a penniless runaway to having enough money to buy a decent car. He had just multiplied Barren's money by a thousand times.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of excitement. But before panic about the legitimacy of the funds could set in, a memory unconsciously appeared in his mind. A voice, sharp and clear, echoed in his mind:
"Whenever the 'Rebate' triggers, the System will generate a legal paper trail. To the eyes of Woolace, your wealth comes from high-yield stocks and crypto investments."
This wasn't glitch money. This wasn't counterfeit. This was real, clean, spendable wealth. He had Black Cards sitting in his System Storage right now, waiting to be summoned, linked to accounts that would withstand any audit.
I can do anything, he realized.
His heart beat fast in excitement. With this amount, he can now start buying anything until it became millions and billions. And he will buy the old shop of Barren. That would be his first mark in Woolace.
And then, a softer, more desperate thought bloomed in his chest.
Peony.
With this kind of wealth—if he could replicate this—he wouldn't be a nobody anymore. He could stand face-to-face with her high-profile family. He wouldn't have to hide in the shadows. He could marry her. He could give her the life she deserved.
"Sir?"
The voice was distant.
"Sir!"
Mari's voice snapped him back to reality. The holographic screen faded into the background, lingering in his peripheral vision like a watermark.
She was holding out a few coins and a receipt.
"Your change, sir. 2 Crea."
Tobey blinked, his heart still hammering. He reached out with a hand that felt strangely numb and took the coins, and absently dropped them in his hoodies pocket.
"T-thanks," he stammered, his usual composure cracking for the first time.
"Order will be up in ten minutes!" she announced, already about to turn toward the kitchen to hang the ticket.
Tobey's mind raced.
Ten minutes!
He had 48,000 Crea in the System, but he couldn't spend digital numbers. He needed a way to pay now if he wanted to keep this streak going.
How do I access the funds?
A sudden clarity struck him. Information that felt like it had been burned into his brain surfaced—rules and mechanics that he knew were true, even though he couldn't recall who had told him.
The System provides Black Cards from the major banks of every nation. They are in the Storage.
The knowledge was absolute. He didn't question it.
An idea formed in his mind. He kept his hand buried deep in his hoodie pocket, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of the coins.
He focused his intent. He didn't wave his hands or open a menu in front of her. Instead, he tried to summon his storage silently.
Crea Black Card, he thought, visualizing the item appearing right in his palm.
He felt a subtle shift in the air inside his pocket. A slight weight settled into his hand, displacing the coins.
It worked!
His fingers traced the object. It was cool to the touch, rigid, and sleek. He could feel the familiar smooth texture of high-end polymer and the raised, etched numbers of a bank card.
Confidence surged through him like a shot of adrenaline. He wasn't just holding a piece of plastic; he was holding the key to the city.
"Wait!" Tobey called out.
Mari stopped mid-step and turned back, looking confused.
"Sir?"
Tobey didn't stammer this time. He pulled his hand out of his pocket—leaving the card hidden inside for now—and leaned forward with a newfound intensity.
"Can I order more?" Tobey asked, his voice steady. "All takeouts."
Mari hesitated, glancing at the line starting to form behind him at the other register. "Well, you can add to the order, but—"
"Don't worry," Tobey interrupted, flashing a charming, apologetic smile. "I won't waste your time. That food is for Mr. Took. I still need to order for my own dinner."
Mari sighed internally, forcing her customer-service smile to stay in place. She clicked her pen and hovered it over the pad again.
Be thankful you're handsome, she thought, eyeing his sharp jawline.
If he were any other indecisive customer holding up her line during rush hour, she would have unleashed her legendary sharp tongue. She was known for being "bitchy" when stressed. But for a seven-foot man with a polite smile? She could spare a minute.
"What will be your new order, sir?" Mari asked politely.
Tobey looked up at the digital menu, scanning the options rapidly.
"How many pieces of fried chicken are in one bucket?" he asked.
"Twelve pieces, sir."
"Give me two buckets," Tobey said without hesitation. "One sweet soy glaze, and one spicy."
Mari blinked but wrote it down. Twenty-four pieces of chicken?
"What else, sir?"
"What is your bestseller soup?"
"The Short Beef Rib Soup," Mari answered automatically. "It comes with radish and glass noodles. Very hearty."
"Okay. Give me three," Tobey started, then shook his head. "No, make it four."
"Four soups. Got it." Mari scribbled faster, her eyebrows climbing higher.
"Then two orders of the Vegetarian Salad," Tobey added, trying to add a semblance of health to the meal. "Now, for the dessert... what is the bestseller?"
"The Fresh Peach Cobbler and the Carrot Cake," Mari said, a hint of pride in her voice. "They were personally made by the owner of the diner this morning. Most of our customers love them."
"Great! Give me two each," Tobey said. Then he paused. "Wait. Is that a slice for one order, or the whole piece?"
"Just a slice, sir."
"Can you sell me the whole cake?" Tobey asked, using his large hands to demonstrate the size of a full round cake. "The whole wheel."
Mari stopped writing and looked up at him. "The whole cake? Sir, we usually sell by the slice. Buying the whole thing will be significantly more expensive."
"It's okay," Tobey assured her. "Forget the 'two each.' Just give me one whole Peach Cobbler and one whole Carrot Cake."
Mari stared at him for a second. This guy was ordering enough food to feed a football team.
"One whole Cobbler. One whole Carrot Cake," she repeated, tallying it up. "Is that everything?"
"Yes, " Tobey grinned. "How much is the total cost?"
She pressed the final button, and the register beeped.
"Your total comes to 569 Crea."
She looked at him, expecting him to flinch. 569 Crea was a lot of money. It was the kind of bill where customers usually said, 'Oh, wait, take off one of the soups,' or 'Actually, I'll just pay with credit.'
Tobey didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
"No problem," he said smoothly.
He pulled his hand out of his hoodie pocket.
Between his index and middle finger, he held a sleek, matte-black card. There were no flashy bank logos, no colorful designs—just a silver EMV chip and the embossed name: TIMOTHY GRAY.
It was a National Black Card.
The kind of card that didn't have a spending limit. The kind that was usually only seen in the hands of CEOs, celebrities, or old-money aristocrats from the Capital.
He placed it gently on the counter.
"Card," Tobey said.
Mari stared at the black plastic. Her eyes snapped up to his face, then back to the card, then back to his face. The "handsome stranger" vibe suddenly shifted into something much more intimidating.
Who is this guy? she thought, her throat suddenly dry. A runaway prince? A hidden tycoon?
She swallowed her shock and reached for the card with both hands, treating it like it was made of glass.
"R-right away, sir," she stammered, her earlier sass completely evaporating.
She slid the card into the terminal.
Beep.
[ TRANSACTION APPROVED ]
The machine spit out a long receipt.
For Mari, it was just a successful payment. But for Tobey, the world slowed down again. The familiar blue holographic window shattered into existence, hovering right over the credit card terminal.
[ EXPENDITURE CONFIRMED ]
[- 569.00 Crea ]
[ PROCESSING REBATE... ]
Tobey held his breath. Will it be x1,000 again?
The numbers flickered, cycling rapidly like a slot machine before locking into place.
[ REBATE RATE: x800 ]
[ + 455,200.00 Crea ]
[ CURRENT BALANCE: 502,631.00 Crea ]
Tobey let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
It went down.
The multiplier had dropped from x1,000 to x800. The "First Purchase Bonus" was evidently a one-time gift.
But a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
It's still insane.
He had spent 569 Crea—a significant sum—and in return, the System had handed him 455,200 Crea. That was the price of a brand-new mid-range car, earned in the time it took to buy dinner.
If he kept this up... if he bought a car... if he bought a house...
The math was staggering. The more he spent, the richer he became. It was a paradox that defied every law of economics.
"Sir?"
Mari was holding the Black Card out to him with two hands, her head bowed slightly in respect.
"Here is your card, Mr. Gray. And your receipt number is 42. It will be about twenty minutes for the full order."
Tobey took the card, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He slipped it back into his pocket, right next to the 2 Crea coins.
"Thank you, Mari," he said, his voice warm with genuine satisfaction. "I'll be waiting."
He turned away from the counter and walked toward an empty spot near the window. He needed to sit down. The adrenaline of making half million Crea in five minutes was making his knees weak.