The Student Council Wing of Saint Jude's Academy was a fortress of glass and silence. Here, the air was filtered to a crisp 20°C, smelling faintly of expensive ozone and white lilies. It was a world away from the humid, rain-slicked slums Ren had crawled out of.
As Ren walked, his boots—cracked and caked with the mud of his public humiliation—left dark, ugly streaks on the pristine white marble. In the past, he would have been trembling, waiting for a security droid to tase him for "visual pollution." Now, he just watched the streaks with a sense of grim satisfaction.
He was a virus in their perfect system. And he was about to go airborne.
He reached the office of the President. The door was a slab of reinforced obsidian, etched with the Thorne family crest. A biometric scanner pulsed with a soft blue light, waiting to verify a high-credit signature.
[System Note: Security Bypass Initiated.] [Injecting 'Ghost Code'... Access Granted.]
The heavy doors hissed open.
Seraphina Thorne didn't even look up. She was framed by a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the city, her long, raven hair spilling over a tailored charcoal blazer. She was the pinnacle of the "9.9" class—a girl so high in the social hierarchy that she didn't even see those below her as humans. To her, Ren was just a piece of furniture that had developed a habit of breathing too loudly.
"You have exactly five seconds to state your business before I have the peacekeepers scrub your existence from this floor, Ren," she said. Her voice was melodic but carried the lethal chill of an arctic wind.
Ren didn't speak. He walked across the room, his footsteps echoing like hammer blows. He stopped at her desk and leaned over, staring at the holographic documents floating in front of her.
"Five seconds is a lot of time," Ren said quietly. "In five seconds, the Global Credit Bureau can process ten billion transactions. In five seconds, a reputation can be deleted. And in five seconds, Seraphina... I can destroy you."
Seraphina's hand paused over her interface. She slowly looked up, her violet eyes filled with a mixture of boredom and mounting irritation. "You've finally lost your mind. The trauma of Julian's little 'display' must have snapped your fragile psyche."
"Look at me, Seraphina. Really look."
Ren activated the Eye of Avarice.
The room didn't just change; it dissolved. To Ren's eyes, the expensive furniture and the holographic displays became transparent. He saw the world as it truly was: a web of needs and lies. And there, pulsing at the center of Seraphina's chest, was the black thread of her secret.
[Target: Seraphina Thorne] [Secret Debt: The 'Imposter' Protocol.] [Detail: The subject possesses zero natural Psychic Affinity. She is using a military-grade 'Neural Overlay' device—illegal for civilians—to mimic the aura of a High-Tier Elite. If discovered, she faces a mandatory 20-year sentence in the 'Void' Prisons.]
Ren felt a surge of dark adrenaline. This wasn't just a secret; it was a death sentence.
"Your 'Psychic' scores were the talk of the city last month, weren't they?" Ren began, circling her desk like a wolf circling a trapped lamb. "A 98th percentile resonance. Incredible. The Thorne family's pride and joy. But tell me... why does the air in here feel so... electronic?"
Seraphina's posture didn't break, but her pupils dilated—a physiological "tell" she couldn't control. "I don't have time for your delusions."
"It's the earring, isn't it?" Ren reached out, his fingers hovering inches from her left earlobe, where a small diamond stud sat. "A signal jammer and a neural relay. It's beautiful tech. Very expensive. Very illegal."
The silence that followed was so absolute it felt like the room had been vacuum-sealed. Seraphina's hand moved instinctively to cover her ear, but she caught herself halfway, her fingers twitching. The mask of the "Ice Queen" was finally beginning to crack, revealing the terrified girl underneath.
"How do you..." she started, her voice finally losing its cold edge. "You're a 1.2. You don't have the clearance to even know that tech exists."
"The numbers are lying to you, Sera," Ren whispered, leaning down until he could smell her perfume—the scent of lilies and cold fear. "I see everything. I see the debt you owe to the truth. And I've come to collect."
[Ding!] [Condition Met: 'Absolute Leverage' achieved.] [Do you wish to initiate the 'Sovereign's Contract'?]
Ren looked into her eyes. He saw the moment her spirit broke—the moment she realized that this "ghost" held her entire life in his hands.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice a broken shadow of its former self. "Money? My father can—"
"I don't want your father's money," Ren interrupted, his hand finally making contact with her chin, forcing her to look up at him. The Aura of the Forbidden flared, making her breath hitch in a way that wasn't entirely about fear. "I want you. I want your access, your secrets, and your total obedience. From this moment on, you aren't the President of the Student Council. You are a 'Debtor' of the Thorne Manor. My Debtor."
[Contract Established: Seraphina Thorne.] [Current Debt Level: 1 (Interest Accruing).] [Reward: +5.0 Social Credit (Injected).]
Ren pulled back, the violet light in his eyes fading into a cold, calculating glow. He felt the power of the System flowing through him, the "Artificial Credit" rewiring his digital identity.
"Get me the files on the Vane family's offshore accounts by midnight," Ren commanded, walking toward the door. "And Seraphina? Don't bother trying to remove the earring. I've already linked my System to its frequency. If you try to take it off, it will send an anonymous tip to the Bureau automatically."
He didn't wait for her answer. He didn't need to. He could feel the Contractor's Mark burning on the back of her neck—a brand of ownership that no amount of social credit could erase.
As the doors hissed shut behind him, Ren looked at his hand. It was still shaking, but not from fear. It was the tremor of a man who had just tasted blood for the first time.