Vincent Hall pulled his bank card from the ATM, his expression unreadable. The string of zeros displayed on the screen moments ago still danced in his vision.
He had sacrificed too much for this fortune.
The endless negotiations with publishers, literary agents, and the sharks at Warner Bros. had burned through more brain cells than he cared to count. If the true origin of this money were ever leaked, it would detonate a scandal across the entire United States. He would become the eye of a media hurricane.
After all, he was a minor—a high school student—who had penned the world's most infamous BDSM romance novel.
The shockwave would be global.
"It's not time for the reveal," Vincent muttered to himself, pocketing the card. "At least, not yet. Even with the confidentiality clauses, Warner is a corporation. The moment it becomes profitable to throw the mysterious author to the wolves for a marketing spike, they'll do it."
"But the royalties are in. Time to hit the club?"
A cynical smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
On the street, a group of local thugs loitering on the corner sized him up with predatory intent. Vincent ignored them. He wasn't carrying cash, and in this neighborhood, looking like you belonged was half the battle.
He was a student at Midtown School of Science and Technology. And yes, that was the school famous for producing heroes. Specifically, Spider-Man.
But secretly, he was an author. He hadn't written Harry Potter or Twilight. Instead, he had replicated the only novel from his past life that had left a scarring impression on him. It had taken over a year of layout and writing, but the results spoke for themselves.
The book was Fifty Shades of Grey.
"The rights are sold. According to the agreement, if Warner breaches the contract and leaks my identity, they owe me a hundred million dollars in penalty fees."
Vincent adjusted his backpack and turned toward Hell's Kitchen.
"System, settle the mission."
[Ding. Primary Mission: Harvest 1,000,000 Desire Points. Status: COMPLETED.]
[Ding. Secondary Mission: Accumulate $20,000,000 USD in wealth. Status: COMPLETED.]
[Host selected the "Rolling Mission" mode and completed tasks with distinction. The Blue Blind Box and Cyan Blind Box rewards have been merged. Critical Multiplier applied. Congratulations! You have obtained a Purple Blind Box.]
[Note: Reward Tiers: White, Blue, Cyan, Red, Purple, Gold, Black.]
The post-tax royalties for the Fifty Shades book sales sat at $14 million. The subsequent rights for film, gaming, and novel adaptations brought in another $30 million after taxes.
But for Vincent, the money was secondary. His true goal was spreading the book to harvest "Desire Points" for the System. What was the fastest way to generate intense longing, heated debates, and raw emotion from millions of people?
Fear? Anger? Joy? Or... carnal desire?
Vincent had chosen to tackle the first and second missions simultaneously. According to the rules, he could have cashed out after the first mission. But the System offered a "Rolling" option—like a game show where you risk your current winnings for a shot at the grand prize. If you keep going, the difficulty spikes, but the rewards compound.
Because Desire Points and Wealth were intrinsically linked, he had let it ride. If he hadn't hit the wealth target in time, he would have lost the reward for the desire target, too.
He pulled his hoodie up, keeping his head down as he weaved through the chaotic evening crowds, making his way back to his apartment in Hell's Kitchen.
He unlocked his door quickly, glancing down the hallway to ensure he hadn't been tailed, before slipping inside and bolting the lock.
"I need to find time to move," he sighed. "Hell's Kitchen is a dump."
From the apartment next door came the high-pitched shriek of a woman screaming, "Oh my God!"
Vincent rubbed his temples.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"FUCK YOU!" roared a voice from two doors down. "KEEP IT DOWN!"
Hearing the furious pounding on the walls from the neighbor two doors over, Vincent chuckled. It was hard to believe that Jessica Jones, with her slight frame, possessed the strength to stop a moving car with her bare hands.
When Vincent had first rented this place and ran into a blind lawyer named Matt Murdock, he realized he had transmigrated into a very complicated world. The Marvel Universe.
Fortunately, having Daredevil nearby meant the immediate vicinity was somewhat safer than the rest of the Kitchen. But when he realized Jessica Jones lived on the same floor, his vigilance skyrocketed.
Jessica herself wasn't the problem. The problem was the man who had once controlled her—the man who forced her to live with him, tormenting her mind. The Purple Man.
If he encountered Kilgrave, the current Vincent wouldn't stand a chance. He would become a puppet instantly. Zebediah Kilgrave emitted a unique viral pheromone; once inhaled or absorbed through the skin, the victim became verbally suggestible, their will completely overridden.
"Oh my Gooood!"
The screaming next door continued, ignoring Jessica's rage. In fact, the volume seemed to increase. Vincent was used to it.
"System, open the Blind Box."
He had waited a long time for this.
After middle school, his parents had dragged him abroad. They sold everything in China and naturalized in the United States. Vincent hadn't wanted to go, but he couldn't stop them.
When he was sixteen, his parents were caught in a looting spree at a supermarket. Two muggers shot them dead on the spot and took their wallets. The killers were still at large. Vincent knew exactly who they were—gang members operating right here in Hell's Kitchen, dealing product for the local cartels.
But with his current abilities, revenge was a pipe dream. Just walking down the street required caution. Unless you were backed by the Irish or the Japanese syndicates, being an unaffiliated Asian kid in Hell's Kitchen just made you a target. The only major Chinese faction was the Snakehead gang, human traffickers whom Vincent avoided like the plague.
[Please open the Purple Blind Box with your mind. Warning: Blind Boxes carry risks. Open at your own peril.]
A virtual chest appeared before him, radiating a regal, violet glow.
"Open," Vincent commanded silently.
The lid sprang open.
Sitting inside was a bizarre, pineapple-shaped fruit, colored a swirling blue and white.
Vincent's pupils constricted. The corners of his mouth twitched, then pulled back into a wide, uncontrollable grin.
"A Devil Fruit... It's a Devil Fruit! Jackpot!"
He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, barely suppressing his excitement. Thankfully, the neighbors were loud enough to mask his outburst.
[Congratulations. You have obtained a Logia-type Devil Fruit from the World of One Piece: The Ice-Ice Fruit (Hie Hie no Mi). Note: Due to world variance, Sea Prism Stone factors do not exist here. The curse of the sea is nullified.]
The System's notification nearly made him jump.
The Ice-Ice Fruit!
Who didn't know this power? Admiral Aokiji. The Ice Age. It was the definition of cool. Vincent hallucinated a tall man in a white suit lazily telling him, "Arara... boy, come inherit the Will of D."
Wait, no. Vincent shook his head. Admiral Aokiji—Kuzan—didn't have the Will of D.
He reached into the virtual box and grasped the fruit. It was cold to the touch. He took a bite without hesitation.
"Hmm. Sweet and crisp. Tastes nothing like shit."
The change was instantaneous.
A strange sensation flooded his body, not foreign, but instinctive. It felt as if he had been born knowing how to command the frost.
He held out his hand. Before his eyes, his five fingers turned translucent, transforming into solid ice. The frost crept down his palm, guided by his will, spreading up his arm.
Most miraculously, he didn't lose sensation. His perception actually sharpened.
The temperature in the apartment plummeted. Frost bloomed outward from his feet, coating the floorboards. Before Vincent could rein it in, his goldfish bowl had frozen solid.
With a thought, he retracted the cold. He exhaled a cloud of white mist.
"First time transforming... almost lost control."
Vincent assessed the power coursing through him. If he had slipped, he might have flash-frozen the entire block.
"The System's version of the fruit seems even more potent than the original," he mused, looking at his hand. "And without the curse... I can push this power to its absolute limit."