### Chapter 2
His foot faltered on the uneven ground, nearly throwing him off balance before he caught himself.
The chaotic events at the hospital flashed vividly behind Solomon's eyes. He had resorted to brandishing a weapon to scare Cassy and her sugar daddy away, but deep down, he knew he was far too disciplined to ever commit a heinous crime like harvesting his kidney back. Even if he intended to make her pay for the betrayal, it wouldn't be through raw butchery. He had merely used the threat of violence as a tactical bluff; if he hadn't intimidated them, Cassy and her lover likely would have used their influence to have the hospital security choke him to death right there in his weakened state.
Chasing them off in a panic had been his only viable escape vector.
"Grandma, I should have listened to you," Solomon murmured, looking up at the smog-choked sky before staring back down at his worn shoes.
He let out a heavy sigh and raised his right hand, examining the plain ring resting on his finger. "System," he muttered.
The entity had initially tried to anchor itself directly inside his consciousness, but he had firmly refused. He didn't trust a rogue digital anomaly enough to let it lease space inside his brain.
"Let me into the interface," Solomon commanded. He glared at the band, and a sharp, burning sensation suddenly stung his skin. He knew instantly that the system was retaliating, punishing him for using such an authoritative tone.
```
[ Respect the system, ] the voice chimed coldly inside his mind.
```
"Then tell me more about your parameters."
The system offered no verbal reply. Instead, a digital distortion rippled through the air in front of him, manifesting a sleek user interface:
```
[ Available Interfaces: Knowledge Manual ]
[ System Information Registry ]
[ System Grade Hierarchy ]
[ Host Wallet Balance: $51,000 ]
[ Mission Completion Ledger ]
```
He twisted the ring out of habit, feeling the cold metal pulse against his skin. Like it or not, this entity was bound to him permanently. The screen flickered, shifting to a text-heavy terms-of-service layout as it initialized an upgrade.
```
[ SYSTEM RULES — OPERATIONAL DIRECTIVES ]
1. Spend capital to trigger the cashback protocol. Base rate yields a 100% financial return.
2. Altruistic actions act as a resource multiplier. Direct investments into charity, family welfare, or protecting the disenfranchised yield a 500% cashback return.
3. Vain luxury, unaligned bribery, or transactions driven purely by personal greed will degrade the protocol, yielding only 0-10% cashback. The system rewards strategic utility, not mindless indulgence.
4. Redundant transactions are restricted.
Allocating funds to the exact same merchant or asset class twice within a single 24-hour cycle yields zero return. Diversify your expenditures.
5. Mandatory assignments will be deployed. Success grants localized rewards; failure results in the immediate liquidation of an asset or relationship you value. The collateral will be explicitly stated prior to acceptance.
6. Soul Coins represent the absolute tier currency. These are secured by neutralising rival system hosts, completing cross-dimensional deployments, or uncovering hidden system architecture. Soul Coins unlock conceptual items that fiat currency cannot purchase.
7. You are not unique. Other system hosts operate across these sectors. A fraction may serve as temporary allies; the majority constitute lethal competition. Exercise extreme discretion.
8. The system cannot decipher your internal thoughts. Utilize this operational blindspot wisely.
```
Solomon scanned the directives. It wasn't just a notification; it was a binding contract, and the ring on his finger proved he had already signed the dotted line. He raised an eyebrow, shifting his focus back to the available menu items.
The Knowledge Manual... that might actually be useful, he thought, tapping the option.
```
[ As expected, host. Your analytical choices remain remarkably efficient. ]
```
Solomon ignored the commentary as a physical, bound volume materialized out of thin air, dropping directly into his hand. He folded the guide flat and carelessly shoved it into his back pocket, a casual action that immediately provoked a digitized shriek of outrage from the ring.
```
[ Sacrilege! That is an archive that elite citizens across the higher sectors would slaughter to possess, and you crease it like a piece of cheap garbage salvaged by a D-class peasant— ]
```
"Watch your mouth," Solomon said, his voice dropping to a freezing register. The system abruptly went quiet, its digital feed cutting out as if it had completely lost its vocabulary.
This was still Earth—his baseline reality.
Solomon looked around the transit platform as a high-speed Mobi-train pressurized and came to a smooth halt inside the station. In the past, he wouldn't have even dreamed of entering this platform; the premium fare was a luxury his budget couldn't support. But with $51,000 sitting in his digital wallet, he had absolutely no intention of subjecting his recovering body to the grueling, overcrowded transport lines of the lower D-class grid. He could finally afford a standard B-class commute.
"Pathetic," a voice sneered. The conductor's assistant glared down from the boarding threshold, taking in Solomon's rumpled, hospital-worn attire with immediate disgust.
"What do you think you're doing here, boy? Can you even afford the entry toll?"
Solomon stared back at the man, his expression completely blank. Without uttering a single word, he raised his mobile terminal, turning the screen to face the employee.
The display flashed a verified balance of $51,000.
The assistant's jaw dropped, his eyes darting frantically between the verified digits and Solomon's calm face. "You—I—" He stuttered over his words, entirely incapable of forming a coherent sentence. Solomon gave him a cold, indifferent look, shook his head, and stepped past him into the air-conditioned cabin.
```
[ Host, what was the tactical purpose of that display? ] the system inquired, seemingly baffled by his psychology.
```
Don't you have optical sensors? Solomon thought back, adopting the dry tone of an exhausted old hound as he found an empty seat by the window. He settled into the cushioned leather and stared out at the passing landscape as the train accelerated.
The system remained silent for several miles before a sudden prompt flashed:
```
[ Alert: $1,000 utility credit deposited to host wallet for delivering a conceptual psychological slap to the employee's face. ]
```
Solomon merely raised an eyebrow at the notification. When he offered no verbal acknowledgment, the system's text began to pulse with clear irritation.
```
[ No expression of gratitude, host? Truly? ]
```
I only take what I have earned.
```
[ You—! ]
```
Tell me, system, do your algorithms possess a gender, or are you just naturally prone to nagging? Solomon mused, testing its boundaries. The interface went dark, refusing to answer. A faint smile played at the corner of his lips.
The world he lived in operated on a rigid, hyper-stratified ladder. F-class anchored the absolute bottom, scaling upward through E, D, C, B, A, and S, all the way to the legendary SSS-rank elite at the peak of global governance. Most citizens were assigned a designation at birth and perished within that exact same bracket. Solomon had spent his entire twenty-one years classified as a D-class citizen—just three agonizing rungs above the destitute bottom.
The daily reality of a D-class individual was a universe apart from the insulated luxury of the upper tiers. Yet, he had always accepted his assignment without resentment. He had never been driven by a desperate greed to infiltrate the higher circles; he had simply wanted a stable, quiet life, a decent job to support his family, and a future with Cassy. She was his first love, and he had poured five years of absolute devotion into their relationship.
And in return, she had harvested his body for parts. If she was miserable living in the lower districts with him, she could have simply spoken the words and walked away.
He would have granted her her freedom without hesitation. But to feign love just to extract a vital organ? What if a person who actually deserved his devotion needed that kidney in the future?
```
[ Biological correction: Host can access advanced cellular regeneration protocols to manifest a replacement organ once your clearance reaches the requisite tier. ]
```
Understood.
```
[ ... ]
```
The system appeared thoroughly vexed by his minimalist responses, but Solomon paid it no further attention.
The Mobi-train de-accelerated as it reached his home sector. After authorizing the fare payment to the conductor—who was still staring at him with a mixture of awe and profound confusion—Solomon stepped off the platform.
"Home sweet home," he murmured, his eyes scanning the familiar neighborhood.
Here, the ground beneath his boots was nothing but raw, unplastered concrete and packed red earth. It lacked the sleek, synthetic paneling and climate-controlled domes of the higher sectors, looking like a completely primitive world by comparison.
"Solomon? My god, you're still breathing?"
Solomon turned his head toward the source of the shrill voice. A group of local neighborhood aunties had gathered near a water dispensary, their eyes lighting up with immediate, predatory interest. These women spent their entire lives monitoring the downfalls of others.
Are they disappointed I'm not in a casket? Solomon's eyebrow twitched slightly.
"Poor boy," the lead gossip stepped forward, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy.
"We all thought you were a goner. The rumor around the block was that you gave up your right kidney for that girl and fell into a vegetative state from the surgical complications."
"You've been completely unresponsive for three months, son."
"Say, where is Cassy anyway? Why isn't she here nursing you back to health?"
Solomon paused, letting their intrusive questions hang in the heavy air for a moment before he finally responded. "Why isn't she with me?" He let out a dry, humorless laugh that caused the women to exchange uneasy glances. "She managed to secure a B-class relocation voucher. That's all."
"Cassy obtained a B-class classification? How is that even possible?" The aunties immediately huddled closer, their minds working at lightning speed to parse the data.
. "Is that girl blessed or what? What kind of high-ranking official did she have to meet to pull a stunt like that?"
As they calculated the timeline, the ugly truth began to take shape in their expressions. "Look at Solomon's face... he doesn't look like a celebrating man. Did Cassy step out on him? If she moved up, she was supposed to pull him along so they could wed in the upper grid."
"Oh my goodness... Cassy cuckolded the poor boy after taking his organ!" one of them gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth.
Solomon left them to their theories, turning down the narrow alleyway and walking into his family's modest courtyard. Smile, he instructed himself, forcing his facial muscles to relax. Don't let Grandma see the strain.
Don't let your little niece see you looking like a casualty. The calm facade he had maintained since the hospital ward felt perilously close to cracking.
```
[ Diagnostic status: Host's psychological metrics are highly unstable. ] the ring noted.
```
Shut up.
The moment he crossed the threshold, Solomon froze. The air inside the house felt suffocatingly tense. He frowned, his boots quiet against the floorboards as he moved toward the main living area.
"You owe this firm a verified sum, old woman—$20,000 flat."
The harsh, demanding voice echoed from the kitchen. Solomon stepped into the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. A group of heavily built men were crowding around his grandmother and a few trembling relatives.
Did Grandma lose her mind and sign a $20,000 note? Solomon thought, stepping further into the room.
"Your matriarch has been delinquent on her payments for exactly six months," the lead collector barked, spinning around to face Solomon. He scanned Solomon's disheveled hospital clothes, his posture instantly relaxing when he concluded the boy posed zero physical threat. He assumed Solomon was just another broke relative they could easily intimidate into submission.
Before the men could advance, Solomon's grandmother rushed forward, wrapping her fragile arms around him in a tight hug, her mind temporarily erasing the presence of the thugs threatening her life. "Oh, my sweet boy... thank god you're back. Grandma missed you so much. I'm so sorry you had to walk straight into this nightmare."
"Grandma, explain this to me," Solomon whispered into her gray hair, keeping his voice low and steady so as not to alarm her.
His grandmother tensed, her shoulders dropping with intense embarrassment as she looked away. "Son... I only borrowed fifty dollars from these people. I just needed to buy baby supplies for your sister."
Solomon closed his eyes briefly, understanding the weight behind her words.
His older sister was a fiercely independent, hardworking woman who always fought her own battles, but her life had taken a devastating turn when she ended up with a toxic man who abandoned her with a pregnancy, leaving her to raise her young daughter, Laura, entirely alone in the slums.
"Your grandma signed the terms," the loan shark interjected, thrusting a finger aggressively through the air to cut off the old woman's explanation. "The compound interest has accrued over time. It's been half a year since she took the capital!"
Solomon stared directly at the collector. His gaze was cold, sharp, and entirely devoid of human warmth. The sheer intensity of his stare caused the collector's voice to falter, the man almost choking on his next word.
"Tell me," Solomon said after a long, agonizing silence. "What exactly is your compounding interest matrix?"
These men were running a blatant predatory scam. A baseline fifty-dollar micro-loan had been artificially inflated into an astronomical twenty-thousand-dollar debt over a mere six months through illegal underground rates.
"What's the matter? Lose your tongues?" Solomon pressed, taking a step forward. "You aren't financial collectors. You're low-tier extortionists masquerading as loan sharks."
The thugs shifted uncomfortably, entirely unsure of how to handle his sudden defiance. Solomon was systematically dismantling their leverage. Right then, a vivid crimson notification flared across his vision:
```
[ Emergency Mini-Mission Initialized: Defend Family Honor ~ Eliminate the Loan Shark Threat. ]
[ Success Criteria: Disarm the collection unit and secure their permanent retreat. ]
[ Rewards: $10,000 Deposit + Local Favor Token. ]
[ Failure Penalty: Complete Mission Protocol Lockout. Social Standing Registry -50 points. Direct liquidation of family residential property to settle the debt. ]
```
What! Solomon roared internally. The system was a predatory opportunist, entirely willing to render his grandmother homeless if he failed to execute the task perfectly.
You are more ruthless than these thugs, he thought bitterly toward the ring. Today was turning into an endless gauntlet of torment, but the resolution of this crisis rested entirely on his own strategic execution.
Outside, a commotion was brewing. The neighborhood aunties had already migrated to the edge of the courtyard, peering through the windows, eagerly waiting for a family tragedy to dissect. If this escalated, their venomous gossip would systematically incinerate his family's reputation tenfold before sundown.
"Solomon, what on earth did your grandmother get herself into?" an intrusive auntie called out through the screen door, her face split by a faint, malicious smirk.
Solomon had run entirely out of patience for the day. He spun around, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "Who granted any of you authorization to breach this perimeter?"
He leveled a lethal glare at the onlookers, his expression promising violence if they didn't vacate the property instantly.
"You boys have truly crossed the line with these collectors," the stubborn woman attempted to argue, desperate for more material. But Solomon reached over to the wall, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of a heavy, rusted iron sword that rested near the doorframe—an old relic his older sister used to practice martial forms with. The moment he cleared the blade from its sheath, the gossips shrieked and scrambled out of the courtyard.
Turning his attention back inside, Solomon focused his mind on the interface. System, extract the routing number and master account details tied to this collection agency.
If the system could scrape local networks, it had to possess the financial data of these criminals. Surprisingly, the interface complied without hesitation, streaming the account digits directly into his line of sight, entirely unaware of what Solomon intended to do with the information.
Solomon pulled up his mobile banking app, initiated a direct line to the agency's head accountant using the secure routing details, and finalized a covert transaction. The moment the transfer cleared, the ring on his finger suddenly vibrated with a panicked surge of text.
```
[ System Error: Host has bypassed standard resolution vectors! You leveraged my data access to execute a targeted buy-out of their corporate accountant! ]
```
Solomon ignored the notification, turning back to the loan sharks. "Wait right here," he commanded smoothly.
The thugs stood there stupidly, assuming Solomon had called in a wealthy benefactor who was coming to pay off the debt in cash.
Within ten minutes, the front door rattled open, and a sweating man in a disheveled corporate suit sprinted into the room.
The collectors froze in sheer disbelief. "Chief Accountant? What the hell are you doing down here in the slums?"
The accountant completely ignored them, his hands shaking as he handed a stack of stamped legal documents directly to Solomon. The moment a heavy credit confirmation chimed on Solomon's terminal, the accountant turned on his heel and fled the property without looking back.
Solomon turned the legal documents around, holding them directly in front of the lead collector's face.
"You don't possess a single legally binding receipt proving my grandmother ever signed for a loan with your firm," Solomon said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "However, I now hold the verified internal ledgers for every single illegal extortion scheme, tax evasion loop, and unauthorized transaction your agency has executed over the last fiscal year. What do you think the sector authorities will do when I upload this encryption to the magistrate?"
Beads of cold sweat broke out across the collectors' foreheads. They had absolutely no counter-move left. The encrypted files in Solomon's hands carried enough weight to put their entire syndicate behind bars for the next three decades.
Muttering a string of bitter curses, the men turned and bolted out of the house, nearly tripping over each other to clear the gates.
"Grandma, are you alright?" Solomon asked immediately, dropping the rusty sword and turning to the old woman with deep concern. The sheer stress of the confrontation had visibly drained her remaining strength.
His grandmother studied his face, her eyes welling with tears of relief, still overwhelmed by the fact that he had miraculously awakened from his long coma. "I am fine, my beautiful boy," she whispered, her lips trembling into a fragile smile. "But... where is Cassy?"
"It's a complicated story, Grandma. Rest now."
Twenty minutes later, after ensuring his grandmother was safely settled into her room, Solomon stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, looking at his reflection and the battered, low-tier mobile phone resting in his palm.
"I need a new terminal and proper clothes," he muttered to himself.
He was going to be executing high-volume financial transactions in the coming days; his current gear was an operational liability.
After scrubbing the scent of the hospital ward away with a scalding hot shower, Solomon commuted to the border of the high-end sectors. He walked directly into a premium tech outlet and purchased a state-of-the-art flagship terminal—paying the exorbitant price in full without a single second of hesitation, an act that left the sales representatives standing completely agape.
"Thank you for your service," Solomon said smoothly, pocketing the device and exiting the boutique without paying their stunned expressions any mind. His next objective was to locate a premium wardrobe rental service; the specific class of high-grade suits he required to navigate the upper sectors simply didn't exist for direct purchase down in his baseline world.