"Big brother! Your food is ready!"
Jet came back to his senses as he shook his head, smiled, and slowly walked into the kitchen. Inez was standing firmly on a sturdy plastic stool with a little fabric apron wrapped around her tiny figure.
She held a plastic spatula tightly in her hand as she carefully poured the food she had made into two porcelain plates.
It wasn’t anything elaborate, just a simple serving of spaghetti and scrambled eggs.
Looking at her tiny figure standing on top of the chair just to reach the counter, Jet didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.
The sheer domestic innocence of the scene contrasted sharply with the violent, blood-soaked memories flashing through his mind.
"Hmm... looks like Inez’s cooking has improved significantly. It smells absolutely delicious," Jet chuckled warmly as he sat down on the wooden dining chair.
Inez immediately puffed out her chest, her little face completely full of pride as she carefully pushed the plate toward Jet, serving him the food.Jet took his fork and started eating a mouthful.
Inez remained standing right there on her stool, looking down at him with an intense, expectant gaze, her white pupils wide with anticipation.
Jet shook his head with a smile when he saw her expression and then gave her a solid thumbs-up. "Your cooking is as good as always, Inez. It’s too delicious."
Hearing his praise, Inez immediately broke into a huge, radiant smile.
She giggled softly, hopped down from the plastic stool, and skipped off happily toward the living room.Looking at her retreating back, Jet fell into a deep silence. He stared at her tiny frame, his mind involuntarily traveling back to the very last time he had seen her in his previous life.
He remembered the darkness, the screaming crowds, and the massive, armored foot of that high-rank dungeon monster bringing down the weight of an entire world. He remembered failing to shield her.
His expression turned completely serious, and his eyes hardened. The lingering hesitation in his chest vanished entirely as his decision became absolute.
He would do whatever it took to ensure that future never happened again.
After they finished eating, Jet cleaned up the kitchen and gently tucked Inez into her bed. He stayed by her side until her breathing steadied into a peaceful rhythm.
Once she had fallen completely asleep, Jet quietly closed her bedroom door and made his way back to the living room once again.
He stood in the center of the room and looked around at his surroundings. He looked at the worn-out fabric couch, the quiet kitchen, and the framed photographs of their deceased parents hanging on the wall.
This was the only home they had ever known, the place they grew up in.A sharp hint of guilt flickered deep in his eyes for a brief, fleeting moment.
He stared at the photographs, lowered his head, and muttered softly under his breath, "Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad."
He had made the final decision to mortgage the entire apartment.
The property was entirely inherited and fully paid off, leaving it free of any existing debt. Because it was located in a highly valuable corporate sector of the city and sat within walking distance of a prestigious academic institution, its baseline market value was immense.
According to the original property deed and current market listings, the estimated value of the apartment sat comfortably at $7.84 million.
Under standard financial regulations, the maximum Loan-to-Value ratio for a secured asset of this type was capped at 60%, meaning his available secured credit line would be massive.
Looking at the application form loading on his smartphone screen, and then looking around at the empty apartment, Jet felt the corners of his lips twitch slightly.
He had put literally everything he owned on the table. His personal savings? Completely gone. His baseline credit score? Utterly destroyed by the dozens of digital applications. His childhood friend’s money? Fully borrowed.
And now, his parents’ sole remaining apartment was being placed up as collateral for a massive mortgage.If his future calculations were wrong about the arrival of the Second Red Moon, then he will be completely fucked.
He would be homeless, bankrupt, and drowning in unpayable debt within a month.
Sighing softly to clear his head, he continued filling out the digital application.
The year was 2075, and the modern financial systems were highly automated, driven by advanced networks rather than the slow, bureaucratic processes of fifty years ago. Integrated property ownership verification, instant credit risk assessment, biometric identification scans, and real-time AI property valuations made secured lending incredibly fast.
Although the final contract legalities and cash distribution wouldn’t be completely instantaneous, an applicant with a debt-free, high-value asset could secure an immediate pre-approved line of credit within minutes.
The smartphone screen refreshed, displaying a stark, black-and-white financial summary page:
Assessed Asset: Residential Property #4092
Property Status : Debt-Free / Fully Owned
Value Estimate: $7,840,000.00
Loan-To-Value Limit: 60%
Max Secured Credit: $4,704,000.00
Interest Rate : 8.4% Annually
WARNING: Failure to meet monthly repayment
obligations will result in immediate asset
foreclosure and liquidation.
Proceed with digital signature?
[ YES ]/ [ NO ]
Jet looked at the glaring digital prompt on his phone for a few quiet minutes. The silence in the living room grew heavy.
Then, without a single shred of hesitation left in his body, he pressed his thumb firmly against the glowing [YES] button, authenticating the contract with his biometric data.
The moment the screen cleared into a confirmation page, Jet let out a long breath, feeling as if the action had drained a significant portion of his physical strength.
This apartment was the last piece of heritage left behind by his family. If anything went sideways in the next thirty days, he would lose everything.
He sat back down on the soft cushions of the couch, forcing his mind away from the financial risk.
He needed to focus on the next phase of his plan: finding the right artist to draw the tattoos.
Over fifty years of intensive Divine Rune research, the discipline of tattoo artistry had completely evolved. Elite tattoo artists had developed an entire scientific and spiritual framework around recreating conceptual imagery with absolute precision.
The best practitioners in the world weren’t merely street tattooists anymore. They were highly educated specialists who spent years studying advanced mythology, human anatomy, runic symbolism, historical iconography, and Divine Rune theory.
They understood the concept of "Conceptual Weight" the exact way a specific artistic representation, line thickness, or shading style would affect the resulting talent rank when the Red Moon’s radiation hit the ink.
"Wait a minute..." Jet’s eyes suddenly lit up as a dormant memory from his past life resurfaced. He stood up slightly, his posture freezing.
"Isn’t that person still operating in this city right now? At this point in time, he should still be completely unknown."
Jet remembered a man who would become an absolute legend during the Second Awakening Era. Several of the most powerful, god-tier Second-Generation Awakeners were later discovered to have received their custom tattoos from the exact same underground studio.
That artist’s precision was so flawless, and his understanding of runic geometry so absolute, that humanity later labeled him with a legendary moniker: The Hand of God.
Right now, in the pre-Awakening month of 2075, that master craftsman is not that well known yet, although he is still quite famous but not at world-class celebrity level yet.
Jet’s eyes burned with a crazed, excited light. He pulled himself up to head out the door immediately, but he paused as his gaze drifted toward the digital clock on the wall. It was already past midnight.
The city’s transit systems were winding down, and the artist’s studio would be locked up for the night.
"I will go and look for him tomorrow morning to get the project started," Jet muttered, letting out a soft sigh to calm his racing thoughts.
He walked over to the desk, pulled out a thick, blank drawing notebook and a dark pencil, and sat back down on the living room sofa.
He had a have ideas of what tattoos he wants but he couldn’t create a masterpiece himself.
However, as long as he could sketch out the rough geometric frameworks, the exact placement of the limbs, the specific runic equations, and the mythological references, he could present the layouts to the master artist.
With their combined efforts and his future knowledge, they could design the perfect tattoos before the month expired.
Jet lowered his pencil to the paper and began to draw the first lines of the tattoos.
/N: Support by adding to your novel. And dropping a powerstone or two. Thank you.