Damn it! Four at B! Four at B!"
The guy at the next computer slammed his fist against the desk hard enough to make the whole row of monitors rattle. "I’m dead! Retake! RETAKE!"
Jason flinched. The sudden shout ripped him out of the quiet tunnel his mind had sunk into. For a second the noise of the internet café rushed back in all at once~keyboards clacking, low curses, the whir of aging fans fighting the afternoon heat. He forced his eyes back to his own screen.
A second later a slow grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.
The order had gone through clean. Beetcoin. A few hundred dollars’ worth, bought at a price so low it almost felt like stealing. The chart sat still, undisturbed. No green candles racing upward yet. No panic. No one else in the room was even looking at it.
Jason exhaled, long and quiet, the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders finally easing. Thank God. He’d made it in time. The coin would sit in the shadows for months, maybe longer, before the world noticed. But that didn’t matter. He was already inside. He’d planted the seed at the very bottom, and that was everything.
He left the exchange open on his watchlist, memorized the login details one more time, then logged out. A few hundred dollars today could become a fortune later. The future, for the first time since he’d woken up in this younger body, felt like it was starting to lean his way.
An hour later he was riding Victoria’s motorcycle through the late-afternoon streets, the warm wind pushing against his face. The engine hummed steadily beneath him, familiar and reliable. He took the long way toward the neighborhood market, letting the city slide past in a blur of storefronts and afternoon light.
The market was alive when he arrived. Vendors shouted from both sides of the narrow road, voices overlapping in a messy, cheerful chorus. The air smelled of fresh earth, ripe fruit, and the sharp salt of seafood on ice. Jason moved through the crowd slowly, weaving between baskets and hanging scales. He bought pork ribs first, then sweet corn still in its green husks, bright orange carrots, and finally a small bag of apples.
Sarah had always loved apples. Even in the years when money was tight, she would pick out the reddest, firmest ones and save the best for him, pretending she didn’t mind eating the bruised ones herself. The memory landed soft and heavy in his chest. He paid, tucked the plastic bag against his hip, and headed home.
A few minutes later he reached the apartment building. The stairwell was quiet. He climbed to their floor, keys already in hand, and pushed the door open.
He froze.
An unfamiliar pair of women’s sandals sat neatly by the entrance. Pale leather, a little dusty at the toes. Someone was home.
Jason stepped inside, the plastic bag rustling against his leg. "Hello? I’m back."
Before he could take another step, a figure appeared from the living room.
She was tall. Elegant in a way that didn’t need effort. Dark hair pulled into a high, neat ponytail that swayed slightly when she moved. A simple white T-shirt clung to her upper body~nothing flashy, nothing tight on purpose~yet it did nothing to hide the full, heavy curve of her breasts. The soft cotton rested against them, outlining their generous shape with quiet honesty. Her waist narrowed cleanly beneath the fabric, and denim shorts cut off high on long, fair legs that looked smooth and strong under the apartment light.
She wasn’t dressed to seduce. She didn’t need to be. Her figure announced itself anyway~full chest, long limbs, confident posture~impossible to ignore even when covered.
Emma Reed. Victoria’s eldest daughter.
The moment her eyes landed on him, they lit up. Genuine surprise, then something warmer.
"Jason!"
Before Jason could even process the sound of the door, Emma was already moving. She crossed the short distance in three quick steps and threw her arms around him, hard enough that he staggered back a half-step and had to catch himself against the wall.
Her body pressed flush against his. A faint floral scent~something clean and soft, like the shampoo she used to steal from his bathroom when they were kids~rose between them. Warm. Familiar. The kind of smell that punched straight through years of distance.
"Emma... I can’t breathe," he managed, voice muffled against her hair.
"Huh?"
She let go at once, cheeks pink. A small, embarrassed smile tugged at her mouth as she stuck her tongue out at him the same way she used to when they were teenagers.
"Sorry. I just... I haven’t seen you in forever."
Jason stared at her. The last clear memory he had of Emma was her standing at the airport gate, suitcase in one hand, boarding pass in the other, trying not to look back. She had left the country. Never married. Never built the family everyone assumed she would. Never seemed to find anyone she actually loved. At least, that was how he remembered it.
Then the system interface flared to life inside his vision, brighter and sharper than it had ever been.
[Target Detected: Emma Reed.]
[Scanning...]
[Rating: 8.3]
[Tier: Beauty (2× rebate multiplier)]
Jason’s breath caught.
A second notification followed, the mechanical voice calm and clinical inside his head.
[Mission Detected.]
[At nineteen, you devoted all your attention to Olivia Hayes.]
[Meanwhile, you overlooked the woman who had always stood beside you.]
[Years later, she left the country.]
[Only after losing everything did you realize what true regret felt like.]
[Mission Objective: Reconnect with Emma Reed.]
[Reward: $2,000.]
Jason blinked.
[Ding! Mission Complete.]
[Reward: $2,000.]
He almost laughed out loud. Apparently a hug counted as reconnecting. Easy money.
Then the second thought hit him. That was a mission reward, not a rebate. The real payout~the multipliers, the 2×, 10×, 100×~played by different rules. And Emma’s rating told him exactly how high the stakes were if he ever tried to go further.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Emma tilted her head, studying him.
Jason forced his expression back to neutral. "Nothing."
"Really?" She narrowed her eyes. "You’re acting weird."
"Maybe you’re just imagining things."
Emma rolled her eyes and dropped onto the couch with an exaggerated groan, stretching her legs out in front of her. "You have no idea how exhausted I am."
Jason sat across from her. "What happened?"
"My research." She dragged both hands down her face. "I’ve been coding for days straight. Look at this." She pointed at her hair.
Jason looked. It was a little messy, sure, but still thick and shiny. "You call that damaged?"
"It is damaged!" she shot back, indignant.
He chuckled. Some things never changed. Even a genius PhD student could still spiral over her hair.
When the laughter faded, Emma’s expression softened. "How’s Aunt Sarah?"
Jason paused. The memory of the rooftop~cold wind, the weight of everything that had almost ended~flashed through his mind. "She’s stable."
Emma’s shoulders eased. "That’s good." She was quiet for a second, then added, voice lower, "If money becomes a problem, we’ll figure it out."
Jason looked at her.
She kept going, steady and matter-of-fact. "Mom, Grace, and I already talked. If it comes down to it, we’ll sell the house."
His eyes widened. "What?"
Emma shrugged, but there was nothing casual in the set of her jaw. "It’s just a house. But Jason~" her voice turned firm, almost fierce~"family comes first."
The room went quiet.
Jason didn’t know what to say. In his previous life he had spent years chasing people who never really cared~Olivia, the fiancée who walked away, a long list of people who took what they wanted and left. Meanwhile the ones who actually stayed, who actually showed up, had been right here the whole time. Emma. Victoria. Grace. And most of all, Sarah.
The realization settled heavy in his chest. For a moment the shame was sharp enough to taste.
Emma stood up suddenly, clapping her hands once like she was resetting the mood. "Anyway. I’m starving."
Jason managed a small smile. "Good timing. I bought ingredients."
Her eyes lit up. "You’re cooking?"
"Why does everyone sound so surprised?"
"Because you never cook."
He coughed, caught. Fair point. In his previous life the only reason he ever learned was because Olivia had once said, casual as anything, "I won’t be cooking after we’re married." Like an idiot he had spent months teaching himself. Looking back, he wanted to reach through time and slap his younger self across the face.
"I’m serious." He lifted the grocery bags. "Tonight’s menu is homemade chili."
Emma blinked, then smiled~wide, genuine, the kind that reached her eyes.
"Then what are we waiting for?" She grabbed the bags from his hands before he could protest and started pulling him toward the kitchen. "Let’s get started."
Jason let himself be dragged. Watching the easy excitement on her face, he felt something quiet and steady settle in his chest.
Maybe the system was right, he thought. Some regrets weren’t about the people who betrayed me. Maybe the biggest ones were the people I failed to appreciate while they were still standing right beside me.
And this time, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake.