Damien woke up at 7 a.m. to the sound of his neighbor’s dog barking through the paper-thin walls.
He hadn’t slept well. His body was still sore from the fight. His neck had bruised purple where Tyler’s fingers had been. And his mind wouldn’t stop running.
Sophia Russo’s text sat on his phone unanswered. A party at Sigma Chi. Tomorrow night. And the system had confirmed she was the quest target.
But first he had to survive today.
He rolled out of bed and caught his reflection in the cracked mirror. The navy blue blazer hung on the back of his door. The white dress shirt was pressed and ready. The brown leather shoes sat polished on the floor.
He looked at the bruise on his neck.
"Perfect," he muttered.
He showered. The water was actually hot for once, which felt like a small miracle. He used the Grooming Kit products again. The razor glide was smooth. The skincare absorbed instantly. By 8:30, he looked put together despite the bruise.
He checked his phone. Two messages.
Mia: Morning. You okay?
Mia: I’m nervous about the meeting.
He typed back.
Damien: I’m fine. Don’t be nervous. We didn’t do anything wrong.
Mia: Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who just got dumped and slept with a coworker in the same 24 hours.
Damien: Fair point.
Mia: See you there.
The second message was from Sophia.
Sophia: So is that a yes for the party? No pressure though.
He hadn’t responded yet. The system wanted him to accept. The quest required it. But he didn’t want to be the guy who only talked to women because a floating screen told him to.
Then again, the quest was the quest. And the rewards were significant. Sixty EXP. Six hundred dollars. And a new skill called Desire Reading.
He typed back.
Damien: Count me in. What time?
Sophia: 9pm. I’ll send you the address. It’s the Sigma Chi house on Greek Row.
Sophia: Fair warning though. Chad Sterling is in Sigma Chi. He’ll probably be there.
Of course he would.
Damien: Not worried.
Sophia: Bold. I like that.
He pocketed his phone and put on the outfit. The blazer fit like it had been tailored for him specifically. The shirt was crisp. The pants broke perfectly at the ankle. The shoes were comfortable and sharp.
He activated the Confidence Aura.
[Confidence Aura: Active. Duration: 1 hour. Cooldown: 6 hours.]
A warmth spread through his chest. Not physical. Mental. Like a switch flipped in his brain and all the anxiety, all the self-doubt, all the second-guessing just went quiet.
He looked in the mirror one last time.
The person staring back didn’t look like a barback. Didn’t look like a scholarship student. Didn’t look like a meme. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
He looked like someone who belonged.
[Voice Modulator: Equipped. Passive.]
He cleared his throat and tested his voice. Lower. Smoother. Controlled.
"Let’s go," he said to nobody.
The walk from his apartment to The Vault took thirty-five minutes. He could have taken the bus but he didn’t have bus fare. The system money was in his system wallet, not his real bank account. He still hadn’t figured out how to transfer it to cash he could use in the real world without raising questions.
He’d have to solve that problem soon.
The Vault looked different in daylight. Without the amber lighting and the bass-heavy music, it was just a building. Glass windows. Black awning. A small plaque by the door that read "Members Only After 8 PM."
He pushed open the door and walked in.
The interior was dark even with the lights on. Black marble floors. Leather booths. A bar that stretched across the entire back wall. The VIP section was cordoned off with a velvet rope that Damien had undone and redone a thousand times.
Marcus Webb stood behind the bar reviewing paperwork. He was a tall man in his forties. Clean shaven. Gray suit. The kind of guy who had given up on dreams and settled for managing other people’s parties.
Mia was already there. She sat at the far end of the bar in a modest blouse and jeans. Her hair was in a ponytail again. Her eyes were red. She’d been crying.
She looked up when Damien walked in. Her eyes widened slightly. She’d seen him in casual clothes and in no clothes, but she hadn’t seen him in a suit. The reaction was visible.
[Target Mia Chen. Arousal level: 34%. Confidence Aura effect: +10% authority perception.]
He gave her a small nod and sat down two stools away. Not next to her. Close enough to show support. Far enough to show professionalism.
Marcus looked up from his paperwork. His eyes narrowed when he saw Damien.
"Mr. Black. You’re early."
"I like being punctual."
Marcus studied him for a moment. The blazer. The shirt. The shoes. The bruise on his neck. Something shifted behind his eyes. Not respect exactly. But reassessment.
"Have a seat. Both of you."
Mia and Damien sat at the bar. Marcus stood across from them like a judge behind a bench. He placed his hands on the counter and exhaled slowly.
"I’m going to be direct with you both. Last night, I received seven phone calls and twelve emails from VIP clients regarding an incident that occurred off-premises involving two of my staff members."
He looked at Damien. "Mr. Black, you are being accused of assaulting a guest’s acquaintance with a weapon."
"The guest’s acquaintance brought a baseball bat to my coworker’s apartment," Damien said. His voice was calm. Measured. The Voice Modulator doing its work. "I defended myself and Ms. Chen. The police were called. No charges were filed."
Marcus blinked. He hadn’t expected that level of composure.
"Be that as it may, the optics are problematic. Mr. Sterling’s family represents a significant portion of our VIP revenue."
Chad’s family. Of course. They were the ones pulling strings. Seven phone calls and twelve emails. All because Chad shared a post and his daddy didn’t like the story it told.
[Perception check: Marcus Webb is not hostile. He is pressured. His personal assessment of the situation does not align with the complaints. He is looking for a reason to keep both employees.]
The system was reading Marcus. And Marcus was looking for an excuse to not fire them.
Damien leaned forward slightly. "Marcus, I’ve worked here for eight months. I’ve never been late. I’ve never missed a shift. I’ve never complained about cleaning up champagne that costs more than my rent. I show up, I do my job, and I go home."
Marcus shifted uncomfortably.
"Yesterday, a man broke into my coworker’s apartment with a weapon. I was there because she texted me at 2 a.m. asking if I was okay. I didn’t assault anyone. I defended myself. If the police had found otherwise, they would have arrested me. They didn’t." This chapter was copied from novelping dot com without permission.
Mia was staring at him. Her mouth was slightly open. She’d never heard him speak like this. Nobody had.
"If the concern is about optics," Damien continued, "then consider this. If you fire me for defending myself against a man with a bat, what message does that send to your staff? That their safety matters less than a VIP client’s feelings?"
Marcus opened his mouth. Then closed it.
"And if you fire Mia for being the victim of a domestic dispute, what message does that send to every woman who works here?"
[Confidence Aura: Active. Authority perception: +10%.]
[Marcus Webb intimidation resistance: Low. Compliance probability: 74%.]
Marcus rubbed his temples. He looked at Mia. Then at Damien. Then at the ceiling.
"I’m not firing either of you," he said finally.
Mia exhaled so hard she nearly fell off her stool.
"But," Marcus continued, "I need to make changes. Damien, you’re moving off the barback position. Starting next week, you’re on floor service. You’ll be serving VIP tables directly."
Damien blinked. Floor service. That was a promotion. Not a huge one, but it meant he’d be in the VIP section instead of mopping it. He’d be face to face with the clients. The women. The money.
"The VIP clients who complained specifically asked that you not be allowed near their tables," Marcus added. "But I told them that if they want exclusive service, they need to pay for bottle service minimums. Most of them backed off. The ones who didn’t aren’t worth keeping anyway."
[Quest-related event: Employment maintained. Social position upgraded.]
[System reward: +30 EXP, +$200 (Survival bonus)]
[Level up progress: 200/200 EXP. Host has leveled up!]
[Level: 2 → 3]
[Stat points awarded: +2 to distribute freely.]
[New System Shop items unlocked.]
[New Daily Quest timer: Active. 21 hours and 14 minutes remaining.]
He leveled up again. In the middle of a meeting. While keeping his job.
"Mia," Marcus turned to her. "You’re staying on bartending. Same schedule. But I need you to keep your personal life outside the bar. No more drama."
Mia nodded quickly. "Understood. Thank you Marcus."
"One more thing." Marcus looked at both of them. "The Sterling family requested that Damien be banned from serving their son’s table specifically. I’ve agreed to that compromise. Chad Sterling’s table is off-limits."
Fine by Damien. He had no interest in serving Chad. But the fact that Chad’s family had specifically requested his removal meant they saw him as a threat. Not a physical one. A social one.
They were scared of something.
"One question," Damien said. "Who made the calls? Besides the Sterlings."
Marcus hesitated. Then sighed. "The Ashford family."
The name hit like a punch to the gut.
Victoria Ashford’s family. The most powerful family in Los Angeles. They had called The Vault to complain about him. A barback. A nobody