At the cashier counter of the underground casino, Ethan Blake could hardly contain himself.

  His palms were sweaty, his breath uneven.

  In his hands, the dealer counted out his winnings: $10,000 in neat stacks of chips.

  Five grand… more than enough to pay off those punks. And I’ll still have money left over for lunches, data top-ups… even a new pair of kicks.

  He knew he could stay longer. Ride the wave. Maybe walk out with twice this much.

  But he wasn’t stupid.

  Get greedy, get noticed.

  Still, this wasn’t goodbye.

  He’d simply hit up a different place next time. With his X-ray ability, every dice roll, every card table was just free money with fancy lights.

  Casinos were his ATMs now.

  “I’m done for the day,” Ethan said casually, sliding the chips toward the cashier. “Cash me out.”

  The woman smiled, reaching for the first stack.

  She never got the chance.

  Seven or eight bulky men with grim, unreadable expressions closed in around him.

  Heavy boots. Leather jackets. Cold stares.

  And then a gravel-slick voice growled behind him—

  “You trying to run a scam in my house, kid?”

  Ethan stiffened.

  He turned his head slowly, heart thudding.

  The man speaking was thick-chested, balding, and scarred—his face like it had lost a fight with a bottle once or twice. Gold chains. Black tee. A permanent sneer.

  Reeve Danner, the man who ran this part of town’s underworld.

  Damn it. I knew this place was sketchy, but this fast?!

  “Scam?” Ethan feigned confusion. “What’re you talking about? I played fair—check the footage. If I was cheating, prove it.”

  His voice stayed even. But his fingers were already curling, weight shifting to his heels.

  No proof. My ability leaves no trace. You can’t pin this on me.

  Reeve narrowed his eyes, then nodded toward his men.

  “Restrain him.”

  No hesitation.

  Ethan’s foot shot backward, a vicious roundhouse straight to Reeve’s crotch.

  “Urgh—!”

  The man doubled over with a guttural groan, collapsing like a felled tree.

  “THE HELL—!”

  Ethan didn’t wait.

  He slammed a punch into the nearest goon’s jaw, elbowed another across the temple, and sprinted for the exit like hell itself was behind him.

  “BOSS!”

  The thugs clustered around Reeve, helping him to his feet. His face was purple with rage, eyes glassy from the pain.

  “That little bastard,” he wheezed. “He hits me… he hits me?! I was gonna take a hand for cheating—now I’ll take his goddamn leg!”

  He turned toward his crew, still hunched and clutching his gut.

  “FIND HIM! BRING HIM BACK ALIVE!”

  The gang stormed out, weapons in hand.

  —

  Across the street, inside a sleek black Cullinan SUV, Damien Westbrook swirled a bottle of cold mineral water, casually watching through the tinted window.

  The casino doors burst open.

  Ethan Blake came flying out like a man with flames at his heels—sweat clinging to his brow, shirt half-untucked, every muscle in his body screaming survive.

  Seven or eight bruisers chased after him, shouting curses, swinging bats.

  A few blocks later, they all vanished from view.

  Damien sipped his water, calm as ever.

  Five minutes passed.

  The gang came trudging back.

  Empty-handed.

  Damien leaned back into the leather seat, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

  Of course he got away.

  Ethan wasn’t just any punk.

  He was the designated main character of this story—plot armor, cheat skills, mysterious background.

  Escaping a few goons? That’s child’s play. Prologue-tier obstacles.

  Still…

  Getting into it with a guy like Reeve Danner? Not smart.

  Now the underworld wanted him.

  That meant Ethan’s next few days would be messy.

  And Damien?

  He had just set the first domino down.

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  Let’s see how long that “protagonist luck” can hold up.

  Although Ethan Blake’s protagonist aura had clearly taken a hit, he was still… well, the protagonist.

  A guy like him was never going to get caught easily—plot armor was stubborn like that.

  【Ding! Host has successfully blocked Ethan Blake from earning his first pot of gold.

  Protagonist Aura -20.

  Villain Aura +20.

  Villain Points +200.】

  Damien Westbrook leaned back against the plush leather of the Cullinan’s passenger seat and closed his eyes with a slow exhale.

  It took a full weekend, two sleepless nights, a pissed-off casino boss, and half a million dollars flushed for the sake of credibility… but it was worth every cent.

  With a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Damien summoned the familiar glowing interface in his mind:

  【Host: Damien Westbrook】

  Combat Power: 89

  Charm: 268

  Villain Aura: 169

  Villain Points: 500

  Skills: None

  Five hundred. Just enough for one spin at the lottery.

  But… Damien hesitated.

  If I use it now and burn all my points, I’ll be broke the next time I need to scan someone important.

  What if I bump into another heroine? Or some hidden boss character?

  His fingers hovered over the option for a few seconds.

  Then he sighed.

  Patience is the game. I’ll wait.

  The weekend passed quietly.

  Through his private investigator, Damien kept tabs on Ethan’s movements. After the chaos at the casino, the guy had gone dark. Word spread fast through the underworld—Reeve Danner’s crew was out for blood.

  Ethan wasn’t dumb. He laid low, skipped the casinos, and stayed out of trouble.

  For now.

  Monday Morning.

  Sunlight filtered through the school windows as Damien strolled through the front gate, humming lightly, hands in his pockets.

  When he reached his desk, he opened the drawer—and paused.

  Huh?

  Inside was a neat stack of envelopes. Cream-colored, pink, some with glittery stickers. A subtle rose scent lingered in the air.

  Love letters.

  Damien blinked… then chuckled.

  Guess the weekend didn’t kill my campus appeal.

  He flipped through a few, curiosity piqued.

  Some were bashful, covered in tiny hearts and trembling handwriting.

  Others were bold—filled with confidence and flowery lines that made it sound like the girls were auditioning for a drama.

  “I watched you from the hallway during P.E. class… your back looked so confident.”

  “I love a man who knows math and fashion.”

  “Do you like cats? I have three.”

  He laughed aloud at that one.

  Flattering? Sure. But as he kept skimming, one thing stood out—he didn’t recognize a single name.

  Except for one letter… with no name at all.

  It wasn’t flashy, but the handwriting felt familiar. Elegant, yet simple.

  Damien stared at it for a moment, the gears in his mind turning.

  Where have I seen this before…?

  But the thought drifted away.

  He slipped the letter back into the drawer and closed it.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the classroom…

  Ethan Blake stepped through the door, his entire posture weighed down by fatigue.

  He looked like he’d barely slept—a shadow of the confident kid from last week.

  His backpack hung loose, his eyes were bloodshot, and the dark circles under them made him look like he’d lost a fight to a bottle of Nyquil.

  He dropped into his seat with a heavy sigh.

  Next to him, Zach Pierce—his chubby, mild-mannered seatmate—leaned in and whispered.

  “Hey, uh… did you win anything? Over the weekend?”

  Ethan gave him a hollow look.

  His lips moved, but no words came out at first.

  Finally, he forced out a brittle chuckle.

  “…I was up about $10,000.”

  Zach blinked. “What? Dude, that’s huge!”

  “But then…” Ethan trailed off, expression tightening.

  His fingers curled into fists beneath the desk. “Something happened. I lost it all.”

  His voice was flat.

  Empty.

  The same kid who had once smirked at teachers and cracked jokes with classmates now looked like he’d aged five years in two days.

  Zach frowned. “Damn, man… sorry.”

  Ethan didn’t answer.

  He just stared at his hands.

  Like he was trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong.

  “You said you couldn’t lose,” Zach Pierce hissed under his breath, face pale with tension. “So how the hell did you end up with nothing?!”

  His voice was low, but his frustration radiated like heat.

  “I—I got unlucky at the end,” Ethan Blake stammered. “It was going great until—look, I’ll pay you back. I swear.”

  Zach stared at him, eyes wide and wounded. “When? You know I’ve been saving that money for months—for Wen Jing’s birthday. That was my one shot.”

  Ethan tried to reassure him. “There’s still time, right? Her birthday’s not for another few weeks. I’ll make it right before then. Promise.”

  Zach looked away, biting his lip. “You’d better.”

  The words weren’t just angry—they were laced with fear.

  He had gone without snacks, skipped lunch more days than he could count, all to save up for one thing: a gift for the girl he liked.

  And now it was gone. Just like that.

  Over a gamble that wasn’t his.

  Elsewhere in the school courtyard...

  “Boss Damien, there was almost a fight between Ethan and his buddy just now,” one of Damien Westbrook’s lackeys reported in a hushed tone.

  Damien looked up from his phone and gave the guy a sidelong glance.

  “Go on.”

  The lackey repeated the overheard conversation word-for-word.

  Damien listened in silence.

  So... the $600 Ethan used to start at the casino—$500 of it came from Zach?

  That nugget of information lit a spark in Damien’s mind.

  A chubby, loyal best friend with no self-preservation skills? If this were a novel—which it is—this kid’s clearly a “protagonist-side sidekick.”

  The cliché was almost too obvious.

  Protagonists always have one: the overweight, loyal comic relief who gets dragged into everything but never questions the MC’s decisions.

  “System,” Damien said mentally, “pull up Zach Pierce’s character sheet.”

  【Scanning Supporting Character: Zach Pierce. This will cost 100 Villain Points. Proceed?】

  “Proceed.”

  A translucent window flickered to life:

  【Name: Zach Pierce (Ally of the Protagonist)】

  【Combat Power: 69】

  【Charm: 57】

  【Aura: None】

  【Skills: None】

  “Just as I thought.”

  No special aura. No skills. Just a plot device wrapped in fat and friendship.

  Damien leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  “System, if I break the bond between the protagonist and one of his core allies, do I gain anything?”

  【Yes. Altering key character dynamics will disrupt the original plotline and award Villain Points and Aura accordingly.】

  A slow, calculating smile crept across Damien’s face.

  So, there’s a crack in the shield. And that crack’s name is Wen Jing.

  All friendships were vulnerable to strain. But the combination of debt, betrayal, and unrequited love?

  That was a time bomb.

  He turned toward his desk, where a stack of love letters still sat.

  His fingers reached for the one without a name.

  The handwriting—neat, careful, and subtly elegant—clicked in his memory.

  Wen Jing.

  Of course. She’d left little reminders on her desk during study periods. Notes about formulas. Homework. Book pages.

  And this handwriting? It matched perfectly.

  So… you like me, huh?

  Damien’s fingers tightened on the letter.

  Then this just got a whole lot easier.

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