The skyline of Manhattan stretched across the horizon like the jagged crown of a slumbering giant. Gleaming spires pierced the evening fog, blinking red and gold in the dying light. On the rooftop of a mid-rise building in Midtown, Arthur Ashford stood alone, a gust of wind tousling his dark hair as he gazed out over the city.
He wasn't dressed like a lord — just a tailored charcoal coat over a black turtleneck, sleek leather shoes, and a silver ring barely visible beneath his gloves. But the way he stood — still, unblinking, surveying — said otherwise.
To the world, he was Ethan Lennox. Age 23. The youngest financial strategist to be promoted to a senior position at Vander & Wiles Holdings, one of the most aggressive private investment firms in New York.
To himself, he was Arthur Ashford.Son of exiled nobility.Architect of his family's resurrection.
He looked down at his phone. A message blinked from his assistant:
8:45 PM – Meeting with Ronald Choi, Park Central Hotel, Suite 29B. Confirmed.
Arthur pocketed the device and checked his reflection in the darkened window beside him. His eyes looked the same — sharp, storm-grey — but something else stirred beneath the surface lately. Something alive.
A hunger.
Inside Vander & Wiles, the office buzzed with low chatter and caffeine. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls, standing desks, and monitors showed global market data in real time. Young executives in designer suits passed by in quiet urgency. Deals were being made. Fortunes were shifting hands. But none of them truly understood the game behind the game.
Arthur did.
He had joined the firm at nineteen under a false academic identity, working as an unpaid analyst intern. Four years later, he was managing accounts worth north of $600 million. Not because of charm or legacy — but because numbers spoke to him. Patterns unfolded in his mind like symphonies. While others predicted dips, he orchestrated them.
Colleagues speculated about how he rose so fast. Some said nepotism. Others whispered blackmail or backdoor deals. None were true.
He just saw the world as it really was.
Not markets.Kingdoms.
At 8:30 PM sharp, Arthur stepped out of a black town car in front of Park Central Hotel. His polished demeanor blended seamlessly with the night — calculated, precise, forgettable to most. He moved like someone who didn't need to announce himself because the world would adjust around him.
Suite 29B was already unlocked when he arrived.
Ronald Choi — tech magnate, cryptocurrency advocate, and conspiracy theorist extraordinaire — greeted him with a glass of Japanese whiskey and a jittery smile.
"Mr. Lennox," Choi said. "Or should I call you the magician of mid-cap chaos?"
Arthur smiled faintly. "I prefer Ethan."
"Right, right," Choi chuckled, guiding him into the suite. "You don't talk much, huh? No interviews, no panels, no podcasts. You're a ghost in this city."
Ghost.
Arthur didn't flinch at the word. He just accepted the drink and sat across from Choi in a velvet chair, legs crossed, expression neutral.
Choi launched into a long-winded speech about altcoins, regulatory crackdowns, and investment windows. Arthur listened carefully — not to the numbers, but the hesitation in Choi's tone. The desperation behind the pitch.
He didn't want a partnership.
He wanted protection.
Arthur leaned forward.
"You're bleeding liquidity," he said flatly. "Your accounts are moving too fast, and you're hiding your losses behind shell startups that can't stay afloat for more than a quarter."
Choi stiffened.
Arthur set his glass down. "You're scared of someone. Who?"
Choi blinked. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."
Arthur tilted his head slightly. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Then I'll walk."
A beat passed. Then two. Finally, Choi caved.
"They came to me through an Emirati trust," he whispered. "Said they represented an old European house. Not on paper — I checked. But the power behind them... it's real. They're trying to consolidate legacy funds."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Which house?"
Choi hesitated, then pulled out a business card. No name. Just a symbol — a crowned sword, broken at the hilt.
The Morbrans.
Arthur felt something cold slip into his chest.
So they were here. Still moving behind the scenes. Still hunting the last remnants of nobility they hadn't crushed. And now they were trying to dominate the tech space by laundering their old-world wealth through new-age assets.
He smiled politely and stood.
"I'll take your case," Arthur said.
Choi blinked in surprise. "Just like that?"
Arthur adjusted his cufflink. "Just like that."
Because this wasn't about money anymore.
It was war.
Back in his penthouse, Arthur sat in the dark, the glow from his monitor casting harsh shadows across his face. A map of global corporate ownership hovered on the screen. He zoomed in on Luxembourg, then Switzerland, then an address in Geneva connected to five holding companies, all subtly linked to the Morbran crest.
He started building a new board — not for stocks, but for vengeance.
Then, without warning, the lights flickered. His screen went dark. His phone vibrated violently before dying.
"What the hell…"
He stood, reaching for the circuit breaker.
And that's when he saw it.
Floating in the air, pulsing faintly in green and gold — a translucent digital interface, like something from a sci-fi simulation. Sleek. Elegant. Alien.
At the center was a single title in serif gold lettering:
RICH EMPIRE SYSTEMPress Enter to Begin
Arthur stared.
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Still there.
He reached out instinctively and touched the air.
Click.
The screen shimmered. Then shifted.
Profile Loaded: Arthur Ashford
Age: 23Strength: 57IQ: 164Charisma: 82Attractiveness: 75Luck: 33Endurance: 71Stress Resistance: 88Creativity: 90Ambition: 100Determination: 96Empathy: 41Leadership: 89
Net Worth: $2.2 Million
Assets:
Café Equity Portfolio (6 locations)
Investment Accounts (3 domestic, 2 off-shore)
Blackwell Holdings (17%)
Passive Income Ability Unlocked:
+$1.00 every second (auto-wired to primary account)
Arthur stared in disbelief as the numbers on the screen began to tick upward — a dollar. Then another. Then another.
His eyes darted to the interface controls. A menu dropped down.
Mission 001: Cut TiesObjective: Quit your current job and begin building an independent enterprise.
Reward: ROI Vision (See a return on investment of any decision or entity in real-time).
He took a breath.
Then smiled.
"Finally."