The next morning, Liam woke up with his usual easy smile, the kind that ca naturally these days. But this ti, there was an extra edge to it — anticipation.
Today wasn’t going to be spent holed up in the mansion, buried in the system store or tinkering with plans. Today, he was going out to sea.
Not just any trip either — the maiden voyage of the Mia under his ownership.
The thought made him almost giddy. The open ocean, the wind in his face, sunlight glittering off the waves... and he wasn’t going as just a guest on soone else’s boat. This was his yacht, his crew, his experience to shape exactly how he wanted it.
And he wasn’t going alone. Stacy, Kristopher, and the rest of the group had already confird they were coming. It was going to be a small crowd, the kind where everyone knew each other — enough people to make it lively, but not so many that it turned chaotic.
For Liam, this was going to be fun. Real fun.
He was already half-sitting up in bed when he rembered — there was one thing he had to do before anything else.
"System," he said with a grin, "sign-in."
[Congratulations, Host. You have received $15,000,000]
[You have received 0.02% shares of JP Morgan.]
[You have received ustom luxury casual wear set (tailored for yacht outing).]
[You have received custom wristwatch of significant heritage and value.]
Liam’s brows rose slightly. "Not bad..."
The first two rewards barely drew more than a faint smile from him now. The cash was always welco, of course — fifteen million more in liquid assets was nothing to dismiss — but it was the 0.02% JP Morgan shares that caught his attention for a different reason.
It had been five days in a row now. Every morning, without fail, the system handed him the sa fraction of the bank’s shares.
At first, it had been strange enough to make him wonder about the reason. Now? He’d stopped overthinking it.
Whatever the purpose, he wasn’t about to complain about an extra $160 million in assets, not when it brought his total JP Morgan stake up to 0.12%, with a staggering $800 million in market value.
But the last two rewards... those made him pause.
The "custom luxury casual wear set" and the "custom wristwatch" weren’t standard system gifts. They were... thoughtful. Tailored. The kind of thing soone gave you when they knew exactly what you were about to do.
With a faintly curious smile, Liam swung his legs out of bed and padded toward his walk-in wardrobe.
The mont he stepped inside, he spotted them imdiately. The clothes were displayed on a bespoke hanger stand, perfectly pressed and arranged as if an invisible stylist had been at work.
Thanks to his enhancent, he could see the details better.
The set was deceptively simple: a lightweight, soft-shouldered linen blazer in a muted cream tone, paired with a pale blue Italian linen shirt and white tailored trousers. The shirt’s fabric had that subtle sheen only the highest-grade long-staple cotton could achieve, and the trousers had a fit so precise they might as well have been laser-asured to his form.
The blazer alone, Liam guessed, would retail for sowhere in the $6,000–$8,000 range from a top-tier designer. The entire outfit? Probably $15,000–$20,000, and that was before factoring in the fact that the system almost certainly had it custom-made for him, no brand label, pure exclusivity.
His gaze moved to the shoes: a pair of hand-stitched, white calfskin loafers with a subtle tan leather trim. Comfortable enough for deck wear.
And then there was the watch.
It rested in an open suede-lined case on a small shelf, its face catching the morning light in a restrained flash.
Liam’s breath stilled for a mont as he picked it up. The dial was a deep, glossy enal — sowhere between navy and midnight — with Breguet nurals in polished white gold. The case itself was slim, elegant, and made of platinum, with a sapphire crystal back revealing an intricately hand-finished movent.
He didn’t need the system’s help to know what it was, but the instant he touched it, the knowledge still flooded into his mind.
A Patek Philippe Reference 570 — a vintage model produced in extrely limited numbers during the mid-20th century. This one, however, wasn’t just rare. It was unique. Custom-commissioned by an anonymous European aristocrat in the 1950s, it had passed through only two hands before the system plucked it from wherever it had been hidden.
Estimated value? Around $4.5 million.
But value was almost beside the point. In certain circles, this wasn’t a "watch" — it was a quiet announcent of power, heritage, and taste. Anyone who recognized it would imdiately know they were dealing with soone in the very highest strata of society.
Liam turned it over in his hands, smiling faintly. "You’re really looking out for , aren’t you?" he murmured to the system.
He slipped on the watch, its platinum weight settling comfortably on his wrist, then changed into the new clothes. The fit was perfect — almost absurdly so — and when he glanced in the mirror, he saw exactly what like he wanted.
He didn’t look like a flashy lottery winner or a nouveau-riche twenty-sothing desperate to show off. He looked like soone who had grown up with money. The kind of person who had always owned everything and anything.
"Thank you, system," Liam smiled as he thought off the watch and went to the bathroom to prepare for the day.
After he was done, he put on the new clothes and the watch, and headed downstairs.
Evelyn was already waiting near the table, her posture impeccable. "Good morning, sir. Breakfast is ready."
"Morning," Liam replied with an easy smile, making his way to the head of the table.
The maids moved smoothly around him, placing the morning’s dishes — fluffy olets with fresh herbs, smoked trout, toast, and seasonal fruit.
But before picking up his fork, Liam reached for his phone.
He dialed the number for the Sikorsky’s flight captain, and the man answered within two rings.
"Good morning, Mr. Liam."
"Morning. I need you to pick up from the mansion and take to the Mia. We’ll be heading out later today."
"Yes, sir. I’ll have the helicopter ready and on the nearest helipad within forty minutes."
"Good." Liam ended the call without fuss.
He didn’t bother calling Captain Rodrick of the Mia directly. The helicopter was currently parked on the yacht’s helipad — the mont it was gone, Rodrick would know what that ant. And if for so reason he didn’t, the flight captain would surely inform him.
Satisfied, Liam set the phone aside and finally began eating.
The food was good — simple, fresh, perfectly cooked — but it was the anticipation thrumming quietly in his chest that gave the morning its flavor.
Today was going to be a good day.
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