The Westfield University auditorium was still buzzing from Ethan Black and Sophia Winters' Butterfly Lovers duet . Sure, the crowd felt like they'd been force-fed a rom-com's worth of PDA, but damn, those two could play. Ethan, especially, had jaws dropping with his master-level piano skills. Even Sophia's fanboys—self-proclaimed "rivals" who'd rather eat their sneakers than cheer—clapped like they meant it. "Guy's a freakin' Beethoven," one muttered, grudgingly impressed. Ethan and Sophia, side-by-side at the piano, looked like Westfield's own power couple, straight out of a Netflix special.
The only guy not clapping was Preston Tate, slumped in his seat, face paler than a ghosted Tinder match. His "Lucky Star" stunt was supposed to tank Ethan, not launch him into legend status. Ethan's "general" piano skills? General?! That was Grammy-level wizardry. Worse, Preston's scheme had thrown Ethan and Sophia closer, their chemistry lighting up the X feed with 25K likes and "#EthanSophia" trending. "I'm my own worst enemy," Preston groaned, smacking his forehead so hard his buddies flinched.
"Uh, you good, man?" one whispered, edging away. "Dude's unhinged," another muttered, bolting. Preston's meltdown was giving Midsommar vibes—nobody wanted to stick around for the sequel.
On stage, host Mia gushed, "Let's hear it again for Ethan Black and Sophia Winters—Westfield's new icons!" Another wave of cheers hit as Ethan and Sophia stepped off, parting ways. Sophia headed to her friends, but her cool "Ice Queen" mask couldn't hide the spark in her eyes. She'd joined Ethan to save him from embarrassment , expecting his piano skills to match her solid-but-not-spectacular level. Instead, Ethan had carried her through Butterfly Lovers, covering her near-misses with seamless flair. "He's a walking Easter egg," she thought, her view of Ethan shifting from "cute mystery" to "hidden genius." The change was subtle, like a playlist switching from chill lo-fi to epic orchestral—she barely noticed it herself.
Back with his classmates, Ethan was swarmed. "Bro, you're a piano god!" Jake hooted. "Duet with Sophia? You're livin' the dream!" Mikey added. Lucas "Biggie" Reed, fresh from his dorm drop-off, grinned. "Man, you went from Ferrari flex to Carnegie Hall. What's next, Broadway?"
"Eh, just messin' around," Ethan said, dodging the hype with his usual low-key charm. He slipped to a quiet corner, heart racing—not from the applause, but the game. That $300M StarPulse Entertainment presidency was calling. He opened Monthly Pay $3,000, I'm the World's Richest.
[Challenge Completed]
[Reward: President of StarPulse Entertainment + 30% Ownership ($300M)]
[Acquisition Contract: Delivered to SkyHigh Estates Villa #8 Desk]
[EXP Gained: 7 Points]
[Points Gained: 3]
Ethan grinned. StarPulse—a media empire spanning movies, music, and streaming—was his. With 30% ownership, his net worth just rocketed past $500M, up from $200M post-NewWest Plaza. Plus, 7 EXP and 3 points? Icing on the cake. He checked his stats:
Player Level: Lv1 (20/100)
Store Level: One-Star Store (18/50)
Level-up was close, and Ethan could taste it. A new prompt popped up:
[StarPulse Entertainment Details: View?]
"Hell yeah," Ethan muttered, tapping. The game laid out the goods: StarPulse, founded three years ago, dominated YouTube, Twitch, and TikTok, churning out influencers with millions of followers and top-tier streamers. Valued at $1B, it was a goldmine, with Westfield as its HQ. Ethan's 30% stake, worth $300M now, could double in a year as streaming boomed. "Not bad for a buck," he chuckled, recalling the game's $0.80 piano skill buy .
Ethan's mind raced. He'd visit StarPulse tomorrow—time to play boss. From dorm rat to media mogul in weeks, all for pocket change? Monthly Pay $3,000, I'm the World's Richest was the GOAT. But as he pocketed his phone, a chill hit. Outside, the black SUV idled, its engine a low growl. The game's latest warning—"Reality's Cracking" —echoed. Ethan's $500M empire was a beacon, and someone was locking on.
Meanwhile, at StarPulse Entertainment's sleek Westfield HQ, a late-night boardroom buzzed with panic. The outgoing CEO, a silver-haired suit named Victor Grant, had just dropped a bomb: a "mystery investor" acquired his shares. Effective immediately, Ethan Black was the new president.
"Ethan who?" a VP sputtered. "This is wilder than a plot twist in Lost," another groaned.
Victor shrugged. "All I know is his name and number. Kid's got deep pockets." He tossed a Post-it with Ethan's contact and bailed, leaving the execs in chaos.
"Let's hope this Ethan's not some crypto bro with a God complex," grumbled Claire Hudson, StarPulse's 40-something COO. As the room debated, Claire stood. "Alright, pipe down. I'm calling him."
She dialed, palms sweaty. "Mr. Black? Claire Hudson, StarPulse COO." "Hey, Claire," Ethan's voice came, chill as a Spotify lo-fi playlist. "What's up?" "We heard you're the new boss. Any orders?" "Swing by tomorrow morning. Just wanna check the place out." "Got it, sir. We'll roll out the red carpet," Claire said, laying it on thick. She hung up, turning to the execs. "He's coming tomorrow. Let's not screw this up."
The room erupted. "Tomorrow?!" "What if he's, like, 12?" Claire clapped for silence. "Get it together. First impressions matter. I want this office shinier than a Super Bowl halftime show."
The next morning, military training done, Ethan slept in—first Saturday off in weeks. He rolled out of Villa #8, hopped into his Ferrari, and cruised to StarPulse's glass-and-steel HQ. As he pulled up, a new game prompt hit:
[New Item: Quantum Media Algorithm, $15.00]
[Effect: Skyrockets StarPulse's reach by 500%]
[Warning: Syndicate's Watching. Move Fast.]
Ethan's grip tightened on the wheel. The SUV hadn't followed today, but that "Syndicate" name—first hinted by Maya Quinn —was no joke. StarPulse wasn't just a prize; it was a target. Ethan smirked. "Bring it on."