Chapter 3
1198words
She leapt out of bed and rushed to the bathroom mirror.
That even, luminous skin, that flawless cupid's bow—this wasn't a dream. This was data. A 2500% return on a $45 investment.
Her tired, anxious brain, habitually accustomed to calculating deficits, suddenly shifted gears. It began calculating potential.
If $45 could do this... then what could $1000 do? What could a truly substantial investment achieve?
She had spent her entire life on defense, trying to hold onto her meager possessions. A strategy of slow decay, managed decline. But the system wasn't offering a better way to play defense. It was offering an entirely new game. A game of offense.
She walked back to her small living room and picked up her wallet. Inside, behind a few crumpled dollar bills, lay a piece of plastic she regarded with the reverence one might show a venomous snake: her Visa credit card. It had a $5,000 limit and an interest rate that gave her nightmares. This was her emergency fund, her absolute last resort.
What emergency could be more urgent than your entire life? a voice in her head asked.
A cold, exhilarating resolve swept through her. Small bets yielded small returns. The lipstick was just proof of concept.
Now it was time for a quantum leap. She'd had enough of incremental changes.
She wanted a goddamn blitzkrieg.
She called the office to take a sick day, her voice firm and clear. She didn't cough or pretend to have a sore throat. She simply stated that she wouldn't be coming in today.
For the first time ever, she didn't feel an ounce of guilt. Apex Marketing and its buzzing fluorescent lights belonged to another life.
Her first stop wasn't the store, but an ATM. She withdrew $2,000 in cash using her credit card. The fee was outrageous, but the stack of crisp bills in her hand felt like ammunition.
She didn't just get a haircut. She spent an hour frantically Googling, found a salon in SoHo frequented by pop stars and actresses, and booked a slot that had opened up with a head stylist. The man's hands were insured for a million dollars.
He circled around her, marveling at her split ends, then picked up the scissors and began sculpting. He wasn't cutting her hair; he was constructing it.
Snip. Snip. Snip. An hour later, her mouse-gray, shoulder-length hair had transformed into a soft, artistically layered wave that perfectly framed her face and caught the light with every turn of her head. It was the kind of haircut that looked effortless but actually cost a fortune.
The bill was $500. She paid in cash without batting an eye.
[Investment processed: $500.00. Category: Aesthetic enhancement, head.] The system's voice hummed in the background of her thoughts, a reassuring yet cool buzz.
She didn't just buy a new dress. She walked into a small, intimidatingly fashionable boutique in the West Village, where nothing had price tags. A serious-faced woman with a tape measure around her neck was the only attendant. It was a studio, a place where clothing was created rather than merely sold.
Ellie pointed to a mannequin draped in midnight blue silk. The dress appeared simple but flowed with a complex elegance like liquid.
"I need that one. Tonight," Ellie said.
The woman measured her with practiced, impersonal hands. For two hours, Ellie stood as fabric was pinned, cut, and sewn around her. The dress was tailored for her new body, a second skin of pure elegance.
The price was $1,200.
[Investment processed: $1200.00. Category: Aesthetic enhancement, wardrobe.]
The transformation spiraled into a whirlwind of decisive, high-risk consumption.
A pair of seductive, sleek Manolo Blahnik heels that instantly corrected her posture the moment she slipped them on. $750.
A private consultation with a nutritionist and personal trainer at an exclusive, glossy gym. What they offered wasn't a workout plan, but a complete physiological overhaul. Initial meeting: $600.
A meeting with an optometrist, not for glasses, but for special contact lenses designed to subtly enhance the color and definition of her irises. $300.
With each transaction, her bank account silently screamed in agony, but Ellie only felt an exhilarating forward momentum. This wasn't spending. It was investing. She was the project. She was the startup. And she was all in.
As the sun set, she walked out of the last store. Her wallet was empty. Her credit cards nearly maxed out. She had spent a total of $3,350.
She hailed a taxi, a luxury she had never allowed herself before, and returned to her apartment. She was exhausted, yet buzzing with anticipation like a high-voltage current. She entered the apartment and walked straight to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door.
She took a deep breath, then looked.
For a moment, her brain refused to process the image. A stranger was in her apartment. A tall, stunningly beautiful woman stood in her bedroom, wearing a dress the color of dusk and shoes that made her legs look endlessly long.
Then the woman in the mirror tilted her head, and Ellie's thoughts shattered instantly, reorganizing around a new reality.
It was her.
But this version of her had been thoroughly, fundamentally rewritten. The system hadn't just adjusted her appearance. It had performed a comprehensive, complete overhaul.
Her physique, once ordinary and unremarkable, had become lean and athletic, with the subtle yet defined muscle lines of a dancer. Her posture was effortlessly perfect—shoulders back, spine straight. The expensive dress draped perfectly on what was now an objectively flawless frame.
Her facial structure had been refined. The slight asymmetry in her jaw was gone. Her cheekbones were higher, more defined. Her nose elegant and straight. The changes that lipstick had brought were magnified a hundredfold, incorporated into a face of breathtaking harmony. Her skin didn't just glow; it seemed to emit a soft, healthy radiance.
But what fascinated her most were her eyes. They were still her eyes, her blue, but they... were clearer now. Sharper. They sparkled with an intensity, a stunning wisdom and focus she had never seen before. Those weren't just the eyes of a pretty woman. Those were the eyes of a woman who perceived everything, understood everything, and feared nothing.
The system's voice delivered its final report with no triumphant fanfare, just a cold, objective conclusion like the closing bell of the stock market.
[Cumulative investment: $3350.00. Global asset enhancement protocol initiated.]
[Result: Subject has achieved top 5% rating in traditional attractiveness metrics. Analysis complete.]
Ellie stared, her hand rising to touch the face of the stranger in the mirror. She was beautiful. Not just "cute" or "pretty." She was objectively, scientifically, breathtakingly beautiful. That kind of beauty was a power in itself.
The timid, anxious girl who left this apartment this morning was gone. She hadn't just been transformed. She had been erased. In her place stood this creature, this masterpiece of investment.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across her new, perfect lips.
"Alright," she whispered to her reflection. "Let's go to work."
