The bright afternoon sky was still clear when Miles Bennett dashed out of his college campus, glancing at the time. "Damn, I'm late!" he muttered, hoisting his backpack higher and pedaling his bicycle as fast as he could. The gears of his old bicycle whirred and strained, but Miles wasn't slowing down.

His shift at the pizza shop he worked in started in less than 30 minutes, but he needed to pick up his younger brother, Charlie, from kindergarten first just like he did every day. It was always a rush, but today it felt even more urgent. After a full day of learning and studying, Miles got caught up in the reverie of Valentine's Day, reproclaiming his love for Hanna, his girlfriend, with a Valentine's card.

He totally forgot he had responsibilities to do that there was no one else to do it. And one of these responsibilities was to pick up his little brother before, take him home to their aunt before he could work his shift.

Miles and Charlie Bennett were orphans, so you could imagine what this 19-year-old college student had to face. Living with his aunt wasn't any better. As a smoker and drinker she was, Miles did his very best to refrain from such activity in their little two-bedroom apartment, and also grow his little brother away from it too.

Miles made it to Charlie's school just in time to see his little brother waving excitedly from the playground. He scooped him up and onto the back of his bike. With a quick push of the pedals, they were off, weaving through traffic as the sun began to dip lower.

After dropping Charlie off safely at home, Miles waved his drunken aunt and hurried back to the pizza shop. His legs were sore from the cycling, but there was no time to rest. Mr. Santos, his boss would definitely be waiting for him.

He rode through the roads of the wonderful city of New Beckley before skidding to a stop outside the pizza shop–Pizzeria Santos Bella. Miles quickly spotted his boss standing near the door with his arms crossed, and a dark scowl on his face. Miles knew what was coming.

"You're late again, Bennett!" Mr. Santos shouted as soon as Miles walked in, still catching his breath. "This is the third time this week. You think you can just waltz in here whenever you want?"

Miles didn't respond, though he wanted to. His boss had a way of yelling without reason, always assuming the worst. He did his best to drown out the man's tirade as he headed to the staff room to change into his uniform. He nodded at Beatrice, his workmate, who flashed him a sympathetic look as she handed out drinks at the counter.

"Where do you think you're going without answering me, eh?! It seems you don't fancy this job anymore, do you?!" Mr. Santos' voice thundered through the hallway, each word stinging Miles like a slap.

What is this man saying now? Miles thought bitterly, slipping on his red uniform T-shirt and tugging the matching cap down low over his brow. He took a deep breath to steady himself before stepping out of the changing room.

"I have no intention of leaving this job, sir," Miles said, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage.

Mr. Santos' eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of exasperation and disdain. "If you keep arriving late to your shift, I won't even give you that decision!"

The words stung more than they should have, but Miles clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his composure. "Sir, I'm a student. I was late because I had to pick my little brother up from school."

His boss spat at his words. "Do I look like I care, eh? This is a job, not a charity. Now get out of here and go deliver these five pizzas. And just so you know—I'm cutting your pay."

Miles' fists curled at his sides as he swallowed the sharp retort rising in his throat. It wasn't unusual for him to argue with Mr. Santos, but he knew better than to push it further today. There was rent to help his aunt pay, tuition to cover, and Charlie's needs to think about.

He grabbed the five pizza boxes, their delivery slips taped neatly to the top, and secured them carefully in the basket mounted on his bike. Mr. Santos' voice trailed behind him, still ranting about tardiness and responsibility, but Miles was already outside, the cool evening breeze whipping at his face.

Miles' first stop was a small, cozy house that always seemed to have a warm glow spilling from its windows. It was the kind of place that usually welcomed deliveries with a smile and a friendly chat. He parked his bike by the curb, balancing the stack of pizza boxes as he slid out the first one.

A custom-made Valentine's Day pizza, he noted, eyeing the heart-shaped design on the box. Must be nice, he thought wistfully, pressing the doorbell.

The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman with an impatient scowl. "You're late!" she snapped before he could utter a greeting.

"I'm sorry ma—"

"Gimme my pizza! You delivery boys are all the same. I've been waiting forever!" she huffed, snatching the box from his hands.

"It won't happen again," Miles said, forcing a polite smile as he extended the receipt for her to sign. "Would you mind leaving a tip?"

"You must be very stupid for asking that!"

Bam! The door closed.

The smile on Miles' face faded as his heart sank. Rejections weren't new to him, but this—this stung in a way that made the winter air feel sharper. It made him wonder if other customers might reject tips. Tips were very important to him, a means of income that his boss never tampered.

Swallowing his disappointment, he turned back to his bike and pedalled away to the next house.

"I hope it isn't cold?"

"No, it's fresh out of the oven. Pizzeria Santos Bella always delivers hot," Miles replied, managing a tired smile as he handed over the box.

The two preteens stared down at Miles from their doorstep. "Fine. Give it here."

"Would you mind leaving a tip?"

The younger one snickered. "Aren't you a bit old to be begging for tips? Mom! Do you have a dollar for the delivery guy?" he shouted over his shoulder.

A sharp voice echoed back from somewhere deep inside the house. "No, I don't! And tell him he's late! Now shut that door!"

The older boy smirked and mimicked his mother's words. "You heard her. Shoo."

Before Miles could protest, the door slammed shut, leaving him standing on the porch with his hand still outstretched. The muffled laughter behind the closed door was like salt in a wound.

He dropped his hand slowly, swallowing the frustration that burned in his throat as he still tried to process if that really happened.

On a fateful day, Miles Bennett usually made around $30 to $50 in tips during his entire shift, enough to scrape by with some pocket change after his wages. $0 so far for him, when he was planning to buy a silver bracelet with a small heart-shaped charm for Hanna. It wasn't too expensive, but Miles was sure it could get to her heart on this lovely day.

Determined to salvage the day and earn whatever he could, Miles pushed himself to pedal faster toward the next address. The houses became grander as he rode, with manicured lawns and stone driveways that spoke of old money. When he finally stopped in front of the address, he found himself at the entrance of a regal residence with an elegant fountain and a courtyard lined with roses. Miles believed he was getting a tip this time. No rich individual wouldn't just mind sparing him a dollar or two at least for the effort of being a poor person.

Ding! Went the doorbell as Miles stood with anticipation, gripping the custom made pizza box tightly for good balance.

After a moment, the door creaked wide open, and Miles hearty smile vanished instantly. There, standing in the hallway was Hanna, her bright eyes, her chestnut hair. This wasn't Hanna's house, she lived in an apartment too just like him, but with her parents.

Her hair was loose, and her face seemed to be changing from a pleased expression. What made the sight of Hanna twist in his gut was the older man beside her, arm possessively draped around her waist. He was dressed sharply, the kind of tailored suit that screamed wealth, and his salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back in a way that spoke of confidence and power.

"Miles?" Hanna said, her eyes widening as the realization washed over her face. A second passed, tense and suffocating, before she recovered and flashed an uneasy smile.

"Hanna…" Miles' voice cracked slightly, eyes darting between her and the man whose grip tightened subtly around her waist. He didn't fail to notice she was dressed in a bathrobe which was clearly not hers.

The man's gaze was cold, assessing, before he smirked dismissively. "Who's this? Your delivery boy?" His voice was deep, smooth, as if he were used to owning every room he walked into.

After a while of staring, Hanna answered. "Yes. Just a delivery boy," she said to the man, turning back to Miles. "Well? Are you going to hand over the love pizza or stand there gawking?"

Miles' throat tightened as he swallowed down a wave of emotions, still searching for the right words to say. He couldn't believe the girl he dedicated most of his time to was cheating on him, even whoring at that. "Hanna, how could you do this to me?" Miles finally asked, heartbroken.

Hanna bit her lip, shaking her head as she looked down on him.

"Wait, you know him personally?" The man asked, kissing her neck deeply.

"It's nothing, my love. He's just a collegemate of mine. Nothing serious," she said, her voice turning cold. "It took you long enough Miles Bennett. Shouldn't you be getting on to your next delivery?"

Miles couldn't believe it. Nothing serious? How can she say that?

The older man, tired of this charade, reached out and demanded the pizza from Miles' trembling hands. Miles sucked up and passed out the box. "Here. Custom-made Pizzeria Santos Bella, just like you ordered," he said sadly, glancing at Hanna, hoping to catch a glimpse of remorse.

The man signed the receipt while Miles begged Hanna. "Does this mean you're breaking up with me?"

"Don't even ask me that here, Miles. I have a man now who can provide everything I need. You? The whole college knows you are such a worthless trash."

"Don't be so hard on him, darling. He's already had a rough enough day," he murmured to her, guiding her back inside with an air of practiced ownership.

Miles stood rooted to the spot, watching helplessly as the girl he thought he knew—thought he loved—disappeared behind the grand door of another man's house.

"Wait," the man's voice called again, the door opening just a crack. He reached into his pocket, producing a handful of crisp bills. "For your trouble," he said with a smirk, tossing the cash carelessly at Miles' feet before shutting the door firmly.

The green bills fluttered in the air, drifting down like autumn leaves around him as he held back his tears.

Beep! Beep! Went his watch, the alarm reminding him that there was still work to be done—another address to reach. He was supposed to be on his way now.

With a heart weighted by betrayal, he took a shaky step back. The money lay scattered on the ground, but he didn't touch it. It felt tainted, like an insult wrapped in currency. He reached for his bicycle and pushed it out of the courtyard.

Once he was out of sight, Miles stopped by a neatly trimmed bush and let out a deep, shuddering sigh. What's the use? he thought bitterly. I'm already late for the rest of the deliveries.

Miles gently slipped one of the last two pizza boxes from the carrier. The smell of pepperoni and melted cheese wafted up, momentarily comforting. He sat down beside the empty road an helped himself to the delicious snack, determined to forget all his responsibilities and drown away his worries with the pizza. If Mr. Santos fired him for this, then so be it. He wouldn't be the struggling student juggling college with a thankless pizza job anymore.

As he ate, lost in the rebellion of the moment, something strange happened. A shimmer in the air caught his eye, and before he could react, a holographic screen materialized in front of him, glowing with an otherworldly light.

[An economic anomaly has occurred]

[You have been blessed with the 10x Modern Money System]

[Assimilating System...]

[...Assimilation Complete]

[System Activated]