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The fluorescent lights buzzed above, casting a harsh glow on the stale, gray walls of the office. Elliot Graves sat at his cluttered desk, staring blankly at the email on his screen. Another project dumped on him at the last minute. Another weekend sacrificed.
"Hey, Elliot! You don't mind picking up that report, right? You're the guy for this kind of stuff."
Bianca Harper's voice carried across the room, dripping with a mix of mockery and indifference. She didn't even bother to wait for his response, already laughing with a group of coworkers as she walked away. Her sleek, black stilettos clicked against the tiled floor like nails hammering into his ego.
Elliot sighed, muttering under his breath. "Sure. Why not?" He tried to focus on the task, but his eyes drifted to the office kitchen where the group gathered, their laughter growing louder. They weren't laughing with him; they were laughing at him.
It wasn't just Bianca.
The entire office saw him as an easy target. The guy who never stood up for himself. The guy who was invisible to women and barely tolerated by men.
Today was worse than usual. The quarterly team dinner loomed over him—a required gathering where the office hierarchy played out in full force. Everyone knew he'd sit in the corner, ignored and overlooked.
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That evening, the humiliation came to a head.
At the dinner, Elliot sat at the far end of the table, eating in silence while the rest of the team exchanged jokes and stories. Bianca, radiant in her crimson dress, dominated the room.
"So, Bianca," Richard Daniels, their boss, smirked. "Who's the lucky guy taking you home tonight?"
The table erupted in laughter, but Bianca smirked and raised a hand to point down the table. "Well, if I ever hit rock bottom, I guess there's always Elliot."
The room fell silent for a second before roaring with laughter. Even Richard chuckled, though he tried to hide it behind his glass.
Elliot froze. His face burned with shame. He wanted to say something, to stand up for himself, but the words lodged in his throat. All he could do was laugh awkwardly and sink further into his chair.
---
Later that night, Elliot stumbled home.
Drunk on cheap whiskey and crushed by the weight of his own mediocrity, he collapsed onto his couch, staring at the cracked ceiling.
"What's the point?" he muttered to no one. His phone buzzed on the coffee table, but he ignored it. He didn't need another work email or a half-hearted text from his only friend, Marcus.
As he drifted into a restless sleep, something strange happened.
A voice. Smooth, confident, and oddly seductive, whispered in his mind.
> "You've hit rock bottom, Elliot Graves. But what if I told you… you could rise?"
Elliot sat upright, heart pounding. The room was dark, except for a faint, unnatural glow coming from his phone. The screen displayed something he'd never seen before: a sleek black interface with bold, glowing letters.
Welcome to the Rizz God System.
> "Transform yourself. Master the art of attraction. Become the man you've always wanted to be."
Elliot blinked, certain this was some whiskey-fueled hallucination. He reached for the phone, and as his fingers brushed the screen, the voice continued:
> "You're tired of being ignored, aren't you? Tired of being the joke. Tired of watching everyone else win while you're left behind."
He nodded silently, his breath shallow.
> "Then accept the contract. I'll give you the tools. All you have to do is say yes."
Elliot hesitated. Was this real? Was it worth it? The humiliation at dinner flashed through his mind, along with every failure and rejection he'd ever endured.
He clenched his jaw. "Yes."
The glow intensified, engulfing the room. His phone screen filled with swirling data, and the voice became clearer, sharper.
"Welcome, Elliot. Let's start with Level 1: Confidence."
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To Be Continued...
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