"Jake, you've been doing a fantastic job! Keep at it, and I'll make sure you get a raise next month!"
"Jake, I need you to put in some overtime. Your dedication isn't going unnoticed—I'll get you that promotion next month!"
"Jake, you've been outstanding this year. Employee of the Year? It's got your name written all over it!"
…
For five months, Jake had heard the same promises.
A raise. A promotion. A bonus. Recognition.
But every time he reached out to claim it, it vanished—like an illusion, always just beyond his grasp.
And now?
Nothing. No bonus. No promotion. Not even a paycheck.
Jake was furious.
A senior at NYU, he had taken an internship at a small tech startup in New York City, thinking it would be the perfect place to gain hands-on experience. His plan was simple: learn management skills from big corporations, but develop real technical expertise in a smaller company.
And in a way, he had succeeded. With his IT skills, he had become a critical part of the company, single-handedly managing its entire network infrastructure.
But instead of real rewards, all he got were vague assurances and pats on the back.
And now, it wasn't just about the nonexistent raise. His actual paycheck was at risk.
Jake exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against his desk.
"Let's see what excuse they have this time. If I don't get something real today, I'm out."
Six months ago, he was just another bright-eyed college student. Now, he knew exactly how the working world functioned—endless meetings, unpaid overtime, and bosses who talked a big game but never delivered.
That morning, his boss finally walked over.
The man looked tired. Hesitant. He opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed.
"Jake… I won't sugarcoat it. The company's shutting down. Effective immediately."
Jake blinked.
"…Shutting down?"
The words hit like a punch.
No wonder the office had been so empty lately. The others must have known. They had all jumped ship while he was still waiting for that mythical promotion.
Jake clenched his jaw. He had stayed because he had believed them.
Because he had thought it would pay off.
Because he had trusted them.
The tech industry was ruthless. Startups rose and fell overnight. Even billion-dollar companies collapsed out of nowhere.
So why had he thought this one would be different?
His boss sighed again, taking one last glance around the empty office before turning to leave.
Jake barely had time to process before he blurted out, "What about my paycheck?"
He hadn't been paid last month. If this month's salary didn't come through, he was screwed.
Living in New York wasn't cheap. His rent alone was nearly four grand, and that was for a tiny apartment way out in Queens.
The boss hesitated.
Then, with an awkward twitch of his lips, he reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and set it on Jake's desk.
"Don't blame me. The market's brutal. Small businesses just don't make it anymore."
And with that, he was gone.
Jake exhaled sharply, staring at the envelope.
"At least he left me something."
He opened it—and his stomach dropped.
Two hundred-dollar bills. One fifty.
Two hundred and fifty dollars.
Jake let out a short, bitter laugh.
Months of overtime. Sleepless nights. He had kept this company running.
And this was his reward?
Outside, he heard the familiar sound of an engine starting. He looked out the window just in time to see his boss's Audi A6 pulling out of the parking lot.
Of course.
Jake shook his head, shoving the bills into his pocket.
This was what it meant to work for someone else. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you sacrificed, you were always disposable.
And yet…
He had bills to pay.
If he didn't find another job soon, he'd be out on the street.
Maybe, in another life, he could swear off corporate jobs and start his own business. Maybe he could take some bold risk and come out on top.
But today?
Today, he needed to update his résumé.
As he walked toward the subway, Jake's mind raced.
He had to figure something out—fast.
The rent was due in two weeks. His savings were already thin.
And while he technically had an option—his ex, Claire, who came from money—he refused to go crawling back for help.
Then, suddenly, a strange voice echoed in his head.
"Congratulations, host. You have activated the Black-Tech Sign-In System. Sign in daily to receive a new black-tech product or ability. Would you like to sign in today?"
Jake stopped in his tracks.
What the hell?
He had read enough sci-fi novels to recognize this kind of setup, but still… this couldn't be real, right?
He hesitated for a moment, then muttered, "Sign in."
"Congratulations, host. You have received a fully automated luxury smart home. Please select a property to claim ownership."
Jake's heart pounded.
A home?
Any property? Even… One Manhattan Square?
"Of course. Here is the holographic projection of One Manhattan Square. Please make your selection."
A glowing 3D model appeared before him.
One Manhattan Square—one of the most exclusive residences in New York. A place where Wall Street executives and celebrities lived.
It loomed over the East River, an emblem of wealth and power.
Four towering structures. A private clubhouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows with million-dollar views.
The price? $250 million.
The monthly maintenance fee? $16 per square foot.
Jake exhaled slowly.
This was insane.
He scanned the options before finally selecting a penthouse. Eight bedrooms. Three living rooms. Over 8,200 square feet of pure luxury.
Market value: $200 million.
And just like that—
"Congratulations, host. Property ownership confirmed. Smart home integration complete. Please enjoy your new residence."
A notification popped up in his system inventory, showing digital copies of real estate documents and three access cards.
No keys—because who needed keys in a fully automated smart home?
Jake stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.
Then, without thinking, he hailed a cab.
He had to see this for himself.
When he arrived at One Manhattan Square, he stepped toward the entrance, still wearing his worn-out jeans and hoodie.
Sure enough, a security guard stepped in front of him.
"Excuse me, sir. This is a private residence—"
Before the man could finish, Jake pulled out his access card and held it up.
The guard's eyes widened.
"Welcome home, sir!"
The other guards quickly straightened up, nodding in apology.
After all, if someone could afford the outrageous maintenance fees at One Manhattan Square, they deserved respect.
And who would have thought a millionaire would dress like this?
"Shall I assist you with anything?"
"Yeah, take me to my apartment," Jake said, giving his floor number.
The property manager's eyes lit up.
"Ah, excellent choice, sir! That's one of our finest penthouses. Please, follow me!"
As he followed the manager inside, Jake couldn't help but grin.
This morning, he had lost his job.
Tonight?
Tonight, he was going home to a penthouse.