Chapter 51: Garrett is a big boy

Chapter 51: Chapter 51: Garrett is a big boy

Garrett looked down at his phone.

[VALUE DETECTED]

[RECIPIENT: FREYA HUGHES]

[GENUINE VALUE CREATED: 100%]

[VALUE MULTIPLIER ACTIVATED]

[AMOUNT SPENT: £1,800]

[RETURN MULTIPLIER: 200%]

[CASHBACK RECEIVED: £3,600]

He stared at the numbers for a moment, waiting for them to change themselves into something that made more sense.

’Are you serious.’

He’d expected something. Some kind of confirmation, maybe a small return, enough to prove the feature actually worked the way it claimed. He hadn’t expected it to hand him back double what he’d just spent.

He read it again, slower this time, checking each line in case he’d misunderstood something obvious.

£1,800 spent. £3,600 returned.

Not a refund. Not the original amount coming back to him. Twice what he’d spent, sitting there in the notification like it was the simplest math in the world.

He glanced up briefly, half expecting the cashier to be staring at him, but she’d already moved on to the next customer, completely unaware that the man in front of her had just watched his bank account do something no bank account should be able to do.

That was when it actually landed. Not the number itself, but what the number meant.

Garrett grabbed his bags and headed for the exit, mind already several steps ahead of his feet.

’£100,000, just sitting there.’

He’d had no real plan for it. Hadn’t wanted to draw attention moving it around, hadn’t found a use worth the risk. Now, apparently, there was one sitting right in front of him the entire time.

If he was going to spend money anyway, he might as well make it work for him while he was at it.

But he caught himself before the thought could run too far ahead.

This wasn’t free money. The wording from last night hadn’t changed just because he’d seen it work once. Genuine value. Genuine interest. He couldn’t hand someone a pound and expect two back for it. The system wasn’t tracking the transaction. It was tracking whether the money actually meant something to the person receiving it.

That ruled out most of the obvious shortcuts before he could even consider them. He couldn’t manufacture gratitude. Couldn’t fake someone’s interest just by throwing enough money at the problem. And he definitely couldn’t spend carelessly and expect the multiplier to show up on command.

If this was going to work as a real source of income, it would only work if he actually paid attention to who he was helping, and why.

Garrett slowed his pace outside, scrolling back through the notification, and noticed something he’d missed the first time.

A small red box, sitting beneath the unlocked feature, easy to overlook if he hadn’t been looking closely.

He tapped it.

[REMAINING APPLICATIONS:1/10]

He stared at that for a second.

Ten.

He tapped it again, hoping for more detail, some clarification on whether that number reset daily, weekly, or meant something else entirely.

Nothing. Just the same line, no further explanation offered.

’Guessing that’s not resetting anytime soon.’

He wasn’t naive enough to assume it worked in his favor by default. If the system wanted him to know it refreshed, it probably would have said so. Ten was more likely everything he was ever going to get, not some renewable allowance he could burn through carelessly and expect to top up later.

That changed things considerably.

He couldn’t treat this like an easy multiplier to abuse on every small purchase that came his way. A couple pounds here, ten pounds there, none of that was worth spending one of ten total chances on. Whatever he used this on needed to actually matter, both in scale and in whether the value behind it was real.

Ten chances, no Nine.

He’d need to be careful about exactly who those Nine went to, and exactly why.

He switched off his phone, and the interface faded from view, leaving him with nothing but the weight of the shopping bags in his hands and an ordinary evening ahead of him.

He finished up at the store without incident, grabbing the last few things on his list before heading out. No further notifications. No new reveal waiting to surprise him on the walk home.

Just the usual route back, bags shifting slightly against his side with every step, ribs still reminding him they hadn’t fully recovered from last night.

At home, he put the groceries away, made himself something simple to eat, and went through the rest of the evening the way he normally would. Dishes rinsed and set aside. The apartment settling into its usual quiet as the light outside faded.

Nothing about the evening looked any different from a hundred other evenings before it.

But somewhere underneath the ordinary shape of it, something had shifted. Quietly, without announcing itself the way the beating or the warning or even Freya’s hug had.

Just a number in his account that meant something different now than it had that morning, and ten opportunities sitting there, waiting for him to figure out what to do with them.

Garrett got into bed at a reasonable hour for once, and this time, sleep almost came easily.

Garrett grabbed his phone before settling back against the headboard and called his sister.

She picked up on the third ring. "Hey, stranger. Wasn’t expecting you tonight."

"Figured I’d check in."

"Uh huh." He could hear the smile in her voice already, the kind that meant she wasn’t buying the casual excuse for a second but was willing to let it go. "How’s school?"

"Fine."

"That’s it? Fine?"

"Classes are classes," Garrett said. "Nothing exciting."

"You eating properly? Actual food, not whatever you survive on when you forget groceries exist."

"I’m eating fine."

"That’s suspiciously vague for someone who once lived off toast for a week."

"That was one week. Months ago."

"I remember it vividly."

They kept it light for a while, the usual back and forth, her filling him in on small things from home, him giving her just enough to keep the conversation going without saying much of substance. It was easy in a way most of his conversations lately hadn’t been, no timers, no warnings, no system notifications waiting to interrupt.

"Anyway," Garrett said, once the conversation found a natural pause. "I’m sending you two hundred pounds tonight."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. "You’re what?"

"Sending you money. Two hundred."

"Garrett." Her voice sharpened slightly, more confused than upset. "Where did you suddenly get two hundred pounds to just hand over? I havent even finished spending the 500 you gave me weeks ago now I get another 200?"

"Picked up some extra work," he said, keeping it simple, vague enough to hold up without inviting more questions than he wanted to answer. "Well lucky you I guess, you probably won’t go around disturbing mom and dad for a while."

"Since when?"

"Recently."

"That’s not really an answer."

"It’s the answer you’re getting," Garrett said, though there was no edge to it, just the same dry tone she was used to from him.

She let out a short laugh, clearly deciding not to push further. "Well. I’m not going to argue with free money. That’ll actually help a lot, honestly. Few things I’ve been putting off."

"Good. Use it for that, then."

"I will. Thank you, Garrett. Really." Her voice softened, some of the teasing dropping away. "You didn’t have to do that."

"I know."

He meant it, too. Not in some dramatic way, nothing he needed to explain further.

They talked a little longer after that, nothing important, just the sound of familiar conversation filling the space before the call eventually wound down.

"Get some sleep," his sister said finally. "You sound tired."

"Yeah. Will do."

"Love you. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Garrett ended the call and set his phone down, the apartment quiet around him again.

He sent the transfer a minute later, watched the confirmation appear, and put the phone aside without giving it much more thought than that.

Then he finally let himself close his eyes.