Chapter 3: The First Target
977 Words
Chapter 3: The First Target
The din of the bar pressed in from every direction, filled with clinking glass, laughter spiked with psychic energy, and synth music so intense it triggered faint vibrations through the floor tiles. Leo Xu leaned against the cracked leather of the booth seat, raising a half-empty glass to his lips, trying to ignore the burn of cheap mana-infused bourbon.
Then came the voice.
Not through speakers. Not from any friend nearby. It echoed straight through the core of his mind.
[The Ultimate Bootlicker System has been activated. Please select your first target for pursuit as soon as possible.]
He blinked.
Had he just imagined that?
The chaos of the bar around him offered no clues. Everyone was drinking, dancing, flirting under the neon glow. He glanced to his three roommates—still laughing, completely unaware. It was definitely internal. Deep internal. Psychic-level internal.
Then came the display: a retinal panel suddenly overlaid his vision, crisp and impossible to ignore.
[Host: Leo Xu]
[Bootlicking Credit Limit: 100 Trillion Lunar Crowns]
[Personal Discretionary Budget: 0]
[Current Pursuit Targets: 0]
[Active Pursuit: None]
He froze.
A system panel. An actual system panel. Like the ones from the wild fiction archives he'd buried himself in back in the Academy. Systems were the stuff of legend: old tech-mech hybrid artifacts left behind from the Pre-Reckoning era, capable of rewriting a person’s reality parameters.
But this one... this one was absurd.
Leo stared at the flashing figures, his pulse climbing.
A hundred trillion?
No, seriously. One hundred trillion Lunar Crowns? That wasn't wealth, that was empire-level liquidity. It would take centuries for a mid-sector banking dynasty to amass even a tenth of that.
He narrowed his eyes at the system details.
[The Bootlicking Credit Limit is a fund established for the host's simp activities. All expenses made for impressing or winning over pursuit targets will be covered. However, personal expenses are not permitted.]
There it was: the catch. He couldn't spend a single unit on himself. Not on food, shelter, clothes, or leisure.
Just on simping.
He felt his throat dry.
[Friendly Reminder: Once a target is successfully conquered—defined by reaching maximum affection and commitment—ten percent of funds spent on that target will convert into the host’s personal assets.]
Leo's expression slowly transformed from skepticism to stunned realization.
So it worked like a transaction loop. The more you spent on simping, the more you could potentially earn back, but only if the target actually fell for you.
He glanced again at the blinking number.
100 trillion.
Even if just ten percent could be reclaimed, that was ten trillion to his name. Ten. Trillion. He could retire on a hover yacht orbiting an artificial moon before his classmates even landed their first internships.
He looked at the glass again. Then drained it in a single long gulp.
“To hell with dignity,” he muttered. “Let the simping commence.”
He stood abruptly.
“I’m heading to the restroom,” he announced casually, waving a hand to his friends.
Inside the neon-lit bathroom, he splashed his face under the auto-sanitizer’s mana spray, watching the flicker of faint blue shimmer across his cheekbones. The mirror stared back with his damp reflection.
Not a hallucination. Not a joke.
This was real.
He smiled.
From this moment forward, his entire trajectory was about to mutate.
Just as he stepped back toward the hallway, a burst of mocking laughter floated his way.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Leo Xu. The simp prince himself!”
A group of girls stood near the glowing bar counter, their outfits designed with psychic-lure threading that shimmered in pulses of red and gold. Each wore heavy glamour spells on their faces, making them look like they belonged in high-tier ad holograms.
Leo recognized a few immediately. Upperclassmen from the Department of Performing Arts. One of them had raven hair, towering heels, and eyes rimmed with silver liner thick enough to serve as a weapon.
“Where’s Bella Zhao?” one of them teased, smirking with predatory interest.
Leo didn’t flinch.
“We broke up. Kindly don’t associate me with her anymore.”
The girls blinked.
That wasn’t the reaction they expected. The Leo they knew would’ve mumbled something awkward and tried to retreat.
But this Leo? He looked them straight in the eyes like he was considering his next purchase.
One girl in particular caught his attention.
Sitting with legs crossed, lips painted in glossy midnight black, was a tall girl nursing a glass of green firebrew. She was ignoring the entire conversation. But her aura was undeniable: magnetic, untouchable, dangerous.
A name surfaced.
Shu Rui.
He walked toward her.
“Shu Rui, mind if I join you for a drink?”
Every head turned. Gasps followed. Even Shu Rui looked up, slowly.
Her eyes, lined in thick lashes, were black holes of attitude.
“Are we close?” she asked, voice bored but sharp.
“Not yet,” Leo said with a grin, “but we will be soon.”
One of the girls laughed.
“Leo Xu, are you trying to simp your way up to our queen now?”
“Talk about aiming high.”
Another leaned in. “You crashed with Bella, and now you’re trying to flirt with the ice empress?”
Shu Rui didn’t break eye contact.
She simply reached for a bottle of liquor, dragged it across the table, and tapped its neck against the surface with two fingers.
“You want to drink with me?” she said, lips curving slightly. “Down this whole bottle first.”
A ding echoed in Leo’s head.
[Name: Shu Rui]
[Affection Level: -100]
[Simp Link Established]
[Mission Objective: Raise Affection to 90 to complete target conquest]
[Begin simp operations immediately.]
Leo cracked his knuckles.
So it begins.
- Writer
