When The System Spoils You For No Reason-Chapter 55 - Fifty Five

"Life is basically just a series of problems. The question is, can you enjoy solving them?" — Gintoki

---

A soft, knowing snicker broke the quiet of the spacious sitting room. The trio and Michael were huddled together on the plush sectional, their postures a picture of poorly feigned nonchalance as they watched the scene playing out before them with intense, undivided interest.

The air felt charged—thick with a silent, flowing tension.

Zeke, Yeon, and Makima sat across from them in a separate seating area. Yeon was sprawled luxuriously across a deep velvet couch, her attention wholly absorbed by the anime glowing on her tablet, seemingly indifferent to the subtle currents running through the room.

"Hey, Makima," Zeke began, his voice a casual drawl that cut through the quiet hum of the television.

"You really enjoyed yourself this while, didn’t you?"

"Hehe." He scratched his chin, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "It’s not really that big of a deal, ya know."

"I know," Makima replied, her tone smooth and professional. "If it were, I’d have come sooner. The guild has a proposition for you."

"Oh." The trio’s expressions shifted instantly, their playful voyeurism replaced by sharp attention. Kai, however, couldn’t quite suppress the gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

"What does the guild want?" Jude asked, his voice measured. "We’ve completed our year of punishment."

"It’s an SS-Ranked dungeon—"

"It’s not," Yeon cut in without looking up, her voice flat. "Zeldris is back. He can solo the dungeon. Even if he can’t, he has the personnel to manage it." She finally glanced over, hazel eyes sharp. "The punishment is over. Unless Aethelgard or the Council sends a direct order." She pointed a deliberate finger at Michael, who offered a bland, innocent smile in return. "Their job is to babysit him—that’s what the past year was for. White Fang won’t have its members working as busboys for Avalon."

"What she said," Zeke chimed in, jerking a thumb toward Yeon.

"Zeldris came back from the Tower?" he added, brow lifting slightly.

"Do you all have homesickness?" he teased, leaning back in his chair. "Two years and you’re already back."

"Not quite two years," Jude corrected, falling easily into the rhythm. "Approximately a year and nine months."

"What he said," Zeke nodded.

"Try clearing the Tower," Yeon shot back, a note of weary experience in her voice. "Zeldris has been stuck on the fourth trial for years, and I only just reached the third floor. It’s not something you brute-force."

"Excuses of the weak," Zeke replied, grin widening.

"Ahem." Makima cleared her throat, her gaze settling on Zeke. "So your answer is no?"

Zeke held up a hand, cutting off the side conversation. "Tell Zeldris that if he wants to fight, he should find a better way to go about it." He stood, the movement fluid and final. "I’m in my lazy era." He crossed to the grand oak door and swung it open—an unmistakable cue.

Makima rose gracefully, smoothing the front of her tailored suit. The click of her heels marked each step across the marble floor.

"Ms. Makima," Zeke called after her, his voice dropping into a softer, more charming register. "We should have dinner sometime. I know a good cook."

"I’m a very busy person," she replied, pausing in the doorway. The evening light stretched a long shadow behind her. "Especially too busy to keep track of dozens of others."

"A rumor," Zeke said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock solemnity. "All of it. They aim to besmirch my name."

She smiled—a small, polished curve of her lips that didn’t reach her eyes. "Mister Zeke, you just rejected a deal with my guild. Going out with you would send mixed signals." She reached out and patted his chest once, the gesture both familiar and dismissive. "Maybe next time." She turned and walked away, her figure dissolving into the evening light.

’Play me Juice WRLD.’

{Got it.}

Zeke closed the door. The solid thud sealed off the outside world. He walked back into the heart of the house to find the trio and Michael engaged in a transparently poor attempt to look busy—Jude examining a controller with absurd scrutiny, Aaron suddenly fascinated by a ceiling panel, Kai with his eyes shut and mouth slightly open. It was inevitable. They were superhuman, and the room’s acoustics had carried every word.

"Unlucky," Yeon’s voice drifted from the couch. She’d set her tablet aside, offering him a teasing, lopsided smile. "Maybe next time."

"That’s what the doctor told your parents when you were born," Zeke shot back without missing a beat, dropping into an armchair.

"Speaking of parents," he continued, turning his metallic gaze to Jude. "How does it feel knowing you’re adopted? Your father tested out another family, and both came back defective. Honestly, I think he took ’better luck next time’ to an art form."

"Bang, bang," Michael laughed—bright and performative against the trio’s collective deadpan.

"Really, bro?" Aaron, Jude, and Kai said in flat, perfect unison.

"What?" Michael shrugged, innocent smile firmly in place. "It was funny."

{You have a call.}

’Who?’

{Geezer.}

’Hehe. Answer it.’

Zeke pushed to his feet. "I have a call," he announced, moving toward the staircase. Halfway up, he abandoned walking entirely—his body lifting effortlessly into the air, the Free Flier trait making it as casual as breathing—and floated the rest of the way to his room.

...

"Yo, I’m in your continent. I need a place to crash."

Anton’s voice crackled through the line, carried on a background hum of wind and distant city noise.

"Oh, no problem," Zeke replied, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I’ll send you the address. Visitors are always welcome." He ended the call.

"Bwahahaha!"

{Visitors are always welcome,} Zero echoed, his digital tone saturated with sarcasm.

"Of course," Zeke said, eyes gleaming. "I welcome this type of chaos."

...

"Hey, guys," Zeke announced as he descended the stairs—floating the last few steps to land softly in the foyer. "We’ll be having a visitor soon. You all know him. The sole exception being you, Yeon."

"Do whatever you want," Yeon murmured from her cocoon of cushions, not looking up. "Better that than to be told ’next time.’"

"Don’t lose motivation," Zeke returned. "Your father didn’t lose motivation after the doctor broke the news when you were born."

"Heh. Touché." Yeon conceded, burrowing deeper into the couch and refocusing on her screen.

Across the room, the trio and Michael had settled into a racing game, its vivid colors painting their focused faces. Michael had integrated seamlessly—already the second-best player, sitting just behind Jude.

...

"Never mind, Maxim. I’ll get the door," Zeke said, waving off the butler, who stood at respectful attention in the hallway. He crossed to the front door, a broad, anticipatory grin already on his face.

"Hello, geezer."

"Let’s go to the Tower," Anton said the moment the door opened, stepping inside without ceremony.

As he crossed the threshold, the warm ambient light of the foyer fell across him, and all other activity in the house ceased. Every eye turned.

"..."

Anton’s gaze swept the room. He found the trio and offered a tight smile. Then his eyes landed on the female figure sprawled across the distant couch, and his blood went cold. Yeon. A visceral, time-worn instinct screamed at him to turn and run, but he clamped down on it. This is another life. She hasn’t beaten the hell out of me. Yet.

His eyes continued moving and found the middle-aged man standing quietly by the kitchen archway—Maxim. A jolt of pure shock ran through him before he smoothed his expression back into something passable.

He turned his attention toward the trio, his feet carrying him forward in a semblance of normalcy. And then, sitting among them, he saw him.

All the color left Anton’s face. His smile vanished. His feet seemed to buckle for a split second. In one fluid, barely-contained motion, he spun on his heel and walked straight back toward the door.

"Hey—aren’t you the Mad Dog’s business partner? The Aurelian who left Enel?"

Michael’s voice, light and curiously friendly, cut through the silence. The trio had already begun rising to greet their old companion.

"Say hi to your friends before you go," Zeke said, deceptively mild, as he settled a firm and unyielding hand on Anton’s shoulder. The grin he’d been holding back finally broke through—sharp and full of mischief.

"Hehe—hey, guys. Been a while," Anton managed, voice strained, as he mechanically dapped up Jude, Aaron, and Kai in rapid succession before making another beeline for the exit.

"Forgotten your former hostage already?" Michael said, rising from his chair. He walked toward Anton with unhurried calm. "And you mentioned the Tower—let’s hear it. I’ve been tasked with learning from Zeke, and it’s well past time I went in myself." He set his hand on Anton’s opposite shoulder, completing the trap, and smiled brilliantly. "So. Let’s talk."

Anton returned a strained, knowing smile.

He stood utterly still and said nothing. The moment he’d spotted Michael, he’d tried to activate a teleportation skill—but Zeke had already, quietly, woven Reality Anchor through the vicinity, sealing every spatial exit shut.

Bastard.