Chapter 118: A Price for Everything

Ethan entered Max’s room. The curtains were drawn, and the air was thick with the scent of regret and cheap alcohol. Max was curled up on his side, a pillow muffling his whines.

"Max, buddy. You alive?" Ethan asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Max groaned, slowly removing the pillow. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and his head pulsed with a thousand tiny hammers. "E-Ethan? Oh God, I’m dying. I’ve ruined everything. Don’t look at me."

"Nonsense, Max. You’re just paying the interest on your fun debt."

[MEDICAL NOTE: The human body is a fascinating machine. It can survive fragmentation grenades but is crippled by two glasses of cheap tequila. Priority: Hydration, Electrolytes, and maybe a priest.]

Max sat up slowly. "My God, my head. And my car! My Cayenne! It was at that terrible bar, The Blind Pig. I parked it right outside. It’s probably been stolen by now, or towed!"

"Relax, Max," Ethan reassured him calmly. "It’s fine. My friends, Jason and his crew, picked us up. They secured your Cayenne. It’s safely parked in the university service lot."

Max blinked, confused. "Your... friends? Oh, those big guys? The ones that looked like they eat steel for breakfast? Did they really bring my truck back? Wow. They’re... intense."

"Very intense. Now listen up. We have an emergency," Ethan said, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

Ming, drawn by the commotion and the potential for new gossip, slipped into the room. "What emergency? Is it about Quinn? I think she likes me, Ethan! She was practically floating when I told her I’d talk to her tomorrow!"

"Yes, you two are adorable," Ethan dismissed him quickly, turning back to Max. "Max, you messed up, Ruby is pissed, and she demands restitution."

Max slumped. "I know, I ruined my shot. She’s great, Ethan. She’s funny, sharp, and yeah, she likes nice things. But I like her! If she’s purely materialistic, I don’t want to chase her."

Ethan leaned in, his expression becoming serious. "Max, listen to me. Everyone is materialistic in this life. Everyone is interested. You want Ruby because she’s gorgeous, right? You’d pursue her even if she were poor."

"Well... maybe not

poor

," Max admitted sheepishly. "But yeah, she’s hot."

"Exactly," Ethan said with a snap of his fingers. "You want her body because it’s beautiful and curvy. She wants your money because it’s comfortable and provides security. It’s a beautiful, honest exchange. You want her cunt, she wants your cash. Give her the cash, get the cunt. It’s business."

Ming looked horrified. "Ethan! You can’t say that! That’s so cynical!"

[No, Ming. That’s pure, beautiful capitalism applied to carnal relations. Ethan is a genius. A simple equation: Maturity = Money. The Champion is speaking the truth of the universe!]

"I’m giving him the truth, Ming. Now, Max, Ruby likes Hermès. Go online right now and find a small, classic bag. Get it delivered to the dorm tomorrow morning. Tell her it’s a ’Sorry I was a slob’ gift. That’s your entry ticket."

Max’s eyes widened with comprehension and a flicker of hope. "Hermès... Got it! You’re a savage, Ethan, but thank you! I’m doing it right now!" He grabbed his phone, forgetting his hangover momentarily.

Ming shook his head, still processing Ethan’s harsh dating philosophy. "I still can’t believe how blunt you are. You really don’t care about anything but the exchange."

"I care about results, Ming. Now, since you’re here, let’s talk about women, you idiot," Ethan grinned, nudging Ming. "Since you’re so worried about Ruby’s materialism, let’s talk about bodies. You were there when Hailey and the girls were dancing. What did you think of the merchandise?"

"Hailey is beautiful. She has a killer smile and those bright eyes. Ruby has a great body—curvy and all." Ming then sighed dreamily. "But Quinn... she’s not drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s the most beautiful. She’s serious, smart, and professional. I love that formal look on her."

"Good for you, Ming. Find the one you love," Ethan nodded. "Now, let’s talk about the Koala. Hailey."

"Hailey? Oh, she’s perfect too! But so small, almost petite," Max piped up from his phone, now fully engaged.

"Yeah, I heard that you like them flat as a board, Ethan, is that true? Is that why she’s your type?" Ming teased, a wide grin forming.

Ethan shrugged, a playful spark in his eye. "I wouldn’t turn down a lovely c***. And with that size, she must be incredibly tight. Probably delicious."

All three burst into laughter, the tension completely broken.

"Dude! That is a terrible thing to say!" Max wheezed, clutching his stomach. "But also, hilariously true! I can only imagine!"

"You’re all disgusting!" Ming joked, but his smile was huge.

Ethan leaned back, satisfied with the bonding moment. "I just call it as I see it, boys. Now, Max, go get that Hermès bag. Ming, go text Quinn. I have a more complicated transaction to figure out."

Max was already focused on his phone. "You’re a genius, Ethan! I’ll see you tomorrow."

Ming left, still smiling widely.

Ethan was alone again. He stood by the doorway, his playful mood dissolving quickly.

[That was quite a performance, Champion. So cynical, so pragmatic. It seems you’ve come a long way from the boy who used to believe in fairytales and "true love." I distinctly recall you thinking all that bullshit was real.]

"Yeah, well," Ethan muttered, staring out the window at the quiet campus. "It appears you were right all along, System. Everything is just an exchange."

[Oh? Did Chloe’s departure wound you so deeply that you became a ruthless philosopher? I thought your heart was made of steel and high-speed fiber optics now.]

Ethan didn’t answer immediately. He walked out of Max’s room and back toward his own. He paused at his door, running a hand over the wood.

He stepped inside, closed the door softly, and quickly changed, stripping off his clothes entirely. He lay down naked on his bed, staring up at the ceiling of his dorm room.

"It’s not that," Ethan finally replied, his voice barely a whisper in the silent room. "It’s just that... I genuinely liked her."

[You liked her so much that you’ve slept with every woman you’ve encountered since she left. You even brought the first hooker you fucked home as a trophy. A strange way to show affection for the girl you liked.]

"She is not a trophy," Ethan snapped back, his voice hardening slightly.

[Oh, sure. Not a trophy. Then tell me, why do you keep her in your house? To read you bedtime stories? Or just to keep the trophy shelf from looking empty?]

Ethan closed his eyes, his breathing heavy. He let the System’s cutting sarcasm hang in the air, a constant reminder of the darkness he had chosen.