Chapter 65: Top Tier Yapper!

"Yes," Amanda said, her voice dropping into a rare, quiet moment of dead seriousness as she looked straight into her camera. "I’m in. Absolutely, one hundred percent in."

The moment the words left her mouth, a sudden, blinding flash of translucent gold light flooded my vision, completely overriding the glow of my triple curved monitors.

[Target Investment Confirmed & Locked!]

[Target Name: Amanda (Luna_Sky)]

[Potential Rating: 9.5]

[Investment Milestones Required for Complete ’Glow-Up’ Activation:]

Tier-1 Hardware & Facility Upgrade ($150,000): Supply target with a state-of-the-art competitive streaming setup, high-speed dedicated fiber lines, and custom ergonomic gaming architecture.

Esports Brand Creation & Team Formation ($500,000): Register an independent esports organization, hire top-tier analysts, and secure elite non-predatory roster talent around target.

Tournament Entrance & Global Launch ($1,000,000): Buy out prime global tournament seedings, secure top-tier PR coverage, and launch a multi-platform media campaign.

[Calculated Return Potential: 50x Cashback Multiplier + Exclusive Gaming Industry Stat Upgrades + Instant Global Reputation Surge upon First Championship Title.]

A cold, electric grin spread across my face as I scanned the system panel.

"Great," I said into the mic, my tone smooth and absolute as the golden text faded into the background. "First thing on the list: we are replacing that potato setup of yours tomorrow morning."

Amanda blinked, her flustered expression returning instantly. "Wait—tomorrow?! But I have a fluid mechanics lecture at ten—I mean, obviously, you don’t care about fluid mechanics, why did I bring up engineering again?! Forget I said that! What do you mean tomorrow?!"

"Get some sleep, Amanda," I chuckled, tossing my headset onto the desk and standing up from the leather chair. "Your real training starts soon."

I pulled on a clean shirt the next morning, my mind already running through the checklist for Amanda’s hardware upgrades, before making my way down to the studio wing.

As I walked down the hallway, a familiar, raw acoustic track was drifting through the heavy wooden doors—playing on a continuous, hypnotic loop.

I pushed the door open to find Ruby sitting at the main mixing console, leaning back in the oversized leather chair with her eyes closed, completely lost in the sound. The track playing through the high-end monitors was pure, unrefined perfection. It was the dry studio take from yesterday—no heavy pitch correction, no aggressive compression, just her soaring voice carried by a deep, driving bassline and an acoustic guitar.

When she heard the door click, Ruby opened her eyes, jumping up with an ecstatic, radiant smile.

"Good morning!" she beamed, her energy practically buzzing through the room. "I’ve been sitting here listening to this for two hours straight. I can’t stop."

"I can tell," I chuckled, leaning against the edge of the desk. "It sounds incredible, Ruby."

"It’s not even fully mastered or produced yet, but... honestly?" Ruby paused, looking down at the sound waves on the screen, a rare moment of pure artistic certainty settling over her face. "I kind of love it like this. It feels real. I was thinking... what if we just post it as is? I know mastering gives things that commercial polish, but I don’t want to drown the emotion in heavy, over-processed production. I want people to hear the raw song."

She looked up at me, waiting to see if I’d push back like every corporate suit before me.

"It’s your project, Ruby," I said smoothly, meeting her eyes with zero hesitation. "If that’s the vision you want, that’s exactly what we’ll roll with. You own the music. I’ll call Joe Jay right now and tell him we’re releasing the dry master."

A huge wave of relief and excitement washed over her face, her eyes shining. "Thank you, Ethan. Seriously."

I pulled out my phone to dial Joe, making a mental note to get her release scheduled today. With Ruby’s raw debut locked in and Amanda’s massive gaming upgrade on deck for this afternoon, the momentum was building fast.

I headed down to the underground garage, stepping into the private elevator that glided smoothly back to the lower levels. The pristine chrome doors opened up to reveal my car collection resting under the sleek recessed floor lights, but my target for today was the twin-turbo supercar.

I popped the door open, dropped into the low-slung, customized leather driver’s seat, and fired up the engine. A deep, twin-turbo roar echoed through the subterranean space before the massive reinforced vault doors opened at the end of the underground driveway, leading straight up to the street level.

Once out on the open coastal highway, I pulled up the GPS coordinates Amanda had sent over earlier. She had given me the name of a quiet, low-key student café near her campus—the kind of place where people dragged out their cheap drip coffees for four hours while staring at laptop screens.

I tapped the location on the dash console, watching the blue route map map out a quick fifteen-minute drive.

I leaned back, resting one wrist on the wheel as the twin-turbos whistled under the hood. Amanda was expecting a simple hardware discussion, but she had no idea what kind of wave was about to hit her setup.

Ten minutes later, the deep, guttural rumble of the supercar began turning heads as I glided down the quiet street lined with campus coffee shops, zeroing in on the exact café on my screen.

I parked the supercar right along the curb outside, the twin-turbo engine letting out one final, low purr before cutting off. Unsurprisingly, a few students sitting on the patio immediately turned their heads, staring at the million-dollar vehicle like an alien ship had just landed on their campus street.

I pushed the heavy door open, stepped out, and walked straight into the quiet café.

Scanning the room, it didn’t take long to spot her. Sitting in a small corner booth was a girl dressed in an oversized tracksuit with her heavy backpack slumped beside her on the seat. Amanda.

The moment she saw me walk in, her eyes widened slightly, and she gave a small, hesitant wave. I walked over, pulling out the chair opposite her, and sank down into the booth.

Up close, the hyper-energetic, blabbing girl who had rambled about fluid mechanics and jet-engine office PCs on Discord last night was nowhere to be seen. Sitting in front of me was a shockingly quiet, slightly flushed girl whose social battery seemed to have completely drained the second real-life eye contact became required.

She fidgeted with the zip of her tracksuit jacket, her gaze darting from my face down to her cold coffee cup, then toward the window where my car was parked outside, and finally back to me.

"Hey," she muttered softly, her voice dropping into that quiet, timid register she’d used during our first five minutes in the pre-game lobby.

I leaned back against the leather booth, a dry, amused smirk touching my lips.

"Where’s the girl who wouldn’t stop blabbing about potato setups and engineering classes?" I asked smoothly. "Don’t tell me seeing an investor in person drained all your social energy."

Amanda’s cheeks instantly flushed bright red. She opened her mouth to argue, realized she had no defense, and awkwardly buried her face in her hands with a quiet, embarrassed groan.