Infinite Cashback System

Chapter 323: 323 | Full Physical Completion [GT BONUS]

The microwave clock read 3:14. Jordan watched the digits flip from 3:13, the harsh green light cutting through the dark apartment.

Chloe slept sprawled completely across him. Her cheek rested flat on his sternum. One bare leg pinned his hip to the mattress, and every few minutes, her fingers spasmed against his ribs—hunting for a grip in some unseen dream. Strands of her black and blue hair dragged across his mouth. He tasted shampoo. He left it there. Shifting his weight meant waking her up, and waking her meant explaining why he was wired on two hours of sleep without a single coherent excuse.

The real answer burned a hole in his pocket.

He pulled his phone free. The screen cast a blue glare over the quilt, displaying the exact same text he’d memorized three hours ago. If the System sold a Latin translation pack, it would probably charge a hundred tickets just to mock his abysmal language skills.

Objective Three: Engage in an intimate encounter with the target. Full physical completion required.

Full physical completion. Some digital algorithm buried deep inside the System’s core had sifted through the entire English dictionary and selected the exact phrasing of a used car warranty.

Right below it, a hundred and fifty thousand dollars capped off the page.

Jordan ran the concept through his head again. It always hit the same brick wall.

He wanted the payback. He didn’t need a beachside stroll to figure out his moral compass on this. On Christmas Day, he stood in the freezing asphalt of a Newport love hotel parking lot and watched Eliza plunge her tongue into Cameron Mitchell’s mouth. His own hands had shaken so hard he dropped his keys. Then he drove home to an apartment reeking of stale pepperoni grease and degraded into a sub-human shut-in for two weeks.

He wanted to wreck her. He wanted her sitting in a sterile campus study room, crunching the math on exactly how much social capital she threw away, choking on the regret.

Yes to revenge. Stamped and approved.

But fucking her involved a massive logistical hurdle.

The mechanics weren’t the issue. The System’s Ceaseless Discharge and Tune Up traits handled his stamina with the restraint of a runaway freight train. His body could hold up through whatever duration the task demanded. The problem sat squarely in the physical contact itself.

He’d have to wrap his hands around the exact same waist he used to worship while she texted Cameron under the table on dates he paid for. He’d have to manufacture groans. He’d have to pin her to the sheets. He’d have to play the role all the way to the finish line, let her think she’d won something back, and then stare dead center into her eyes when she begged for a relationship and shoot her down.

The revenge sounded amazing on paper. Lying here in the dark at three in the morning, Jordan ran the execution through his head frame by frame. The reality just seemed aggressively exhausting. It required acting. It required touching someone who treated him like a walking ATM for two months. It required faking intimacy with a person he’d permanently written off.

Chloe previously cleared him for the operation. Hell, she cleared him and then effectively invoiced him for it. It was the purest distillation of Chloe Kim he had ever witnessed. Watching her negotiate a hit job on his ex hotwired his brain so fast he nearly glossed over the part where she mentioned holding a blackmail file on Eliza. She delivered the information like she was ordering takeout.

Her permission required signing a metaphorical contract. Jordan read the clauses. He agreed to them. She drew clear boundaries around what counted as acceptable, what crossed into actual cheating, and where his operational authority stopped. The contract existed because Chloe operated her life like a risk assessment spreadsheet. She gave him the green light because the math checked out.

That just left the actual execution. He had to walk into study room 3B tomorrow at 2:00 PM, unzip his pants, and act like a functioning human being.

Jordan adjusted his hip a fraction of an inch.

Chloe’s fingers immediately clamped into his side.

"Pulse is running fast," she grumbled straight into his pec. She kept her eyes glued shut.

"Standard issue in here."

"It’s jumping at ninety. You idle at eighty flat when you sleep." She slid her bare palm straight up his chest, flattening it right over his sternum to trap the heartbeat. "Go to sleep."

"Trying."

"You’re tracking invisible spreadsheets." Her thumb traced his collarbone. "You’ve been obsessing over a flowchart since one a.m. Your breathing patterns give you away."

"You were literally unconscious."

"I sleep on top of you. I track your vitals by default."

Jordan checked the crown of her head. A vibrant blue streak slashed a line across his bare skin. He debated spilling the entire Eliza situation right then. But Chloe let out a soft groan, shoved her nose harder into his ribs, and dropped back into a deep REM state before he formed the first syllable. Jordan stayed awake until the windows bled into gray dawn.

At 6:41, the implicit Morning Person trait pinged his brain. He woke up violently alert with the unearned energy of a caffeinated toddler. Jordan hated the sensation immediately. He scrounged together maybe two solid hours of rest, yet his muscles functioned flawlessly. The System effectively stamped him fully operational. He couldn’t even use physical exhaustion as an excuse to dodge the day’s looming trainwreck.

Chloe sat up beside him. Her black hair jutted out in ruined angles. The neck of his stolen waffle-knit henley slouched completely off her left shoulder, exposing a sharp collarbone. She fixed him with a deadpan stare—the exact identical look she deployed when running analytics on her Calypso revenue.

"You stayed awake."

"I slept."

"You grabbed two hours."

"Two premium, high-yield hours."

She swung her bare leg over his waist and dropped her weight directly onto his pelvis. Jordan’s entire nervous system short-circuited. She radiated heat from the thick blankets. The borrowed henley pooled up around her ribs, confirming she didn’t wear a single thing underneath. The absolute lack of a cotton barrier became glaringly obvious the second she anchored her thighs around his waist and ground her damp center into him with a deliberate, testing roll.

"Mmn." A sharp, wet gasp punched out of her throat as she found the rigid friction waiting for her. She dragged her plush lower lip between her teeth. "Right. Good morning to you too."

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