Liora didn't sleep that night.
Not out of fear, not anymore. But from something else—a strange kind of adrenaline. The kind you get not after surviving danger, but after realizing the world might finally be listening.
The system had been silent for hours, as if letting her breathe.
Then, just past dawn, it returned.
[New Investment Tier Unlocked: $10,000]
[Project Tier: National Policy Pilot — Education, Health, Environment]
[Suggested Allocation: GreenCampus Initiative – Multi-region Educational Reform]
[Expected Impact: 78 schools, 24 districts, 3 pilot cities]
[Advisory: Media attention inevitable]
Liora stared at the screen.
She wasn't sure what was more surreal—the fact that she had access to this much influence, or the fact that the system never asked where she *got* the money from.
Until now, she hadn't asked either.
But today, she did.
"System," she whispered aloud. "Where is this money even coming from?"
A pause. Then—
[User Inquiry Registered: Source of Capital]
Another pause.
[Response: All funds originate from legal and pre-designated channels allocated to the CivitasNet program.]
[Breakdown of Source Streams:]
- [Global Passive Investment Returns: AI-optimized trading portfolios on green-tech indexes]
- [Legacy Capital Pools: Assigned via dormant philanthropic trusts of anonymous contributors]
- [Inherited Trust: Reclaimed, unused succession funds from unregistered heirs of dormant aristocratic families]
Liora blinked.
"You're telling me… I'm basically spending old money, green investments, and ghost heir funds?"
[Summary: Correct.]
She stared into space. "And this is all *legal*?"
[Status: Fully audited, pre-approved by transworldal ethical review boards. No illicit sources. No laundering. No repayment.]
Levi, now fully awake and brushing his hair back, leaned in. "Did the system just tell you you're using ethical billionaire money from dead people and eco-funds?"
"Pretty much," she said.
He whistled. "Alright then, GlassWings. Ready to spend the next zero?"
She took a breath.
And tapped.
[Transaction Confirmed: $10,000 Deployed]
[Project: GreenCampus National Reform Launch]
[Impact Tier: Level 4 — Educational Infrastructure & Sustainable Curriculum Activation]
[Public Echo: Activated — Major Media Outlets Engaged]
[Bonus: 300 Civic Momentum Points | Influence Rank Upgraded]
Her phone exploded with notifications.
StreamTube—breaking interviews with three principals who'd been notified of surprise grants.
Facehub—trending list: "#GlassWings #EducationForChange #NationSeed"
Twittor—"She started with $10. Now she's changing how kids learn science. Who is she?"
HotThread had a new pinned post titled:
**The Legend of GlassWings: How One Ghost Built A Future**
Liora refreshed the CivitasNet interface. Her dashboard was now surrounded by glowing nodes—past projects now forming a visible grid.
They were starting to connect.
A knock at the door.
Again.
Levi opened it.
This time, it wasn't a drone.
It was a courier, in full suit, holding an envelope.
"To the anonymous identity known as GlassWings," he said. "This is from the Public Communication Review Board."
Liora frowned, stepping forward to take it.
The letter read:
> You are respectfully invited to appear as an anonymous expert contributor in the Civic Futures Summit, to advise on decentralized investment impact models. You may attend via avatar interface or encrypted feed. We thank you for your contributions to civic progress.
She folded the letter carefully.
"They want you as a *model* now," Levi said.
"No," she murmured. "They want me as a theory."
The system pinged again.
[New Title Achieved: Civic Strategist]
[Network Weave Expanded — Global Interest Nodes Forming]
[Next Investment Threshold: $100,000]
She didn't react right away.
Instead, she stared at the glowing numbers.
Ten thousand used to be a fantasy. Now it was a click.
She turned to Levi. "You really think I'm not going too fast?"
He shrugged. "I think the world's been going slow. Maybe you're just catching up for it."
Liora looked back at her screen.
And for the first time, she smiled without hesitation.
Later that evening, Liora finally allowed herself to open the direct message inbox attached to her anonymous profile.
It was overflowing.
Most were the usual: admiration, curiosity, skepticism, fan art, even someone claiming to be her long-lost cousin.
But one message made her stop.
> "Hi. I don't know if you'll read this. My name's Clara. I live in one of the rural towns your Garden Project reached.
> My little brother used to go to bed hungry three nights a week.
> Today, he came home from school holding a bag of cherry tomatoes he helped grow. He was so proud.
> I don't know who you are. I don't care.
> I just want you to know—he thinks you're magic.
> And maybe you are."
Liora didn't move for a long time.
Then she wiped her eyes, just once, and replied:
> "Tell him he's the magic. I just helped him remember."
She didn't send anything else.
No profile. No signature.
Just that.
The system chimed softly.
[User Sentiment Detected: Stable Emotional Uplift]
[System Confidence Adjustment: Favorable]
[Forecast: Public Impact Trajectory on Track]
Then a second message arrived—this one from the system itself.
[Upcoming Tier Preview: $100,000 Investment Class]
[Notice: Cross-border attention expected]
[Forecasted Impact: Media diplomacy, NGO tracking, intelligence traffic review likely]
[Advisory: Prepare optional protocols for avatar protection and narrative shaping]
Liora read it twice.
She didn't know what "intelligence traffic" meant exactly, but she didn't like the sound of it.
Still, her hands didn't tremble.
She set the phone down.
And turned to Levi. "Next level's going to be… different."
He raised an eyebrow. "Bigger?"
She nodded. "Louder. Riskier. But maybe… necessary."
He smiled. "Then I guess it's a good thing you're not alone."
Liora looked at the screen one more time, then closed her eyes.
$10 had planted a seed.
$100 had watered it.
$1,000 helped it bloom.
Now, with $10,000, she was feeding futures.
And she hadn't even started yet.
That night, while Levi snored softly from the couch, Liora sat alone by the window.
She watched the streetlamps flicker outside, the faint orange glow pooling onto the cracked pavement like spilled tea. Her phone rested in her lap, the system's interface still open, softly humming with data streams and impact projections.
And still, part of her hesitated.
Because this was no longer just helping small inventors, or students in a dusty classroom. This was policy. This was systems change.
This was the kind of thing people fought over.
She leaned her forehead against the glass, letting the coolness anchor her.
"System," she whispered, "will this get dangerous?"
A pause.
[User Concern Registered]
Then:
[High-impact social change often incurs resistance. However, no classified assets have been deployed.
Surveillance risk: Moderate
Civilian threat: Low
Political friction: Increasing.]
Liora didn't flinch. But her grip tightened slightly around the phone.
The system continued.
[You may choose to slow progression. Adjust doworld cadence to delay escalation.
Alternatively: Prepare strategic partnerships to buffer social pressure.]
"Partnerships?" she murmured.
[Examples: Credible NGO proxies, independent journalist agreements, decentralized PR networks.]
The idea made sense. So did the risk.
Still, something in her burned brighter than fear.
Because cherry tomatoes in a boy's hand still mattered more.
Because she was starting to believe something wild—
That maybe one person *could* shift the weight of the world.
Just a little.
One click at a time.