My Infinite Investment System

Three new pages appeared on the stolen clipboard before breakfast, but an apology did not.

Jun Park slid it through Northstar’s service hatch at six forty, then tried leaving before Ryan opened the panel from inside.

They stared at each other across the narrow opening while rain tapped the exterior loading rail.

The scout wore the same gray hood, exhausted eyes, and route boots repaired with electrical tape, while rain darkened both shoulders of his oversized jacket.

"You took our applicants," he said, holding the hatch open with one foot.

"I returned them," Jun replied, keeping both hands visible beside the board.

"You drew over two applications," Ryan said, turning the damaged pages toward him.

"They blocked a stairwell."

She leaned around him with a coffee cup beneath her nose and said, "He has the social energy of a parking violation."

Jun’s attention moved from the front entrance to the loading rail behind them without settling on either.

His gaze checked both exits one more time before he answered without changing expression.

"Your original floor plan missed the service hatch, the north window barely opens, and the upstairs corridor becomes a trap if the front stairs burn."

Nia took the clipboard from his hand and examined every measurement against the walls around them.

"Seven point four centimeters," she said, placing one fingernail beside his written measurement.

The young man looked offended by the correction and said, "Your frame bends under pressure."

"Seven point four," she repeated without moving the fingernail.

He pulled a pencil from his sleeve and changed the number.

’He accepted criticism from Nia faster than any person alive,’ Ryan thought as gold brightened around the taped boots, ’fear respects bigger fear.’

The system clarified beside him.

[Potential found: Jun Park]

[Rank: F]

[Field aptitude: Route scout]

[Immediate need: Reliable underground navigation]

He opened the hatch wider and said, "Come inside, return every page, then explain why an F-rank scout hacked an observed gate."

The scout stayed outside and asked, "Is this an interview?"

"It became one when you stole the application forms," he replied, pointing toward the missing pages.

"Then no cameras," the applicant said, watching her phone instead of either face.

She turned her phone face down on the bar without being asked and moved it beyond his reach.

"Done."

His shoulders lowered by less than an inch before he stepped through.

The formal questions lasted fourteen minutes before Ryan replaced the form with a blank route grid.

He had cleared nine E-rank routes as an independent scout but failed three formal guild evaluations.

His only suspension came from accessing a sealed transit map during an evacuation without city permission.

His public account, **@doorghost**, contained no face, identifiable voice, private message, or teammate footage.

"Why livestream maps?" he asked, spreading the new floor plan across the recovered bar.

"People die where official cameras stop."

"Why steal them?"

Jun sharpened his pencil with a pocket blade and replied, "Official cameras stop where somebody expensive decided they should."

Mika trapped a quick smile behind her cup while the scout returned his blade to one sleeve.

Nia did not bother trapping hers as she turned the floor plan toward the light.

Ryan studied the system’s hidden need without touching the screen or letting his attention follow the gold.

"Your record says you abandoned a drainage gate three minutes after entry," he said, turning the page away from the others.

The pencil blade stopped.

"Equipment failure," he replied, sharpening the pencil faster.

"Your boots still transmit," Ryan said, pointing toward the intact serial report.

"Then the record is wrong," the scout replied without looking up.

Every exit check stopped.

The young man’s gaze fixed on one knot inside the wooden bar until his breathing became too deliberate.

’He confesses to felonies but lies about fear,’ Ryan thought, turning the clipboard away, ’useful priorities, terrible plan.’

"Northstar has a paid survey contract beneath the eastern tram depot," he said, closing the file, "come show us the record is wrong."

The pencil broke between his fingers and sent the sharpened tip across the floor.

Mika caught it beneath her shoe, then waited for him to look up before sliding the broken piece back.

"The contract can wait," she said, keeping her voice below the repair noise, "but lying about a route gets teammates killed."

Jun retrieved the pencil and replied, "I did not lie about the route."

"You lied about why you left it," she said, setting her coffee away from the paperwork.

His attention moved toward the service hatch again.

She rotated the stolen floor plan and asked, "Can you map this room without using a camera?"

"Already did."

"Prove it," she replied, placing a blank sheet over his drawing.

He drew the bar, stairs, workshop boundary, loading rail, and every exit from memory, including the seven-point-four-centimeter window.

The drawn lines stayed steady until his pencil reached the service hatch near the loading rail.

His pencil paused over that final route long enough for everybody to notice.

"You know where every way out is," he said, comparing both plans, "we need to know what happens when one disappears."

She placed her cup down and asked, "Underground?"

"Two levels, municipal access, no monsters listed."

"No."

The answer came from the applicant before anybody looked at him.

He recovered quickly and added, "I do not work unpaid tests."

He opened the contract board and showed the eight-hundred-dollar route fee beside the municipal seal.

"Equal split after guild costs."

Jun read the number twice.

"When?"

"Now."

The eastern tram depot smelled like brake dust, wet concrete, and old electrical insulation.

A city worker unlocked the maintenance stairs, handed them a cable spool, and said, "Map the lower junctions, mark standing water, return before noon."

Northstar descended in single file.

Nia led with her shield collapsed along one arm while Ryan carried the cable spool behind her.

Mika provided light from a low current between two fingers, and the applicant followed last with the clipboard against his chest.

The first underground level remained wide enough for service carts.

He corrected three city markers, found a blocked runoff pipe, and moved with quiet certainty between branching tunnels.

At the second stairwell, the maintenance door closed behind them.

Its automatic lock struck with a heavy metal clunk that traveled down the concrete stairwell.

The scout stopped on the third step with one taped boot suspended above the next marker.

"Door stays unlocked," he said, turning before the mechanism finished engaging.

He turned toward the sealed panel and said, "It locked automatically, the city worker controls it remotely."

"Release it," Jun said, pulling the handle once.

"Signal is weak below street level."

"Open it now," he repeated as his other hand joined the first.

The scout climbed two steps, pulled the handle, then pulled again with both hands.

His breath shortened.

The clipboard slipped beneath one arm and struck the concrete step beside his boot.

She dimmed the light and said, "Jun, look at me."

He never found her face.

His attention jumped between the sealed door, concrete walls, and the dark stairwell below.

"I said open it."

Nia moved away from the lower landing, giving him the entire width of the stairs.

He placed the cable spool down without approaching and said, "Nobody is making you descend."

His hands stayed visible beside the spool as he added, "The upper route remains behind you, and we wait until the door opens."

"Do not narrate the room."

"Then tell me what helps."

Jun pressed one palm against the metal door and forced air through his nose.

"A route I can verify."

The answer turned the system gold.

[Verified growth barrier: Navigation panic after route loss]

[Eligible support: Pathfinder Boots]

[Function: Haptic return route independent of sight, signal, or public grid]

[Offer support?]

Ryan looked at the electrical tape holding the applicant’s right sole together.

The infinite fund could buy certainty for somebody who had built his entire life around exits.

Before he could speak, the stairwell lights failed.

Darkness swallowed every marker, and Jun’s breathing broke apart above them.