Urban God of Rebate: Infinite Returns Of Women And Powers

A guy he vaguely recognized from his dorm floor jogged up beside him, slightly out of breath like he’d sprinted to catch up. ”Sean! Hey, man, good morning!”

Sean glanced at him. He genuinely couldn’t remember this guy’s name. They’d maybe nodded at each other twice in a hallway, the kind of acknowledgment that existed between people who lived near each other and nothing more.

”Morning,” said Sean.

”Hey, so, I was thinking, we should grab lunch sometime. Get to know each other better. We’re basically neighbors, right?” The guy was talking fast, the words tumbling out, clearly nervous and trying very hard not to look it.

”Maybe,” said Sean. He didn’t slow his pace.

”Cool, cool. I’ll find you,” said the guy. He peeled off toward a different building, practically vibrating with whatever small victory he felt from having spoken to Sean directly.

Sean kept walking.

Phones came out around him as he crossed the quad. Not pointed directly at him, mostly, but angled in his general direction in that way people had when they wanted footage without making it obvious. He could feel the attention like a physical weight pressing against his shoulders.

A girl with blonde hair fell into step beside him, wearing a campus volleyball team hoodie, moving with the kind of effortless confidence that came from being popular long before any of this started.

”Sean Miller,” she said. Not a question.

”That’s my name, what do you want” said Sean.

”I’m Maddie. I’m on the volleyball team.” She kept pace with him easily. ”We have a fundraiser coming up next month, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in being a sponsor. We’re trying to raise money for new uniforms and travel to regionals.” She said it smoothly, rehearsed, like she’d practiced the pitch in front of a mirror that morning.

Sean almost smiled. At least she was direct about it. More than he could say for half the people circling him today.

”Send me the details,” he said. ”I’ll look at it.”

Maddie’s eyes lit up slightly. ”Really?”

”I said I’ll look at it,” said Sean. ”Not that I’m saying yes.”

”Fair,” said Maddie. She handed him a folded flyer from her bag, the kind that looked like she’d been carrying it around all morning hoping for this exact moment. ”My number’s on there too. In case you have questions.”

”Noted,” said Sean.

She peeled off toward the gymnasium, walking with a little extra energy in her step now.

Sean tucked the flyer into his jacket pocket and kept moving toward the lecture hall. His phone buzzed against his hip, probably social media tags, probably someone posting a blurry photo of the Rolls Royce with a caption asking who he was. He didn’t check it.

Two guys near the entrance to the building were having a conversation he caught in passing.

”Bro I heard he bought the building James drove him in. Like he owns the dealership.”

”Nah, I heard he’s some kind of crypto trader. Made like ten million off some coin before it blew up.”

”That’s not even close to what I heard. I heard his family’s old money. Like actual old money. The car’s just a regular Tuesday for him.”

Sean walked past without correcting any of it. Let them speculate. The mystery was more useful right now than the truth could ever be.

—-------

The Classroom

His first class was Introduction to Economics, two hundred seats in a steeply tiered lecture hall. For the first two weeks of the semester he’d sat in the back rows, mostly invisible, occasionally answering a question when nobody else volunteered.

Today was different.

The moment he walked in, the energy in the room shifted. Conversations paused. A few people turned in their seats just to look at him. He scanned the crowd briefly out of habit, half expecting to see red hair somewhere near the front.

She wasn’t there.

He found an empty seat in the middle section, not because he wanted the attention but because the back rows had already filled up with people clearly hoping to claim proximity to him before class even started.

He sat down. Pulled out his notebook. Glanced toward the front rows again where Olivia would normally sit if she had this class, though now that he thought about it, he wasn’t entirely sure she had this exact section. They’d talked about a lot of things at dinner. He couldn’t remember if her schedule had ever come up specifically.

A guy two seats over leaned in. ”Hey man, mind if I sit closer? I’ve got some questions about the market stuff from last week. Heard you’re sharp with this kind of thing.”

”Sure,” said Sean, only half paying attention. He was still scanning the room, but there were two hundred faces in here and none of them belonged to her.

The guy slid over immediately, already pulling out his notes.

Then Sean saw them.

Rebecca and Anthony walked in together. Rebecca first, scanning the room the way she always did when she entered a space, checking who was watching her. Then she saw Sean.

Her steps faltered for half a second.

Anthony was right behind her. He saw Sean too. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but Sean caught it.

They found seats near the front. Rebecca kept glancing back over her shoulder every few minutes like she couldn’t quite stop herself.

Sean turned his attention back to his notebook and tried to focus, but a small thread of his mind kept tugging at the empty seats near the front where Olivia might have sat. He pulled out his phone discreetly under the desk and typed a quick message.

You have class this morning? Didn’t see you on campus.

He sent it and put the phone away before the professor walked in.

Dr. Whitfield entered a moment later. Older man, mid-fifties, known across campus for being dismissive of freshmen who hadn’t done the reading and unimpressed by nearly everyone who tried to impress him.