My Infinite Investment System

Chapter 7: Wrong Delivery

The auction house booked B-rank deterrence, then sent over a contract making Mika personally responsible for every theft, injury, and damaged artifact inside the ballroom.

"They bought my presence and one demonstration," she said, jaw tight as she adjusted the guild jacket over the regulator lead, "so remove the miracles, move half the fee upfront, then make them ask before they photograph my left side."

Ryan rewrote the liability clause while the organiser offered tagged posts in place of the remaining deposit.

"Exposure is a marketing deliverable," Mika said over speakerphone, entirely pleasant about it, "deposits use currency, though you’re welcome to purchase both if your budget developed ambition overnight."

Payment landed ten minutes after that.

His banking app previewed the deposit and suggested opening a vacation fund.

’It ignored the financial collapse entirely,’ Ryan thought, ’then celebrates three hundred dollars.’

"Your bank understands content strategy," Mika replied when he showed her, "nobody posts the middle."

The preview filled a hotel ballroom with sealed dungeon salvage and wealthy collectors, behind a velvet rope that meant nothing whatsoever to anybody with a core.

Mika greeted the cameras like her repossession had been a planned season finale, while Ryan tracked the private number behind the public B-rank image.

She had one safe demonstration bolt and one emergency Lightning Step, with nothing at all left after either of them.

A lift crew came in during the second rotation, pushing an equipment case toward the restricted aisle while two others staged an argument near security.

The crowd turned toward the raised voices, so Ryan watched the men who stayed coordinated instead.

One kept a hand inside his jacket, while the other steered the case without once glancing down, which meant he already knew exactly what it weighed.

"Case team moving east," Ryan said into her earpiece, keeping his voice conversational, "the rear worker has a disruption tool sized for display locks."

"You could just say somebody’s stealing things, like a normal manager," she replied, smile still aimed at a collector.

"The organiser paid for detailed reporting," he said, watching the case.

Ryan crossed opposite her, used the distracted guests as moving cover, then kept her attack lane open.

The pressure in his chest caught the rear worker’s elbow opening before the tool cleared the jacket, so he kicked a velvet-rope stand under the equipment case.

Its wheels hit the base and turned sideways, which trapped the lead thief behind his own cargo.

Mika spent the Lightning Step as the disruption tool came up, arriving inside the man’s reach with pink current wrapped around two fingers.

One precise arc opened his grip, letting her catch the weapon before it touched the carpet.

She raised it toward the nearest camera with a sponsor-ready smile.

{she caught it mid air. mid. air.}

Applause spread before security understood a robbery had failed, and the organiser picked the safer narrative by announcing an unscheduled demonstration.

"The audience expects a finish," Mika said through his earpiece, breathing carefully.

"Grounding rod behind the west display, eleven metres," he replied, voice level.

Her only bolt crossed the ballroom in a razor-straight pink line and struck the rod while guards dragged the lift crew down under a hundred phones.

Mika stayed flawless through every photograph afterward, though Ryan saw the tremor start in her left hand before the first flash.

"The security demonstration concludes under the performance rider, and Ms. Santos has another engagement," he told the organiser, walking over with their revised schedule already open.

"She just created this preview’s defining moment," the organiser said, eyes bright, "another twenty minutes would multiply the coverage."

"Then the footage has measurable value," Ryan replied, showing him three inquiries from clients who assumed the whole thing had been staged, "so purchase the extension, or approve our exit with a performance bonus."

The organiser paid, which turned an attempted robbery into Mika’s best contract since the injury.

Before they reached the service doors, the cleanest recording crossed thirty thousand views. One angle showed her arriving as a line of pink light.

Another caught Ryan redirecting the equipment case half a second before the weapon appeared.

{the suit moved first?? rewind it. he moved first}

{strategist arc unlocked}

"You realise they can see you planning now," Mika said, tipping her phone toward him.

"Good, because invisible competence gets terrible rates," he replied, without looking up.

"That sounded dangerously close to confidence," she said, with something almost approving in it.

He walked her through the service corridor once the cameras lost their angle, where she leaned back against the elevator wall and let the tremor finish.

"One Step and one bolt," she said after six controlled breaths, "exactly what we priced."

"Your pathway needs recovery before another discharge," he replied, watching her hand.

"I know, so keep that voice inside your mouth until we reach the car," she said, eyes shut.

The thing waited for the elevator doors to close before it assembled the result.

[Investment Milestone Verified: Paid Hunter Contract]

[Target Returns Retained: Income / Brand Recovery / Output Data]

[Bonus Reward Generated: Weapon Enhancement]

Ryan expected it to reinforce her gear, since every spectacular thing in that ballroom had been hers, and then the routing line failed instead.

[Party Equipment Allocation: Unavailable]

[Reward Recipient Conflict]

[Adaptive Routing Initiated]

A matte-black baton hit the corridor floor beside his shoe, without any light, sound, or visible delivery mechanism at all.

Mika looked at it, then at him, then back at it.

"Did you just drop something in a luxury hotel," she said, "or did somebody drop something at you?"

’The second one,’ Ryan thought, ’and I have no way to say that out loud.’

"Somebody’s idea of a bonus," he replied, keeping his expression as flat as he could.

"Whose," she said, not really asking.

"That’s the same answer as last time," he said, meeting her eyes.

"It’s a worse answer every time you give it," Mika replied, though she crouched down beside him anyway.

The object generated a courier notification listing a parking structure as the supplier address, while the contact number reached a mattress-store voicemail promising weekend savings.

Ryan tried to send it back.

[Return Authorization: Administrator Approval Required]

[Administrator Connection: Pending]

"No luck," he said, jaw tightening as he wrapped the baton inside an event banner.

"Then tell whoever it is that the wrong adult received my gift," Mika replied, "I’d also like the matching unit."

Back at Northstar, the baton drank the office light and refused every manual release he could think of.

Its courier record survived supplier registries and certification checks, despite belonging to no company that had ever existed.

"Whatever produces these can produce paperwork good enough for routine review," Ryan said, frowning at the registry page.

"That’s useful right up until an auditor gets curious," Mika replied, dry.

"Flawless records attract curiosity faster than imperfect ones," he said, turning it over again.

She transferred his fee at the desk, which pushed his balance above emergency arithmetic for the first week in a while.

His bank launched confetti and upgraded its suggestion to an international vacation.

"Three hundred dollars has given it dangerous confidence," Ryan said, with the first real smile in two days.

"Let it dream, because one of us should," she replied, voice softer than usual.

He squeezed the baton and tried another seam, though nothing moved at all.

Then he stopped experimenting, because he was picturing the disruption tool coming up toward her again, in a version of that ballroom with no clear lane and no Lightning Step left to solve it.

The helplessness annoyed him considerably more than the sealed weapon did, so his grip stopped being curious and became a demand.

Black metal exploded out of his hand in telescoping sections and drove a spear the length of the office before either of them could move.

The point punched through a crate of surviving glassware and stopped a handspan from the wall, leaving Ryan trapped between the desk, the broken crate, then a closed door.

Nothing offered instructions, and the weapon refused to retract.

Mika examined the quivering point, then looked at him with undisguised satisfaction.

"My enhancement was delivered to the wrong adult," she said, with an expression of pure delight, "your training starts at dawn."