He stared at the numbers again.

"Two MILLION crowns!! Dayum! I am gonna eat so good now! I'm gonna eat steak for breakfast, steak for lunch, and a giant, juicy steak for dinner!"

Obviously, it was only the old Alexander, the spoiled rich kid, who wasn't all that money-hungry. He never had to worry about cash, so who cared?

But the new Alex? Oh, this Alex loved money. He needed money.

This new Alex was basically just a street rat.

Well, okay, a street rat minus the street. He did have a home, and he did have parents in this new world. So, that was a plus.

But when it came to his "monetary value"? When you looked inside his actual pockets? He was worse than a beggar. A beggar at least had a few coins to jingle around. Alex had nothing.

But... that just brought him right back to the big, giant, flashing, glowing question.

Why?

Why in the world did that super-cheesy, "Hu hu ha," bottom-tier villain just... hand him this much money? What was this for?

"Nah... wait a minute," Alex muttered to himself, his fingers still tracing the numbers on the cheque. "I need to really think this through. I have to get something useful, some kind of answer, out of this damn brain of mine."

But... ugh. His head was still all fuzzy from... earlier... and from that insane, 20-minute history lesson. It wasn't in any shape to solve a big, weird, money-mystery right now.

He decided, right then and there, that he would definitely freshen up first. A nice, hot shower. A change of clothes. Then, and only then, would he sit down on his bed and start racking his brain for a real, actual answer to this two-million-crown puzzle.

But money is still money.

And this... this wasn't just "money." This was MONEY. A giant, life-changing, beautiful pile of it, all on one little piece of paper.

So, he very, very gently... folded the little cheque. Just once. Very carefully. Then he slid it into his pant pocket.

He didn't just drop it in there, oh no, no way. He shoved his whole hand deep, deep inside, pushing that precious folded paper all the way down, down, down, until it hit the very bottom seam of the pocket.

And then, he clutched it.

He made a tight, white-knuckled fist around the cheque, inside his pocket.

That's right. He was not going to take his hand out of that pocket. Not for a second. Not until he was completely safe inside his room, with the door locked and the windows bolted, and maybe a chair shoved under the doorknob just in case.

This hand was now stuck there. It was the cheque's new, personal, full-time bodyguard.

Okay. One last thing before he finally went inside.

'System?' he thought, his other hand reaching for the gate latch, while his money hand stayed firmly in his pocket. 'Any idea what that was all about? Do you know anything about this... this transaction?'

He had to ask. Before he proceeded with anything else, he just... he had to know if the all-powerful system had some magic, instant answer for him.

[No idea, boss.]

The little voice popped right into his head, sounding almost... bored.

[As much knowledgable as this system is, the personal life and weird, secret-agent meetings of a single, random human was not something we are programmed to watch.]

"I see." Alex let out a slow, quiet puff of air.

He kind of knew that was going to be the answer. Of course he knew. It made total sense.

But he just... he really wanted to hear it from the system itself. Just to be one hundred percent, absolutely, totally sure that he was well and truly on his own with this one.

Right. Now he could go inside.

He stepped right up to his own front door. He didn't even bother using a key. Instead, he just... rang the doorbell.

Ding-dong!

Then he just stood there. And waited.

He waited for what felt like... a whole minute. Just standing there on his own front step like a weirdo, with one hand still stuffed deep in his pocket, clutching his new, beautiful, two-million-crown cheque.

Finally, finally, he heard it. The familiar, wonderful sound of clicking.

Click... clack... thunk.

The sound of a lock, a very heavy lock, being unlocked from the inside.

Alex's eyes widened. A small, very interested smile started to form on his face as he saw who was opening the door for him.

It was... his dear stepmom, Violet.

And oh, wow.

She was clad in just a nightie. A simple, flowing, white satin nightie. It was the kind of silky, shiny material that just... clings... to all the right places. It was long, hanging down to just below her knees, but it somehow seemed way more naked than being naked.

She was the living, breathing, perfect embodiment of a total MILF.

He could tell, instantly, that Violet was freshly out of the shower. Her long, dark hair was still damp, with little wet ringlets curling around her face and neck. He could smell her from here, a warm, soapy, clean woman smell that hit him right in the face.

She stood there, right by the door, but not in the doorway. She was just... peeking. Only showing half of her body, half of her face, like she was shy or something.

Alex felt his mouth go dry. He had to gulp. A big, loud, stupid gulp.

The single, yellow light, the one shining from the lamp right above the door frame, was his new best friend. It was shining right down on her. And that thin, white, satin material? It wasn't hiding anything under that direct, yellow light.

She wasn't wearing any bra. Not a single thing under that thin, flimsy little nightie.

Her milfy, milky, huge breasts were... just... there. They were so obvious. They were heavy and full, pushing right against the white satin, making the fabric stretch tight over them.

You could see everything.

The light was shining on her, but it was also shining through the fabric just a little bit.

He could... yep. He squinted just a tiny bit. He could definitely see the dark, hard, shadow-like circles of her nipples, poking right out, saying "hello" right through the cloth.

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