Ultimate Choice System: I Became The Richest!

Noah approached the door calmly, his footsteps muffled against the soft ground.

'Do I knock like a polite guest, or do I make things a little more interesting?'

His expression was unreadable. Standing before the wooden door, he raised his knuckles and rapped on it lightly.

knock-knock.

Seconds ticked by, and the silence remained.

His ears scanned for any sound on the other side, but there was nothing—no shuffling, no voices, not even the creak of the floorboards.

He exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line. Raising his hand again, he knocked a second time.

knock-knock.

Still, there was no answer.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped back slightly, glancing at the edges of the door.

'What's going on here?' he thought, scanning the surroundings briefly.

Shrugging off the silence, Noah reached into his system inventory, his fingers closing around a small, nondescript lockpick. With a quick flick of his wrist, it appeared in his hand, gleaming faintly. He knelt slightly, positioning himself close to the door while keeping an eye on his surroundings.

Seeing no movement nearby, he inserted the lockpick into the keyhole and manipulated the tumblers inside with quick movements.

Click.

The lock gave way almost immediately, the door creaking softly as it shifted open. Noah stood, pocketing the lockpick as he pushed the door inward just enough to slip inside. He stepped over the threshold with quietness.

The moment he was inside, he closed the door behind him, the latch clicking faintly into place.

The air in the room was stale, carrying a very faint scent of something metallic.

His senses sharpened, and Noah scanned the space. Every creak of the old floorboards beneath his boots sounded deafening in the stillness. The room was small, barely furnished, with a single table pushed into the corner and a few chairs scattered haphazardly. On the far wall, a closed door led to what he assumed was another room.

'No sign of anyone,' he thought, moving further inside. 'But this place wasn't abandoned recently. Someone's been here.'

Noah crouched low, his sharp eyes locking onto faint scuff marks on the floor. His fingers brushed over them, tracing the path of whatever had left the trail.

"Someone dragged something heavy—or someone," he muttered under his breath, his tone grim.

His gaze followed the faint trail until it led to a closed door on the far side of the room. A cold, sinking feeling settled in his chest as his mind churned through the possibilities.

Something about this situation didn't sit right.

Standing, Noah reached into his inventory and summoned his Magnum Research revolver, the base of the weapon settling into his palm. He held it tightly as he approached the door. Each step forward seemed to amplify the faint metallic tang in the air.

The smell hit him in full force as he neared the door.

"Blood," he thought, his eyes narrowing. His grip on the revolver tightened as he pressed a hand against the doorframe, pushing it open slowly.

The door creaked on its hinges as Noah "sliced the pie," clearing each angle of the room by peering through the opening as it widened.

The room was dim, the light from the living room slowly spilt in. For the first few moments, he spotted nothing—just scattered furniture.

But then, as the door opened fully, his heart sank.

A body lay on the floor, facedown, its lifeless form slumped against the far wall. The stagnant air seemed to grow heavier as Noah frowned, taking a moment to clear the rest of the room.

His gaze darted to every corner, every shadow, ensuring the space was safe.

After making sure there was no one but the dead body inside the room, Noah advanced toward the body. The metallic scent of blood was overpowering now, the metallic tang clawing at his nostrils. He nudged the body with the toe of his shoe, flipping it slightly.

As the face came into view, Noah's expression darkened.

"This is... Franklin Clinton," he muttered, his voice low and edged with frustration. For a moment, anger flared in his chest, only to be replaced by a chilling calm as he stared at the lifeless figure.

"Never a ghost," Noah said softly, his voice dripping with contempt. "Just a decoy."

He knelt beside the body, his mind racing. Reaching out, he touched the corpse, activating his Advanced Skill: Memory Glance.

For a fleeting second, images flashed in his mind—fragmented scenes of Franklin's recent activities. The echoes of whispered conversations, blurred faces, and hurried movements played like a broken reel. But then, the images abruptly cut off.

"What the hell?" Noah frowned deeply, pulling back his hand. "I didn't get nearly as much as usual. Is it because he's dead?"

The thought gnawed at him as he stood, holstering his revolver. His sharp gaze swept the room again, the pieces of the puzzle rearranging themselves in his mind.

"Whoever's behind this, he is playing a different game," Noah muttered, his voice cold. "Franklin was nothing but a pawn."

Noah stood in the centre of Franklin's dimly lit room, his jaw clenched tightly. His mind churned with frustration as he pieced together the fragments of memories he had glimpsed.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "There's nothing helpful. No names, no faces...nothing."

The air felt heavy as Noah's face remained unreadable, the metallic scent of blood lingering as Noah made a decision.

He moved to the door and carefully wiped the fingerprints he had left on the handle and the lock. Satisfied, he stepped outside, closing the door softly behind him.

The street was quiet, Noah adjusted his hood and walked to the nearest street, where he called for another ride.

**

Inside Lionel's house, Lionel, Ryker, and the injured Leo were seated in the living room. Leo's posture was stiff, his movements careful to avoid aggravating his wound, but his expression brightened when he saw Noah step through the door.

"How's the injury, Leo?" Noah asked, his tone calm.

Leo grimaced slightly, his hand instinctively brushing the side where he was shot. "I'm fine, boss," he said with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks for saving my life."

Noah nodded, his gaze sharp but approving. "That's good. Make sure to take it easy."

Lionel leaned forward slightly, his expression more serious. "Boss, we handled the people you gave us. Everything is settled now."

Noah's lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded. "They were nothing but pawns," he said, his voice low and cold.

Lionel nodded in agreement, his tone reflecting the same frustration. "I heard from Tyrell—someone called Ghost. That's the name that kept coming up."

Noah's eyes flickered with a faint spark of annoyance as he crossed his arms. "Yes, this so-called Ghost is still out there. But there isn't much evidence we can use to pin down his identity yet."

The room fell into a brief silence, each man processing the implications of the perpetrator still being out there.

Finally, Noah broke it.

"You guys proceed as usual," he said firmly, his gaze sweeping across all three of them. "But be very careful. Don't take unnecessary risks, and keep your eyes open."

"Understood, boss," they replied in unison, their tones resolute.

Noah pulled a small pouch from his pocket and set it on the table. The soft clink of metal echoed in the room as he revealed two 500g gold bars.

"Split these between you and Jackson," Noah said, his voice steady but commanding. "Make sure everything is accounted for."

Lionel and Ryker exchanged glances before nodding. "Alright, boss. We'll take care of it."

Before leaving, Noah moved subtly, his hand brushing each man's shoulder as he gave them a parting nod.

As he made contact, he activated his Memory Glance skill, scanning for any signs of betrayal.

The memories flashed quickly.

"It's not them," Noah thought, relief mixing with his wariness. "There's no traitor here."

As he stepped outside, Noah's thoughts turned back to Ghost. His mind churned with possibilities and plans.

One thing was certain—this game was far from over.

'For the first time in a long time, I was teased like this... Ghost, pray I don't catch you, because if I do...'

"I've already followed most of the leads," he muttered to himself, his voice low enough that the driver didn't even glance back. His mind raced through the tangled web of connections he had been chasing. "There are only a few more links that I need to check."

His gaze flickered toward the passing streetlights outside the window as he pieced together the chain of events. One link, in particular, stood out. He had been ignoring it or some time, but it was time to finally check it out.

"The guy that was supposed to buy the gold bar," Noah said, his voice barely audible. His fingers stilled, curling into a loose fist. "He might be the one."

A ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. "Time to find out if this so-called loyal customer is really as innocent as Lionel believes."

He settled deeper into his seat, letting his mind run through possible scenarios, questions to ask, and angles to exploit.