The morning light slipped through the blinds in streaks, casting soft lines across Jason's blanket as he lay still, wide awake.
He hadn't moved since his eyes opened.
It was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that most people would've loved.
But his thoughts weren't quiet.
He stared at the ceiling, torn.
Should he tell her?
Just walk into her room and say, Hey, Ma — I bought you a house. A car too. Oh, and I might be richer than half the country now, because I used to fight gods in another universe. Surprise.
He almost chuckled at the ridiculousness of it.
But then he imagined her reaction — not the initial shock, but the hundred follow-up questions. The worry. The doubt. The suspicion. The fear that maybe he was in something dark or dangerous. That her son had gone too far, too fast.
That wasn't what he wanted for her.
Not yet.
He turned over and buried his face into the pillow, letting out a long sigh.
"System," he muttered.
[Online.]
"Create a fake competition. Something for civil servants. Public service appreciation or… I don't know, single mothers who work in Accra. Make it believable."
[Understood.]
"Make it look like I signed her up last week. She won the grand prize — new house, new car. Fully covered. No strings attached."
[Would you like the prize to be delivered with a public handover or private reveal?]
Jason thought for a moment.
"Private. She wouldn't like the attention."
[Generating fake sweepstakes and delivery protocol… Verified. The 'Ghana Service Gratitude Giveaway' will deliver the package under the name of a regional campaign celebrating community champions. Your mother will be notified tomorrow morning.]
Jason finally sat up, legs swinging off the bed.
His hands rested on his knees, fingers flexing slightly.
It wasn't about hiding it forever. He'd tell her eventually.
But today… she just needed to feel lucky.
He stood up and went to brush his teeth.
By the time he stepped out into the small hallway, he heard light movement from the kitchen.
His mom.
She was already up, probably trying to clean or start breakfast even though she got in late.
He turned the corner.
She looked up just as he entered.
Her eyes paused for a second.
"Ohhh," she said, smiling, "look at you."
Jason blinked. "What?"
"The haircut," she said, stepping closer and giving him a good once-over. "It suits you. Sharp. You look grown."
He scratched the back of his neck. "It's just hair."
"It's a good look," she said again, brushing some crumbs off the counter. "People will start asking me if I have a teenage son or a young politician."
Jason smirked. "Let's not get carried away."
She laughed, the tiredness in her face softening. "You're still making breakfast?"
"Yup. Go sit down. I've got it."
"Ah, today too?" she said playfully. "Should I be worried?"
Jason raised a brow. "It's not burnt, is it?"
"No," she admitted. "It's just… surprisingly good."
Jason turned back toward the stove, hiding the small smile tugging at his mouth.
She didn't need to know he'd bought Gordon Ramsay's skillset like it was a mobile app.
Not today.
Probably never.
Jason stirred the slightly simmering pot one last time before turning off the flame. The smell of spicy eggs and toast filled the small kitchen — clean, simple, comforting.
His mom sat at the tiny dining table, a soft tiredness still clinging to her from the long night before, but her shoulders had dropped. Relaxed. Like this one quiet moment was enough to let her breathe.
He placed her plate in front of her — golden toast, soft eggs with just the right hint of onion and pepper, a bit of avocado sliced neatly on the side.
She blinked. "Jason… this is restaurant-level."
He sat opposite her, hiding a grin with a sip of his Milo. "Then maybe I missed my calling."
She took a bite and actually closed her eyes for a moment. "Mmm. Okay, now I'm worried. Since when did you become a chef?"
Jason shrugged. "I watch YouTube."
She gave him a look but didn't press.
"Do I need to start leaving you cooking duty more often?" she asked, still chewing.
"If it means I get to sleep in a little more, I'm not complaining," he said casually.
They ate in peace for a while — the only sound the quiet hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of cutlery.
Jason was halfway through cleaning the last of the breakfast dishes when his mom walked in from her room, tying her scarf loosely behind her head.
She walked past him toward the counter, grabbing a piece of fruit and biting into it. For a few moments, it was quiet — the kind of familiar, peaceful silence that only came when both people were too used to each other to force small talk.
Then her voice came, soft but firm.
"Year Ten, Jay."
Jason glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah, I know."
"That's serious business," she said, leaning against the counter. "IGCSEs, coursework, all of it. You're not a little boy in Cresthill's Primary wing anymore."
"I know," Jason repeated, quieter this time.
She gave a thoughtful nod. "You've been there since kindergarten. Sometimes I forget how long it's been."
Jason smiled faintly. "You mean you forget how long you've been writing those term cheques."
She chuckled. "Oh, I remember. Every cedi. Every sacrifice. That school isn't cheap, but it's given you something solid. Structure. Confidence. Friends."
He didn't say anything to that.
Her eyes softened. "I still remember your first day. You were five. Clung to my skirt like the headmistress was a prison warden."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "I was five and that school looked like a palace."
She laughed. "It is a palace. One full of kids who think they're little kings and queens."
He smiled. "Some of them act like it too."
She shook her head, the fondness never leaving her voice. "But you've held your own. Quiet, yes. Always in your head. But you've held your own."
Jason finished drying his hands and leaned back against the sink. "Is this your way of saying I better not mess up Year Ten?"
She pointed the half-eaten fruit at him. "Exactly."
"I won't."
"I mean it, Jay," she said. "No coasting. No last-minute cramming. You're too smart for that. And you're not ten anymore."
Jason's expression stayed even, but his heart tugged a little. She didn't know that Cresthill's tuition was already quietly settled for the next decade. That she'd never have to juggle invoices or bank transfer cut-off dates again. That he'd already made sure her sacrifices had been repaid in full.
But it didn't matter.
Because she believed in him. Still spoke like her son was her biggest investment — and her biggest hope.
He didn't want to ruin that with explanations.
So he just nodded.
"I get it."
She stepped forward and gave his shoulder a small squeeze. "Good. Because I know what you're capable of. And I didn't send you to Cresthill all these years for you to coast in the final stretch."
Jason looked down briefly, then back up. "Thanks, Ma. For everything."
She smiled. "Don't thank me yet. Go sweep the compound after this."
He laughed. "Knew that was coming."
She kissed his cheek, already heading for the bedroom. "Get ready. School's coming fast."
Jason stood there a moment longer, watching the light shift slightly across the kitchen tiles.
Then, quietly to himself, he said:
"I'm ready."
Jason sat at the edge of his bed, school tablet in hand, flipping through the orientation documents Cresthill Academy had emailed a few days prior. New uniform policy. Updated academic calendar. Subject outlines.
His eyes drifted to the line that listed the top-performing students from last year.
Year 9 Academic Leader: Kwame Acheampong (Consistent since Year 1)
Jason stared at the name.
Ten years. Same boy. Same seat at the top.
He closed the tablet, exhaled, then opened the system screen with a blink.
[Academic Enhancement Options Available]
• Accelerated Learning Protocols
• Advanced Memory Retention (Mnemonic Tier)
• Subject-Specific Aptitude Boosters
• Cognitive Endurance Buff
• Performance Tracking Integration
He selected everything related to long-term retention, problem-solving, and exam mastery. No shortcuts — just pure grind-enhancement. The system responded instantly.
[System Points Deducted. Enhancements Installed.]
He felt the shift — like something in his brain had tightened, not painfully, but with purpose.
"Good," he murmured.
Then switched tabs.
[Physical Optimization Suite – Athletics Division]
• Reaction Time Calibration
• Stamina Foundation Boost
• Micro-muscle Memory Enhancement (Track, Football, Basketball available)
• Recovery Time Reduction
• Flexibility and Balance Matrix
He didn't need to become a pro athlete.
He just needed to win. Once. Publicly. Just enough to send a message:
Thank you, Ma.
You bet on me.
You were right.
Jason picked Football and Track, nodded, and installed both. His bones tingled briefly, then went still again. Quiet upgrades — the kind that didn't show until it mattered.
[Estimated Academic Ranking Projection: #1 within 3 Weeks of School Commencement (With Consistent Output)]
[Estimated Physical Performance Ranking: Top 5 within 2 Weeks – Full Leadership Potential by Mid-Term]
Jason stood, rolled his shoulders, then looked at himself in the mirror.
No cape. No glowing aura.
Just a kid.
But one who was about to take the top seat at Cresthill without ever raising his voice.
Let Kwame have had his decade. It was Jason's time now.
And this? This wasn't for pride. Or attention.
This was for the woman in the next room who gave everything so he could have options.
He smirked.
"Let's give her a show."