Urban System in America

The older employee exhaled a long trail of smoke, the ash of his cigarette falling down without him noticing. He shook his head slowly. "Poor kid though. Imagine losing your parents like that, and then getting betrayed by the people you trusted most. No wonder he cracked."

"Yeah," the younger one snorted, flicking ash to the ground. "Cracked and sold everything. Heard he got played hard. Relatives swooped in, pretended to help, then took over cushy positions once the dust settled. Must've felt like a knife in the back."

The older one's laugh was bitter. " People who hadn't touched the business in years… they all crawled out of the woodwork and claimed seats. In these situations, family's the first knife in your back. Outsiders don't even need to try when your own blood wants you gone."

Another voice cut in, lower, conspiratorial.

"Honestly, the worst part wasn't even outsiders. It was the insiders. People who were supposed to be loyal. Management staff, senior people… folks who'd been around since the founders' days. They switched sides real fast when the money waved at them."

"That's business," the second man muttered, sighing through his nose. He sounded resigned, like this was just another ugly truth everyone eventually learned. "Loyalty doesn't feed mouths. Money does. He probably thought they were family, but… well, guess he learned the hard way."

Behind the vending machine, Rex felt the words dig into him like nails. He hadn't lived through the betrayal himself, not exactly, but the memory pulsed in his veins all the same, inherited like a wound that refused to close. Each sentence from their lips pressed heavier on his chest, fueling something sharp and cold inside him.

He could see it vividly. The grief of losing both parents. The confusion of being too young, too inexperienced to fight back. And those snakes… those smiling, loyal managers… twisting the knife deeper, whispering poison until he believed selling was his only way out.

And he did sell.

The thought made Rex's stomach churn.

He wasn't the one who had made that mistake. It wasn't his weakness. But he carried the name, the identity, and in a way… the burden.

Was this anger his? Or the remnants of the previous Rex… the young man whose body he now occupied? It didn't matter. It was real.

The unfairness of it, the coldness, gnawed at him.

A part of him scoffed… Of course this is how business works. This is Hollywood. This is the world. But another part, deeper and rawer, whispered, Still… they had no right.

Damn it… maybe this is the previous Rex's resentment bleeding into me. Or maybe it's just me, pissed off at how low people can sink. Doesn't matter. Either way, I can't just ignore this.

He tilted his head slightly, catching more of their hushed tones.

"…heard a rumor," the cautious one added. "The relatives didn't just move in on their own. They worked with the partners from the inside, pressured the kid with false numbers, staged flops in films, even sabotaged releases. Anything to paint a picture that the company was doomed."

"That's dirty," the young man muttered.

"That's business," the older one corrected, flicking ash into the tray. "And in this industry? Dirtier than most."

The younger one dragged on his cigarette and sighed. "Honestly, I kinda feel bad for him. Imagine having your own blood sell you out. But… you know, in this business, sympathy doesn't buy you a paycheck."

The older shrugged. "Yeah, well. The world doesn't care who's rightful heir. It only cares who's got the money and the muscle."

Rex set his soda down on the vending machine, untouched after that first bitter sip. His reflection warped on the aluminum surface…. calm face, blank eyes, but behind them a storm was brewing.

All the memories came crashing down. His parents' company had once been respected, a mid-level studio with potential to rise. They'd handled smaller projects but had a reputation for honesty and care. After his parents' sudden death, everything had gone downhill.

Films flopped one after another. Scripts that could've been winners were shelved or mishandled. Relatives… distant cousins, uncles he barely remembered, had been suddenly promoted to cushy positions. And with them came whispers: that they weren't just incompetent, they were actively sabotaging, colluding with certain shareholders.

All of it, leading to one conclusion: the heir, too young and grieving, had been pressured into selling.

Selling to the same wolves who'd circled him.

Sabotage. Betrayal. Collusion. All while he… or rather, the previous Rex… was drowning in grief.

He turned, pretending to check the time on his phone, but really just giving himself a breather. His chest rose and fell slowly as he reined himself in. Outwardly calm, inwardly fuming.

Hollywood… you really are a beast. A machine that chews up the weak and spits them out. And my family? My so-called relatives? They fed me to it themselves. Damn. Tch. Figures.

The employees kept talking, voices blending into background noise now. Their words had already carved deep enough.

Rex pushed off the vending machine, slipping away before anyone noticed the tension in his movements. But it was just his cautioness, the employees didn't even notice him slip away; they were too busy complaining about bonuses and deadlines.

He walked down the hall again, slower this time, his mind buzzing.

His footsteps echoed, each one heavier than before.

He sat down on an empty sofa in the lobby, rubbing his temples.

So that's the kind of mess I inherited. No wonder he gave up. No wonder he couldn't fight.

For a second, he felt it... the suffocating grief of someone who'd lost everything, parents and legacy, only to be betrayed by people he trusted. It wasn't his memory, but the emotions clung to him like smoke.

He let out a low laugh. "Damn… this is heavy. A whole tragic backstory dumped on me just like that. What am I supposed to do, cry on cue?"

He shook his head.

But deep down, beneath the humor, something else was burning.

Resolve.

This wasn't just about playing with the entertainment industry for fun anymore. It wasn't just about using his system to hack growth, stack money, and live comfortably. Now it was personal.

The relatives who betrayed. The management that switched sides. The outsiders who swooped in like vultures.

He wanted to drag them out into the light.

Rex leaned back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. His mind, however, was already racing.

He'd need to dig deeper.He needed more information. Not just scraps of gossip from a smoke break, but real data. Numbers. Reports. Who exactly had colluded, which shareholders pulled the strings, and how his relatives, those backstabbing opportunists, managed to twist the knife.

Anything that could show him how it all happened step by step.

Because one thing was clear.

Whether this anger came from his own heart or the ghost of the previous Rex, it was his burden now.

And he wasn't the type to forgive.

If they played dirty, I'll play filthier.

His lips curled into a grin.

"Alright then. Hollywood's not just about stars and lights. It's also about knives and shadows, huh? Fine. I'll learn both."

He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off invisible dirt.

The steps were clear. Get more information. Understand who the players were. Then, figure out the leverage. The entertainment industry was a warzone, but wars weren't won by the biggest guns…times have changed, they were won by the smartest tacticians.

(End of Chapter)