Urban Harem God: Harem With My Ultimate Copy & Paste System!-Chapter 8: New Beginning: A Condo, Cash and Harem God Card!

[Ding! Start-up mystery box opened>>

Host has received: A fully furnished condo in Tribeca, Manhattan>>]

Jayden blinked.

Nah. Nah, for real?

A condo? In Tribeca? Like that Tribeca? The one from Instagram flexes and Forbes articles and those YouTube videos where rich kids tour apartments with wine cellars bigger than his entire house?

He exhaled, chest rising like the disbelief physically weighed something. Shit like this didn't just happen. Not to him. It was one thing to read about it in those lowkey addictive urban system novels—the ones with dumbass titles like I Got a Condo and Now I'm God—but to live it? To feel the universe just drop a real estate miracle on his head like it owed him back pay for every goddamn trauma he'd swallowed and never spoken about?

The evidence was there...

He looked at the papers. Just... looked. There was something obscene about them. Something too clean, too glossy, too final. Like destiny had signed a lease in his name without bothering to ask if he was ready. They were spread across his lap, bold typeface and high-quality ink, legal jargon wrapped around one truth:

Get the hell out.

Out of the moldy walls, out of the neighbors who screamed more than they spoke, out of the mornings where hunger was a normal feeling, not a crisis. The papers weren't just documents. They were war declarations against the version of him that had accepted mediocrity as survival.

And the location? It was just far enough from school to keep his new life separated from the mess, but close enough to reach by train or some sleek Uber he wouldn't be ashamed to take anymore. Tribeca. Business titans. Legacy students. Instagram models who lived like luxury was hereditary.

He wasn't even mad. That was exactly where he needed to be. It was the ecosystem he'd been training for without knowing it—one built on image, control, and ambition so thick it turned air into something you had to bite through.

Then another blurst came.

[Ding! $100,000 added to your Limitless Card! Can be used instantly>>]

That was the actual reset button on his entire damn life.

Jayden's throat tightened. He didn't cry—not because he was too tough, but because tears would make this feel real, and real was too heavy.

The number kept echoing like a heartbeat inside his skull. $100,000. One hundred f**king thousand dollars. That wasn't just money. That was proof. That was the universe saying:

{You were right to hate it all. You were right to want more. You were right to dream stupid-big even when your stomach was empty and your soul was worse.}

He hadn't even seen the condo yet and honestly it was expensive he was sure it weighed more than the little money he had just got but...

It didn't matter. The money hit. Harder than anything ever had. Harder than his mom's cold silence. Harder than that look the teacher gave him when he asked for a second-hand textbook. Harder than the way people would laugh when he say he wanted to start a business someday.

Because now?

He could buy the table they all gatekept.

And burn it after dinner.

Still, under the adrenaline and thrill, a darker voice whispered—not all excited and shiny like some YouTuber winning a Tesla, but low and bitter, like an old scar itching before a storm.

This is just the start.

And not everyone makes it past the start.

Not without bleeding.

Not without killing a few pieces of themselves just to survive the parts that come next.

But for now... he had $100K and a condo in Tribeca.

Jayden felt like jumping. Like straight-up, Olympic-level, punch-the-air kind of jumping.

But he held it down. Grounded himself like his life depended on it. Because this—this—wasn't the end. This wasn't even the real reward. This was just the foreplay. The appetizer. The universe hadn't even unzipped its pants yet, and already he was out here getting fed.

And he knew better. If he started acting brand new now, then how the fuck was he gonna handle the chaos that was really coming?

"Better to get used to the feeling of abundance early. Like, fast. Make luxury your default. Let power sit in your bones like calcium, Jayden. Smile with it, breathe it in, stop blinking like it's a dream."

So he tilted his head a little, voice low, calm, the calm of someone who knew he was gonna own everything in a few months anyway. "Push in, system. That's not all, right?"

[Ding! Host has received: Harem God Card!

Note: Better used after improving physique for better and instant results!]

Jayden stared. Blinked once. And again. freewebnøvel.com

...The fuck did he just get?

He didn't move at first. Just squinted at the air like the words might change if he glared hard enough. But they didn't. They stayed glowing and smug, like the system knew exactly what it had done.

"Harem God Card," he muttered under his breath. And not like some horny anime protagonist, either. This was... different. The word god hit hard. That wasn't just random. That meant something. You don't just toss the word god into a name unless it comes with power, chaos, and probably a few baby mamas down the road.

Still, when the actual card manifested in his hand?

He almost dropped it.

It looked... wrong. Like the designer had been on crack, anime, and sexual frustration all at once. It was glossy pink, suspiciously shaped, and had this glittery aura around it like it was fresh off a stripper's pole in Vegas. Jayden snorted.

"Aight. Who the fuck designed this? Cupid on ecstasy?" He didn't even bother. Just chucked it into his inventory and wiped his hand like he'd touched a sentient dildo. "We'll deal with that later."

Then—just when he thought it was over:

[Ding! Host has received: White Dragon Group!

A collapsed clandestine network. A forgotten ghost of an elite intelligence and operations syndicate — masters of manipulation, asset recovery, and whispered assassinations. Once hired by CEOs and billionaires alike to rewrite narratives and erase problems. Informants. Fixers. Shadow operatives!]

Jayden didn't even sit up. He stood up. Fast. Like his soul had yanked him upright before his brain could catch up. And then, right in front of him—boom. His fucking bed overflowed.

He just... stared. Mouth open.

"...What the hell?"

It was like the CIA and the Illuminati had a breakup and left all their shared custody shit in his room. His room, which still had ramen crumbs on the floor and a charger that only worked if he bent it in a stupid angle.

And now he had this. The White Dragon Group. Like something out of an elite Netflix show that got canceled because it was too real.

Jayden dragged a hand over his face, half laughing, half overwhelmed. "Jesus fucking Christ... I was just trying to get out the hood, not become the final boss."

But even as he said it, his chest tightened. That kind of tight that had nothing to do with fear. It was hunger. Not the kind that food fixed—but the kind that dreams did.

The kind of hunger that told him the world was his now.

He just had to take it.