The next few days passed without Richard returning to the dealership earlier than necessary.

For once, he allowed himself to stay home.

Not the old house in Happyland.

Home.

The word still felt strange whenever he thought about the condominium that way, but each morning made it feel more natural. His mother had begun arranging the kitchen according to her own system, which apparently nobody else could understand but everyone was expected to obey. Angela had already decorated her study desk with sticky notes, pens, notebooks, and one small lamp she insisted gave her "academic energy."

Richard had no idea what academic energy meant.

He chose not to ask.

After breakfast, Angela usually sat by the window with her school materials scattered around the desk, pretending to study while occasionally staring at the view. Their mother moved around the unit with increasing comfort, though she still cleaned things that were already clean and checked cabinets as if expecting the condominium to develop leaks out of habit. Richard spent most of his time watching them adjust.

It was a small thing.

Ordinary.

But somehow it felt more satisfying than seeing another luxury vehicle leave the showroom.

On the fourth morning, Richard woke to the smell of garlic rice and eggs. He stepped out of his room and found his mother already in the kitchen while Angela sat at the dining table, half-awake and wrapped in a blanket like an exhausted burrito.

"Good morning," Richard said.

Angela lifted one hand weakly.

"I am awake in spirit."

"You have schoolwork?"

"I have suffering."

"Same thing."

Their mother placed a plate in front of him.

"Eat before it gets cold."

Richard sat down and began eating. For several minutes, the morning remained peaceful. Sunlight filled the dining area, traffic moved far below them, and the city outside looked distant enough to be someone else’s problem.

Then Angela sighed dramatically.

Richard glanced at her.

"What now?"

"Nothing."

"That sigh sounded expensive."

She looked at him with betrayal.

"Why do you always assume my problems involve money?"

"Because most of your problems involve food, school supplies, or online shopping."

"That’s not fair."

"Is it wrong?"

Angela hesitated.

"No."

Their mother gave them both a look that ended the argument before it could continue.

Richard continued eating, but the thought stayed with him. School. Angela was still enrolled in the same school she had attended before the move. It wasn’t terrible, but it also wasn’t the kind of environment he wanted for her anymore. Before, they had accepted whatever was available because options cost money. Now money was no longer the obstacle.

He looked toward her.

"Angela."

She glanced up.

"What?"

"Have you ever thought about transferring schools?"

The question made her stop chewing.

Their mother looked at him as well.

"Transferring?" she asked.

Richard placed his spoon down.

"Yes."

Angela blinked.

"Why?"

"Because we moved. Your current school is far now, and commuting from here will be inconvenient."

That was true.

It was not the full reason.

He continued before either of them could speak.

"And honestly, if we have better options now, we should at least look at them."

Angela stared at him as if he had suggested buying another condominium.

"You mean like a private school?"

"Maybe."

"Brother, private schools are expensive."

Their mother nodded slowly.

"Richard, tuition in those schools is not cheap."

"I know."

Angela narrowed her eyes.

"Do you know, or do you rich-person know?"

Richard sighed.

"Please stop saying rich person."

"You bought us a condo."

"That was for safety."

"You took us shopping after."

"That was for necessities."

"You bought Ma a coffee maker she said we didn’t need."

"She needed it."

Their mother quietly sipped coffee from the said coffee maker and wisely chose not to comment.

Richard leaned back.

"I’m serious."

"So am I," Angela replied, though her voice had softened. "I don’t know if I can fit in at a private school."

That answer caught him off guard.

He had expected questions about money.

Maybe excitement.

Maybe jokes.

Not that.

Their mother looked at her.

"Why would you say that?"

Angela shrugged and looked out the window.

"I don’t know. Those schools are different, right? Rich kids. English-speaking kids. People who grew up with cars and tutors and nice houses. What if I look stupid there?"

Richard felt something tighten in his chest.

He had thought about tuition, location, reputation, and facilities.

He had not thought enough about fear.

Of course she would feel that way.

Their life had changed too quickly. One month ago, Angela still lived in Happyland and believed her brother repaired phones in Divisoria. Now she was waking up in a condominium, eating breakfast above the city, and being asked whether she wanted to transfer into a school filled with students from families who had always lived this way.

Richard folded his hands on the table.

"Angela, listen to me."

She looked at him reluctantly.

"You are not stupid."

"I know."

"No, you don’t."

Her expression shifted.

Richard continued quietly.

"You think because other people grew up with better things, that means they are better prepared for life."

"Isn’t that true?"

"Some of them will have advantages. That’s different."

He looked toward the window, then back at her.

"You grew up in Happyland. You learned how to study with noise outside, how to make do with less, how to adjust when things were hard. You think that makes you less than them, but it doesn’t. It means you survived things many of them never had to think about."

Angela lowered her gaze.

Their mother watched silently.

Richard smiled faintly.

"And if they speak English better, then learn. If they have tutors, then I’ll get you tutors. If they have better materials, then we’ll buy better materials. That’s the whole point of having options now."

Angela’s eyes narrowed again, though less defensively.

"So your solution is money."

"My solution is support."

"That sounds like money."

"Sometimes support costs money."

Their mother laughed softly at that, and the tension eased enough for Angela to smile.

Richard took out his phone and opened his browser.

"Let’s just look. No decisions yet."

Angela leaned forward despite herself.

"Which schools?"

"That’s what we need to find out."

The next two hours turned into an unexpected family project.

They moved from the dining table to the living room, where Richard connected his laptop to the television so everyone could see clearly. Angela sat cross-legged on the sofa with a notebook, suddenly transformed from reluctant student into serious school evaluator. Their mother sat beside her, still concerned but gradually becoming interested whenever the schools mentioned safety, student support, and transportation.

Richard searched for private schools and universities with senior high school programs near Quezon City, San Juan, and nearby areas. He checked websites, tuition discussions, campus photos, parent reviews, and student comments. Some schools looked impressive but were too far. Others had good names but terrible traffic routes. A few seemed excellent on paper but felt too rigid for Angela.

Angela developed strong opinions quickly.

"That one looks like a prison."

"It’s a school."

"It has gray walls and everyone looks sad."

Richard closed the tab.

"Fine."

Their mother pointed toward another option.

"This one has a good chapel."

Angela stared at her.

"Ma, I am going to study, not move into a convent."

"Prayer helps studying."

"So does Wi-Fi."

Richard ignored both of them and kept searching.

Eventually, three serious options remained.

One was a respected private university with a strong senior high school program and excellent facilities. It had a campus large enough to feel like a different world, with libraries, laboratories, study areas, and student organizations. Another was a smaller private school known for academic discipline and college preparation. The third was an expensive international-style institution with modern facilities, small class sizes, and a student body that probably treated overseas vacations as normal conversation.

Angela immediately became suspicious of the third one.

"Absolutely not."

Richard raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Those people probably say things like ’summer in Europe.’"

"You don’t know that."

"I can feel it from the website."

Their mother tried not to laugh.

Richard removed it from the shortlist.

That left two.

Both were good.

Both were reachable.

Both had better facilities than anything Angela had experienced before.

Richard looked at her.

"What do you think?"

Angela stared at the screen for a while.

"The first one."

"The university?"

She nodded slowly.

"It looks less scary."

Richard smiled.

"Less scary is a valid criterion."

"It also has a library."

"You like libraries?"

"I like quiet places where people don’t sing karaoke."

Their mother laughed.

Richard leaned back and studied the website again.

Private university.

Strong reputation.

Good facilities.

Reasonable commute from the condominium.

Tuition was high compared to their old life, but compared to his current income, it was not a problem. The larger question was whether Angela could adjust. Whether she wanted to. Whether moving her too quickly into a new environment would help her grow or overwhelm her.

He looked toward his mother.

"What do you think?"

She was quiet for a moment.

"I think... if she wants to try, we should let her."

Angela turned toward her.

"Really?"

Their mother nodded.

"When I was young, I didn’t have many choices. When your brother was young, we couldn’t give him many choices either."

Her eyes softened.

"If you have choices now, maybe you should use them."

Angela’s expression changed.

Not excitement exactly.

Something more careful.

Hope mixed with fear.

Richard understood that feeling well.

He had lived with it since the system appeared.

Every new opportunity came with a quiet question.

What if I don’t belong there?

He closed the laptop slightly.

"Then we’ll visit."

Angela looked up.

"Visit?"

"Yes. We’ll schedule a campus tour, ask about enrollment, tuition, requirements, everything. You don’t have to decide today."

She nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Richard smiled.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

For a few seconds, the conversation seemed settled.

Then Angela frowned.

"Wait."

"What?"

"If I transfer, do I need new uniforms?"

"Probably."

"New shoes?"

"Probably."

"New bag?"

"You already have a new bag."

"Yes, but is it private-university compatible?"

Richard stared at her.

Their mother sighed.

"There it is."

Angela grinned.

"What? I need to prepare."

Richard shook his head, though he was smiling.

This was good.

Jokes meant she was less afraid.

Later that afternoon, Richard called the university’s admissions office. The woman on the other end spoke politely and explained the process. Entrance assessment. Previous school records. Report card. Good moral certificate. Birth certificate. Identification photos. Tuition schedule. Available strands.

Richard wrote everything down.

Angela hovered beside him, pretending not to listen while clearly listening to every word.

When the call ended, she immediately asked, "What did they say?"

"Campus tour next Wednesday."

Her eyes widened.

"That fast?"

"Apparently."

She looked nervous again.

Richard stood and gently tapped her forehead with one finger.

"You’ll be fine."

"You don’t know that."

"I do."

"How?"

"Because you’re my sister."

She rolled her eyes.

"That’s not evidence."

"It is to me."

That evening, the three of them ate dinner at home.

The conversation kept returning to school.

What strand Angela should take.

Whether she wanted STEM, ABM, HUMSS, or something else.

What subjects she liked.

What subjects she hated.

What kind of classmates she feared.

What kind of future she imagined.

For years, school had been treated as something to endure and complete.

Now, for the first time, it became something they could choose with care.

That difference mattered.

After dinner, Angela returned to her room and sat at her new desk facing the city view. Richard passed by later and saw the university website open on her laptop. She was reading quietly, her chin resting on one hand, the study lamp casting warm light across her notes.

He didn’t disturb her.

Their mother stood near the kitchen doorway watching the same scene.

"She looks nervous," she said softly.

"She is."

"Are you?"

Richard thought about it.

"A little."

His mother looked at him.

"You really think she can handle it?"

Richard watched Angela scrolling through the page.

"Yes."

He meant it.

Not because private school was easy.

Not because money solved everything.

But because Angela had spent her entire life adapting. She had adapted to noise, heat, floods, crowded streets, limited space, and every small inconvenience poverty placed in front of her. A better school would challenge her in different ways, but challenges were not new to her.

Only the environment had changed.

His mother smiled faintly.

"You always sound so sure now."

Richard looked at her.

"Do I?"

"Yes."

He almost laughed.

He did not feel sure most of the time.

Phoenix Auto Trading kept growing faster than expected. The system kept opening doors into larger and stranger opportunities. Every level changed his world before he fully understood the previous one. Most days, he simply made the best decision available and hoped it would not collapse later.

But with his family, things felt clearer.

His mother deserved comfort.

Angela deserved opportunity.

Those were simple truths.

No system notification needed to explain them.

Richard looked back toward Angela’s room.

"She deserves the chance."

Their mother nodded.

"She does."

Inside the room, Angela suddenly called out.

"Brother?"

"What?"

"If I go there, can I join clubs?"

Richard smiled.

"Of course."

"Even if they’re expensive?"

"Depends on the club."

"What if it’s photography?"

"Fine."

"What if it’s robotics?"

"Also fine."

"What if it’s equestrian?"

Richard paused.

Their mother looked at him.

Angela peeked from the doorway with a mischievous grin.

"Joke only."

Richard sighed.

"Don’t scare me like that."

Angela laughed and disappeared back into her room.

Their mother chuckled quietly before returning to the kitchen.

Richard remained in the hallway for a moment, listening to the soft sounds of their new home. The hum of the air conditioner. The faint traffic below. The quiet clicking of Angela’s keyboard. His mother’s careful movements in the kitchen.

It was ordinary.

Beautifully ordinary.

A few months ago, he thought success meant changing his own life.

Now he understood better.

Real success meant expanding the choices of the people you loved.

A safer home.

A better school.

A future that no longer had to be built around limitations.

Richard walked toward the living room windows and looked out across the city.

Somewhere beyond the skyline sat the old repair shop in Divisoria.

Somewhere beyond that stood Happyland.

Both places had shaped them.

But neither had to define where they ended up.

Next Wednesday, Angela would step into a campus she once would’ve considered unreachable.

She would be nervous.

Probably sarcastic.

Definitely hungry afterward.

But she would go.

And Richard would be there with her.

Not as the boy who repaired phones and counted coins at night.

Not as the owner of Phoenix Auto Trading.

Just as her brother.

The one who finally had the means to open doors that used to be locked.