The Genius System-Chapter 63: Flashback

Note 1 : Thank you LordofWar459 & Epic_Buddie123. This chapter is for you

Note 2 : More gifts for more chapters.

Note 3 : if you wanted me to create a discord to talk about the novel, let me know in the comments

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The car was moving slowly, gliding through the dark, quiet streets of the city. The flickering neon signs of deserted storefronts cast fleeting shadows on the tired facades of the buildings, giving the surroundings an almost spectral air. In the back seat, Lassen was silent, motionless.

His eyes absentmindedly followed the lights dancing on the tinted windows, but his mind seemed far away, lost in a maze of thoughts.

Adrian, at the wheel, occasionally glanced furtively in the rearview mirror. His boss’s demeanor was unusual. Lassen, usually so sarcastic, seemed wrapped in a gravity Adrian didn’t dare disturb. Yet the silence wasn’t empty; it was heavy with something Adrian couldn’t quite name.

Then, suddenly, Lassen shifted slightly. His eyes locked on something in the distance, beyond the reflections and shadows. A familiar, imposing, and cold silhouette loomed in the darkness.

It was a solitary building, a monolith from a bygone era, its gaping, dark windows eroded by the ravages of time. Its gray facade seemed almost alive under the trembling light of the streetlamps, as if it still breathed memories of a forgotten past.

Lassen felt his heart skip a beat.

"Adrian" he said, his voice strangely calm, almost robotic. "Stop the car."

Adrian furrowed his brows, easing off the gas slightly as he glanced again at his boss through the rearview mirror "Here? Why? It’s just an old building. Do you need something?"

Lassen turned his head toward him " Now !!" Lassen said again, his tone icy.

Adrian sighed, giving a small shake of his head. He knew arguing would be pointless. He steered the car to the side of the road and brought it to a gentle stop.

Before the car had fully halted, Lassen pushed the door open. The sharp slam echoed down the deserted street, cutting through the oppressive stillness of the night.

Adrian watched him step out, his brow knitted with suspicion "Should I wait for you?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of unease he tried to mask.

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Lassen didn’t answer. He was already striding toward the building, his footsteps ringing faintly on the pavement, each one echoing off the bleak walls around him.

The cold gnawed at the air, creeping into his clothes and biting his skin, but he didn’t slow his pace.

Adrian, still in the car, didn’t turn off the engine.

In front of the towering structure, Lassen came to a stop. He tilted his head upward, his eyes tracing the building’s contours, the ravages of time etched deeply into its surface. Yet, in its ruin, it still commanded a sense of authority.

His gaze ascended floor by floor, pausing at every darkened window, each one a relic of memories buried deep. At last, his eyes reached the top—the roof. The place where it all began. The place where it was meant to end.

The bitter wind lashed at his face, but Lassen didn’t flinch. His hands quivered faintly, not from the cold, but from the torrent of emotions surging within him. They were there, fierce and unyielding, crashing over him like waves against a crumbling cliff. The memories he had tried to bury for so long were forcing their way to the surface.

The familiar smell of wet concrete and rust seemed to hover in the air. His thoughts yanked him back in time, to memories he longed to erase. A stark image came to him: a broken young man, standing on this very rooftop, staring into the depths below.

Lassen envisioned himself as a child, standing before the grand doors of the orphanage. He clutched the hand of a woman he could no longer recall, likely a social worker.

Around him, the other children watched—some curious, others with thinly veiled hostility.

A jeering voice broke the silence "Look at him, he’s lost! Hey, kid, do you even know where you are? This is the jungle."

A taller boy approached, a malicious grin twisting his lips. Lassen wanted to speak, but no words would come. He still remembered the fear, the loneliness, and the crushing weight of knowing he would never belong.

Another memory surfaced, brighter this time. He saw himself as a child, sitting in a dusty corner of the orphanage library. Around him, rows of tired wooden shelves sagged under the weight of mismatched books, some nearly falling apart.

In his hands, he held an old novel, its cracked cover bearing witness to its age. The pages were yellowed and exuded that unique scent—a blend of aged paper and forgotten dreams. But to Lassen, this book wasn’t just a worn object: it was a window into the unknown. A priceless treasure.

He had plunged into the words as if diving into an ocean, letting the waves of the story sweep everything away: the taunts of the other children, the fights in the hallways, the crushing loneliness that weighed on him daily. Every sentence he read was like a breath of fresh air, a way to escape the harshness of his reality. In that literary universe, he was no longer a lost orphan. He was a knight, an explorer, a hero.

It was that day, in the silence of that library, that he realized books could be more than just a pastime. They could be a sanctuary, a safe place where the pain and anxieties of the real world couldn’t reach him. Each word became a key, opening a door to another world—a world where he could finally be someone else.

Another memory floated to the surface, starkly different. It was the day he left the orphanage. He saw himself again, standing before the imposing gates, a worn backpack slung over his shoulders, far too light to hold much.

He was wearing an oversized coat that billowed around him, emphasizing his smallness. In his pocket, he carried a key: the key to his first apartment. A tiny room in a neighborhood he didn’t yet know.

At that moment, he had believed freedom would taste sweet. But as he stepped across the threshold of his new home, he realized that freedom was nothing more than an illusion. An empty, cold space didn’t provide the security or love he had spent his life longing for.

In his tiny studio, books became his only companions. He remembered those lonely nights, sitting on his old mattress surrounded by stacks of novels he borrowed from the local library.

He hoped—perhaps naively—that his life would one day resemble one of those stories: a life full of meaningful encounters, challenges overcome, and a bright future. But reality was relentless. Every day, it hit him, reminding him that his life was far removed from the ones he read about.

Another image flashed through his mind, almost ridiculous in its absurdity. He saw himself in the cramped bathroom at his first job, sitting on the toilet with a novel open on his lap.

The dingy tiles and the smell of disinfectant couldn’t distract him. Lost in the pages of his book, he had completely lost track of time. Then, the door had burst open, revealing his furious boss, arms crossed.

"Hiding in here to read? Seriously? You’re fired!"

The shame of that moment burned through him. He could still feel the flush spreading across his cheeks, the sting of humiliation, and the overwhelming sense that he had failed yet again.

Yet, even that day, as he packed his things, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the book. That book, battered and worn, was still his sanctuary, his only escape from a life that felt too harsh, too real.

Finally, he saw himself again on this rooftop, standing exactly where he was now. The biting cold, the void calling out to him, and the crushing feeling that nothing would ever change. He remembered every detail: the glow of fireworks, the distant sound of laughter, and the silence within him—deeper than anything else.

But he had never touched the ground. Instead, he had woken up, 18 years old again, with a voice in his head. A voice that had guided him, challenged him, and transformed him.

Lassen blinked, the cold reality replacing the memories. He was still staring at the roof, motionless.

In his mind, the system murmured

[Do you want me to make a sarcastic comment, or would you rather I stay silent this time?]

"You knew this was the place, didn’t you?" Lassen murmured.

[Oh, of course. But I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. You know, it’s a charming spot. A little chilly, but charming.]

Lassen closed his eyes and took a deep breath "Why are you here?" he asked, more to himself than to the system "Why me?"

The system stayed silent for a moment, as if pondering.

Then, gently, it replied [Because you’re desperate enough to listen, but stubborn enough to try.]

Lassen opened his eyes and stepped back. His features, once tense, had softened. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been seeking by coming here, but he knew one thing: this building was now just a memory. And he had changed.

He turned on his heel and walked back toward the car, where Adrian was still waiting, visibly concerned.

"Everything okay?" Adrian asked hesitantly.

Lassen nodded, a faint smile on his lips "Yes. Let’s go."

"Adrian" he said suddenly.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell Alex to buy this building" Lassen added.

Adrian glanced at his boss and nodded.

As the car pulled away, Lassen took one last look at the building through the rear window.

He would probably never see it again, but something inside him felt lighter.

That night, he had stared his past straight in the eye and, for the first time, he saw more than failure. He saw a beginning.