Part 2Even Cold Billionaires Crave My Praise

As a professional layabout, I was thrilled. What’s better than a paycheck for doing virtually nothing?

The System, citing Archie’s diagnosis, managed to extend my deadline, giving me a few more weeks of blissful, low-effort living.

It was late summer. Archie wasn’t in school. My duties consisted of making three meals a day, light tidying, and making sure the small human didn't set the mansion on fire.

Day One: Archie quietly built an epic LEGO structure. I, perched on the plush sofa, devoured five romance novels on my tablet.

Day Two: Archie spent the entire day reading. I meticulously recreated every complicated, late-night food craving I’d scrolled past on Instagram.

Day Three: Archie spent the afternoon examining bugs beneath a massive old oak tree in the backyard. I happily sunbathed on the lawn.

I must have fallen asleep because when I woke, the sun was sinking. I called Archie to come in, promising him a decadent dessert.

I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but Archie dropped the rock he was holding so fast it looked like a cartoon. His pace quickened significantly as we headed inside.

Kids loved sugar. And honestly, this one was a breeze—quiet, calm, and zero drama. Nothing like the “mini-tyrant, ruthlessly stubborn” version of his father the System had warned me about.

System: “Hey, I only read the job description! But seriously, the kid seems fine. Host, maybe pick up the pace a little?”

Right. Back to the mission.