SSS-Rank AI System: My Path from Failure to Supreme

As night fully blanketed the city, a black sedan belonging to the Alaric family cruised down the main road toward a newly opened five-star hotel.

The building towered high, designed with a modern mix of gray marble and glass panels that reflected the city's sparkling lights. A bright neon sign above the entrance read "Grand Mira Alta."

Once they arrived, Alaric stepped out first and politely opened the door for his father. He was dressed in a smart casual outfit: a clean white shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up, paired with dark trousers and leather shoes.

His father, on the other hand, already looked effortlessly stylish, wearing a light gray suit and a slim navy tie.

They walked side by side into the hotel lobby. Though grand, it was starting to quiet down as the guests from the opening event had begun to leave. The official ceremony had just ended.

"You can still catch up with them, Ric," his father said lightly, patting his back.

"They're probably still hanging out downstairs."

"Downstairs?"

His father smiled, pointing toward the elevator.

"Yes, at the club. Basement floor."

Alaric paused mid-step. His relaxed face shifted.

"The club…"

It wasn't a place he liked. Even imagining it brought a cloudy sense of unease.

It wasn't just the crowd or the loud music, but something else— a small paranoia that had stuck with him since middle school. A bizarre story from some random comic he once read that still lingered like an old ink stain in the corner of his mind.

"The MC was chased by a weirdo… in a club…"

Alaric swallowed.

"That was fiction, idiot," he muttered to himself. But his body still tensed.

It wasn't the club that scared him. It was who he became inside it. Someone unsure of what to say, where to stand, or who to be.

There was no time to back out.

The elevator opened. Warm lights lit the space inside.

"Come," his father said simply.

With careful, reluctant steps, Alaric stepped into the elevator. The soft instrumental music playing from the ceiling speaker offered a bit of calm, but the discomfort stayed tangled in his chest.

When the doors opened at the basement floor, the atmosphere shifted.

A subtle bass thumped from inside the club. Colorful lights pulsed like a heartbeat in the dark. Silhouettes of people chatted or sipped their drinks.

Alaric drew in a deep, steady breath.

The scent of expensive perfume mixed with alcohol greeted him. He walked slowly. Hesitant, but still following his father.

In a small VIP area that felt slightly more quiet, with round tables and plush lounge chairs, a group of men in their forties were having a relaxed conversation.

Some wore suits. Others just polo shirts but with expensive watches. One of them turned as Alaric approached.

"Oh, this must be Alaric."

A man with a neatly trimmed mustache stood up and extended his hand.

"Niel's son, right? Finally! Heard you're running international business now. Impressive."

"Hehe… thank you, sir," Alaric replied, shaking hands. His smile was polite, though his eyes moved quickly.

The beat still thudded in his chest, though the sound wasn't overwhelming. In the blink of flashing lights, he caught sight of a bartender pouring drinks, people laughing and chatting.

Some laughed too loudly, while others looked half-gone from the alcohol.

He tried focusing on the small talk, but it felt like he'd been thrown into another world.

"Too crowded…"

Just as another man started asking about the AI venture he was managing, Alaric spotted something.

A woman in a graceful red dress was sitting in the corner near the exit, sipping green tea from a small cup. Her face was familiar. She smiled calmly, accompanied by a man with glasses who seemed to be her husband.

It was Aunt Marissa.

A way out.

"Dad, I'm gonna say hi to Aunt Marissa for a bit."

His father turned and nodded. "Ah, yes. She's right over there. Don't be too long."

Without hesitation, Alaric made his way out of the circle of successful men. His steps were steady, not rushed.

The pounding music that had pressed on his chest earlier now felt a little more distant. He walked through the club's interior, down a darker corridor.

Blue and purple lights lit the floor and ceiling.

His eyes scanned left and right. Some people looked like they were already out of it.

Someone was laughing to themselves. Another was slumped over, lost in thought.

Alaric picked up his pace.

"Good thing she's near the exit," he thought.

Moments later, he was standing beside Aunt Marissa's table.

Her calm smile instantly made him feel safer. The heaviness he felt began to lift.

He greeted her.

And finally, he could breathe a little easier.

When he reached the edge of the quieter lounge, his eyes went straight to Aunt Marissa. The elegant woman in her burgundy dress sat calmly, sipping tea from her delicate cup.

Next to her sat a man. Alaric couldn't quite recall the face, but it had to be her husband— Uncle Jack. He was speaking softly while occasionally checking his phone.

But that wasn't what made Alaric pause.

To the right of the long couch sat a young woman, upright but clearly uneasy. She stood out, not because she was overdone, but because she didn't match the sparkling club vibe at all.

Her wavy, slightly curly hair fell gracefully to her shoulders, a mix of light brown and darker strands that shimmered like sunlight through the dusk.

She wore a pastel-toned semi-formal dress with delicate detailing on the collar and sleeves. Not a party dress. Definitely not something for a club.

Alaric knew that wasn't a coincidence. She wasn't the only one who felt out of place tonight.

"Alaric," Aunt Marissa greeted as she saw him arrive, her voice softening the unease still etched on his face.

"Wow, you've really grown. Even more handsome now."

Alaric gave a polite smile and dipped his head slightly.

"Hi, Auntie. It's been a while."

"Come, have a seat. This is Kayla."

Only then did Alaric realize that the girl was Kayla Evette. The name echoed faintly in his mind, but hearing it stirred old childhood fragments.

"Kayla… Evette?"

Kayla turned and gave a small, nervous smile. She reached out her hand.

"Hi, Alaric."

Her voice was soft. There was a shy, stiff tone in it, as if she too was navigating the same discomfort. Her eyes met his briefly, then looked away again. She clearly wasn't used to this setting either.

They shook hands.

And for a moment, all the club noise seemed to fade. There was something odd yet familiar, like rediscovering a memory you thought was gone.

"You don't remember, do you?" Aunt Marissa said, amused.

"This is Kayla— the one you used to tease when you were little. You always hid her Barbies and made her cry."

Alaric gave a small, sheepish laugh.

"Hehe… yeah, I remember. I was kind of a menace."

"A huge one," Aunt Marissa added with a laugh.

"You used to run around other people's homes, dash into the kitchen. Kayla would get scared and refuse to play if she knew you were coming."

Alaric scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed but amused. A part of him, the part that hadn't fully grown up still wanted to be seen as that mischievous kid who was loved anyway.

To be honest, the only reason he didn't refuse his dad's invite tonight… was because he was promised a coffee at his favorite café afterward.

It was that simple.

The coffee wasn't about the taste. It was about the moment. About sitting together without rushing, about time not spent on business or big plans. But just being father and son with no expectations, just presence.

And he realized there was still a part of him that needed that. A part that still wanted to be allowed to stay a child, just a little while longer, before the world demanded he grow up for real.

Now, he was standing in front of the girl he used to tease. And she had grown into someone far beyond a childhood memory.

He looked at Kayla for a moment.

"Kayla," he finally said.

"Wanna step outside for a bit? I'd like to talk."

Kayla turned to him. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away. She studied his face for a second, stealing glances like she was trying to figure out if the mischievous boy still lived behind his calm gaze.

She didn't answer right away. Her fingers fidgeted gently in her lap.

Kayla actually wanted to leave this place ten minutes ago.

The muffled bass from the club, the polished small talk of people twice her age, the lighting that was either too bright or not enough. It all blended into a kind of disorienting noise.

She didn't know what to say.

Didn't know how to sit. Even smiling felt like wearing someone else's clothes.

So when Alaric showed up, she thought it'd just be another polite exchange. But something about his presence felt... different.

Not in a way that made her anxious. In a way that felt like air. Like clarity. Like a life raft tossed into the ocean at the exact moment she thought she might just give up swimming.

She hesitated, of course. Because that's how she was. Always thinking a little too long.

But in the end, she took his offer.