Rejected by Her, Chosen by the System

EPISODE 6 – Infinite Cashback System

The countdown continued to fall. 01:02:47 Fred couldn't take his eyes off the timer.

Every passing second seemed louder than the last, as though an invisible clock had begun counting down the final moments of the life he had always known.

He slowly closed his eyes and pressed both hands against his temples. "No, this can't be happening."

Less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been planning to propose to the woman he loved.

Since then, he had been dumped, publicly humiliated before millions of strangers online, fired from his job, beaten by muggers, and robbed of nearly everything he owned.

Now, a floating blue screen expected him to believe that spending fifty dollars would somehow solve all of his problems.

A hollow laugh escaped his lips. "If I'm losing my mind," he muttered, shaking his head, "then at least my imagination has a strange sense of humor."

The System responded immediately.

[Psychological Assessment Updated.]

[Host continues to reject observable reality.]

Fred frowned. "Observable reality?"

[Correct.]

[Reality is determined by measurable outcomes, not personal belief.]

He stared at the glowing words; the response sounded less like a cold machine and more like a patient teacher correcting a stubborn student.

Fred looked around the alley once more, but Nobody reacted to the floating screen.

People walked past carrying grocery bags. A cyclist rode by without slowing down, and a taxi splashed through a rain-filled pothole before disappearing around the corner.

Life continued exactly as it always had, and only Fred remained standing still, staring at something that no one else appeared capable of seeing.

"So..." he said quietly, "can anyone else see you?"

[No.]

"And hear you?"

[No.]

Fred let out a weary sigh. "So everyone already thinks I'm crazy."

The System paused briefly before replying. [Statistically...]

[They reached that conclusion before my activation.]

Fred blinked. Despite everything that had happened, the corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smile. "That was almost a joke."

The System remained silent.

Fred sighed again. "I guess you weren't trying to be funny."

A loud growl came from his stomach. The sound echoed through the narrow alley, reminding him just how long it had been since he had eaten.

Dinner had never happened the previous night because of Chloe. Breakfast had been impossible after everything that unfolded at work.

Now the afternoon was slipping toward evening, and hunger was beginning to rival the pain from the beating. Out of habit, Fred reached into his pocket. It was empty.

The thieves had taken everything they could find: his wallet, his bank cards, his identification, even the cash he had withdrawn to buy groceries.

A bitter smile crossed his bruised face. "That's ironic."

The System waited without interruption. "I finally received a mission, and I don't even have anything left to spend."

The blue interface flickered. Fresh information appeared. [Financial Assets Detected.[

Fred frowned. "What?"

Bank Account Balance: $68.43]

His eyebrows drew together. "I don't even have my bank card anymore."

The System answered without hesitation. [Payment methods are replaceable, but Opportunities are not.]

Fred fell silent.

Then he suddenly remembered something: his banking application had been linked to the small digital wallet installed on his old smartwatch.

The thieves had ignored the watch because it looked scratched, outdated, and practically worthless. He slowly raised his wrist.

The cracked display flickered to life. His eyes widened. "I..."

A disbelieving laugh escaped him. "They missed it."

For the first time since the nightmare had begun, something had actually gone his way.

The countdown continued. 00:58:41

Fred stepped out of the alley and merged with the steady stream of pedestrians moving along the sidewalk.

Business executives hurried toward meetings, Students laughed as they walked together, Families carried shopping bags while street musicians filled the air with familiar melodies.

The city looked the same, only Fred felt completely different.

As he walked, his eyes drifted from one storefront to the next: a convenience store, A pharmacy, A bakery.

Spending fifty dollars wouldn't be difficult. The real problem was what would happen afterward. If he completed the mission, he would have almost nothing left. His pace gradually slowed.

The System had promised a reward. It had spoken about opportunity, but promises had lost all meaning to him.

Chloe had promised they would always stay together, Richard had promised promotions for hard work, and life itself had promised that dedication eventually led to success.

Every one of those promises had been broken. Why should this one be any different?

Fred tightened his hand around his wrist. "If I trust you," he murmured, "and you're lying..."

The System interrupted immediately. [The host is encouraged to make independent decisions.]

[The System neither persuades nor deceives.]

Fred frowned thoughtfully. "You sound very confident."

[Confidence is unnecessary.]

[Results are sufficient.]

Those words echoed quietly through his mind. Not promises. Results: That distinction felt strangely important.

Without realizing it, Fred stopped in front of a small men's clothing store. The shop wasn't luxurious.

Its faded sign had clearly spent years beneath the sun, and only a handful of customers browsed quietly inside.

Fred looked down at himself. His shirt was torn, and mud stained his trousers. His jacket had been ripped during the robbery. He looked less like a professional office worker and more like someone who had just survived a disaster.

A new suit would at least help him search for another job tomorrow. The thought wasn't entirely unreasonable. He took a step toward the entrance.

Then stopped. "No."

He shook his head. "What if I need the money for food instead?"

His stomach answered with another painful growl as the timer continued its relentless march.

[00:45:12]

Fred's breathing grew heavier. The pressure weighing on him wasn't caused by the countdown alone. It came from fear.

He feared making another terrible decision. He feared sinking even deeper into failure. Most of all, he feared placing his trust in something impossible.

The System displayed another notification. [Host hesitation exceeds recommended parameters.]

Fred almost rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say, because you don't get hungry."

There was a brief pause. Then another correction appeared.

[Correction.]

[I cannot become hungry.]

Fred stared at the screen before shaking his head. "You really don't understand sarcasm."

The System offered no reply.

Fred couldn't stop himself from letting out a tired chuckle. It was the first genuine laugh he had managed since the previous day.

He looked through the store window once again; a simple navy-blue suit stood on display. It wasn't expensive or flashy. It was simply clean, professional, and respectable.

For a moment, it looked less like clothing and more like the possibility of a fresh beginning. His reflection stared back at him from the glass. His face was bruised. His lip was split.

Exhaustion filled his eyes. He barely recognized the man staring back. Then another memory quietly surfaced. The elderly woman's gentle voice echoed in his thoughts.

"A stranger's kindness often arrives when hope doesn't."

Perhaps hope didn't always arrive in the form people expected. Perhaps it sometimes appeared as an impossible blue screen suspended in the air.

Perhaps it demanded courage before it offered proof. A soft chime interrupted his thoughts. The System projected a flashing notification across his vision.

[Warning.]

[Less than one hour remains.]

The timer glowed crimson.

00:40:59

00:40:58

00:40:57

Each passing second disappeared with relentless certainty. Fred swallowed hard.

His heartbeat echoed in his ears as he looked from the clothing store to the countdown, then to the cracked smartwatch on his wrist.

Every instinct told him not to do this. He had spent his entire life believing that poor people survived by holding tightly to every dollar they possessed.

That belief had shaped every decision he had ever made. Now, an impossible System was asking him to do the exact opposite. Fred drew one slow breath, then another.

At last, a faint smile appeared on his bruised face. "If life wants to play one last joke on me..."

He looked up at the glowing screen. "...then I'll laugh along with it."

His voice became steadier than it had been all day. "Fine."

He stepped toward the entrance. "I'll gamble on one last miracle."

The automatic doors slid open.

Behind him, the blue screen shimmered quietly, almost as though it had been waiting for him to make that decision from the very beginning.