The Daily Sign-in Rewards System

CHAPTER 14 - THR WINNING NUMBERS

The insults appeared so rapidly that they blurred together into an endless stream of hatred, each new message replacing the previous one before Dylan could fully read it.

A quiet laugh escaped his lips.

It wasn't a laugh born from amusement.

It was the kind of hollow laughter that surfaced only when reality became so absurd that anger itself began losing meaning.

At that moment, everything finally became clear.

This had never been an interview.

It wasn't an attempt to explain the events that had occurred on campus, nor was it damage control after the scandal spread throughout the university.

It was a carefully orchestrated publicity campaign.

Amber had transformed the collapse of their relationship into marketable content, and judging by the ever-increasing viewer count, she was succeeding beyond expectations. Every tear she shed generated sympathy. Every accusation she made attracted more viewers. Every donation increased both her popularity and her income. The truth itself had become irrelevant because the audience wasn't searching for facts.

They were searching for entertainment.

Then, amid the endless sea of hateful comments racing across the screen, one particular message caught Dylan's attention.

Unlike every other viewer, the person behind that account wasn't joining the public execution.

"Dylan never struck me as the aggressive type. Maybe people should hear both sides before making judgments."

Dylan frowned slightly.

The username seemed strangely familiar.

For several seconds, he continued staring at it before recognition finally dawned on him.

Hailey.

Amber's closest friend.

His eyes widened in genuine surprise.

Out of more than two hundred thousand people watching the livestream, Hailey was apparently the only person willing to question the narrative unfolding before them. Although she hadn't openly defended him, her simple request for fairness stood in sharp contrast to the overwhelming hostility dominating the comment section.

Unfortunately, the internet had never been known for its patience. Within seconds, hundreds of replies buried her comment beneath a tidal wave of insults.

"Found Dylan's fake account."

"Stop defending abusers."

"You're just as delusional as he is."

"Amber literally cried. What more proof do you need?"

"People like you are the reason victims stay silent."

The attacks multiplied relentlessly.

Each refresh brought dozens of new accusations until Hailey's original comment disappeared completely beneath the overwhelming flood of hostility, erased so thoroughly that it was as though it had never existed in the first place.

Dylan continued staring at the screen without saying a word.

A few moments later, he released a slow, weary sigh. The brief exchange had reminded him of something both simple and painfully true.

The truth rarely mattered once public opinion had chosen a side.

Most people had no interest in investigating facts or questioning the evidence before reaching a conclusion.

They preferred stories that made them feel something. A compelling narrative, delivered with convincing emotion, almost always defeated quiet honesty. Amber understood that better than anyone, which was precisely why she had chosen a livestream instead of allowing the university's investigation to unfold naturally.

She wasn't trying to prove her innocence.

She was controlling the narrative before anyone else had the opportunity to speak and judging by the response, she had succeeded spectacularly.

Without another glance at the comments, Dylan exited the livestream.

The dorm room instantly fell silent.

The abrupt absence of thousands of voices, flashing comments, and emotional accusations created an almost surreal contrast to the chaos he had been watching only moments earlier. 

The only sounds remaining were the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional noise drifting in from the hallway outside.

Placing his phone on the mattress beside him, Dylan leaned back against the wall and slowly tilted his head toward the ceiling.

He expected to feel furious.

Instead, what settled over him was something far heavier.

His anger gradually faded, not because Amber's betrayal had become easier to accept, but because he no longer possessed the emotional strength to remain angry. The frustration lingered, as did the disappointment and bitterness, yet they were overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion that seemed to seep into every corner of his body.

He was simply tired.

Tired of constantly defending himself.

Tired of being misunderstood.

Tired of watching people believe the most convenient version of the truth without questioning it for even a moment. Most of all, he was tired of carrying burdens that never seemed to grow lighter no matter how hard he fought.

Tomorrow would undoubtedly bring new challenges. Brandon certainly wouldn't stop targeting him after today's events, Amber's livestream would only fuel even more rumors across campus, and his tuition deadline continued drawing closer with every passing hour.

Worrying about problems he couldn't solve tonight, however, would accomplish absolutely nothing.

Perhaps what he needed more than anything else was sleep.

Maybe several hours of uninterrupted rest would clear his mind enough for him to think rationally again. Even if sleep couldn't erase everything that had happened, it might at least grant him a brief escape from the relentless weight pressing upon his shoulders.

With that thought in mind, Dylan reached over and placed his phone on the bedside table before slowly closing his eyes, allowing his tense muscles to relax against the mattress.

Unfortunately for him, the mysterious system had no intention of letting the night end so quietly.

Just as the first traces of drowsiness began overtaking his consciousness, the familiar blue radiance silently illuminated the room once again.

Dylan had no idea how long he had been asleep.

The past several days had pushed both his body and mind far beyond their limits. Every ounce of strength he possessed had been drained by one catastrophe after another, leaving him with neither the energy nor the opportunity to recover. The emotional wounds inflicted by Amber's betrayal still lingered like an open scar, Brandon's brutal assault had left his entire body battered and bruised, the crushing burden of his tuition debt continued hanging over his future like an executioner's blade, and now the entire university seemed convinced that he was nothing more than an obsessive stalker because of Amber's carefully orchestrated lies. 

Misfortune had descended upon him with such relentless intensity that it almost felt as though fate itself had singled him out for punishment.

Ever since the confrontation at the restaurant, his life had spiraled completely out of control. Every morning seemed to introduce a new disaster before he had even managed to recover from the previous one, forcing him into an endless struggle where he barely had enough time to catch his breath.

By the time he returned to the dormitory the previous evening, both his physical endurance and emotional resilience had reached their absolute limits. Sleep hadn't simply been something he wanted—it had become something his exhausted body desperately demanded.

The moment his head touched the pillow, consciousness abandoned him almost instantly.

There had been no dreams.

No nightmares.

No memories of Amber or Brandon.

For the first time in days, his mind had surrendered itself completely to the darkness of uninterrupted sleep.

Now, as consciousness gradually returned, Dylan found himself staring blankly at the familiar white ceiling above his bed. Warm rays of golden sunlight filtered through the dormitory window, spilling gently across the room and bathing the furniture in a comforting glow. Tiny dust particles drifted lazily through the quiet air, dancing aimlessly within the beams of morning light while the distant sounds of students beginning another ordinary day floated faintly through the partially opened window.

For several long moments, he simply remained where he was.

His thoughts were sluggish, still struggling to emerge from the lingering haze of deep sleep, while his body felt unusually heavy beneath the blanket. Yet despite the stiffness lingering in his muscles, he quickly realized something that caught him completely by surprise.

He actually felt better.

Not completely.

His injuries certainly hadn't disappeared overnight, nor had the bruises covering his body miraculously healed while he slept. However, compared to the agony he had experienced yesterday, the improvement was impossible to ignore.

The swelling around his face had reduced noticeably, allowing him to move his jaw without the same sharp discomfort as before, while the persistent ache spreading across his ribs had dulled into something far more manageable. Even when he shifted slightly beneath the blanket, the pain no longer felt as though someone were driving a knife into his side with every movement.

The medication from the pharmacy had clearly begun doing its job.

A faint smile almost appeared on Dylan's face.

It wasn't much.

But after everything he had endured recently, even the smallest improvement felt like a blessing. He slowly stretched his arms above his head before letting out a quiet sigh, savoring the rare sensation of peace that had become increasingly scarce in his life.

Then the familiar electronic chime echoed directly inside his mind.

DING!

Dylan froze instantly.

His relaxed expression vanished as though someone had flipped a switch, and every trace of drowsiness disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Without hesitation, he pushed himself upright.

The familiar blue radiance materialized before him once again.

Countless shimmering particles gathered in the empty space above the foot of his bed before seamlessly assembling themselves into the translucent holographic interface he had first encountered the previous evening. The glowing panel hovered silently in midair, illuminating the room with its soft blue light before several lines of text gradually appeared across its surface.

[Daily Sign-In Successful.]

[Reward Generated.]

[Congratulations.]

[Reward: Tonight's Powerball Winning Numbers.]

Dylan stared.

Then blinked.

Then blinked again.

"...What?"

The confused whisper escaped his lips almost involuntarily.

For several seconds, he genuinely questioned whether his eyes were still adjusting after waking up because nothing about the reward made any sense whatsoever.

Yesterday's reward had been simple.

Ten thousand dollars had appeared directly inside his bank account, allowing him to verify the system's authenticity almost immediately.

Today's reward, however… It felt completely absurd.

As though anticipating his confusion, another holographic panel slowly unfolded beneath the first one.

Rows of glowing numbers appeared one after another.

[08 - 14 - 19 - 27 - 41 - 52]

[Bonus Number: 11]