2026-01-25 01:38:08Mark woke up with the dull ache of a man who had slept without peace.
For several seconds, he lay still on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. A faint drip echoed from somewhere outside, water sliding through rusted pipes or broken gutters.
Morning light filtered weakly through the small window, casting pale streaks along the floor. Nothing felt different or new, or even miraculous in the slightest.
The memory of the previous night came back slowly—too slowly. First his encounter in the bar, then it blurred out to the alley and he remembered the pain.
The voice.
He exhaled through his nose and sat up, rubbing his face. His body felt sore, but not broken. If anything, he was surprised he could move at all. He glanced down at himself, half-expecting to see blood or bruises worse than the faint discoloration on his arms.
“Guess I did not die,” he muttered quietly, a hint of satisfaction on his mind.
That thought alone should have unsettled him more than it did, but it didn't.
Mark swung his legs off the bed and stood.
The room greeted him the same way it always had: cramped, tired, indifferent. His clothes hung from a single nail on the wall. A small table sat crooked near the window, holding nothing but dust and an empty cup. The air smelled faintly of damp concrete and old wood.
Life had not changed overnight.
He washed his face in the small bathroom sink, the cold water shocking him fully awake. As he straightened, gripping the edge of the basin, something flickered in front of his eyes.
He froze.
A translucent blue window screen hovered in the air before him, sharp and unmistakable.
---
[Quest Initiated]
[Encounter and Snatch the Wealth of Mr. Paul Alphonso]
---
Mark staggered backward, his shoulder bumping into the wall. His heart began to race, panic surging through him as he waved his hand through the air. The window did not disappear.
“What the hell is this?” he whispered.
The text remained suspended, glowing faintly. Beneath it, smaller lines of information began to form.
---
[Objective: Outsmart the target in his field]
[Time Limit: Pending]
---
A voice spoke—not from the room, but from everywhere at once.
“You must outmaneuver him to succeed.”
Mark spun around, his breath shallow. “Who is there?”
Silence followed, a sick deafening kind.
“No,” he said sharply, his voice rising. “Where are you? How are you doing this?”
There was no reply. Instead, a soft chime sounded, and a timer appeared beneath the quest.
The numbers began to count down.
Mark stared at it for several seconds before letting out a dry laugh. “This is it,” he murmured. “This is what finally broke me.”
He dressed quickly, his movements mechanical. He did not look away from the window until it faded slightly, retreating to the edge of his vision. It didn't vanish completely. It lingered, like a reminder that didn't want him to escape.
He left his apartment and headed to work, convincing himself that if he ignored it long enough, it would go away.
---
The restaurant was already busy when Mark arrived.
The clatter of plates, the low hum of conversation, the smell of food, all of it grounded him. This place was familiar. It was predictable. Real to him at the very least. He tied his apron and took orders, moving on instinct rather than thought.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then he carried a tray toward one of the corner tables.
As he set the plates down, the timer reappeared in full clarity.
[00:17:46]
Mark’s breath hitched. He glanced at the table.
Four people sat there, dressed well, relaxed. One man stood out immediately. He wore a tailored jacket, his posture confident without being stiff. A phone lay beside his plate—sleek, modern, unmistakably expensive.
The name from the quest surfaced in Mark’s mind and at once he recognized the man before him.
Mr. Paul Alphonso.
His stomach tightened.
Mark retreated to the counter, his thoughts racing. He was a waiter. What was he supposed to do? Insult the man? Lecture him? He had nothing to offer, nothing to compete with.
The timer continued to tick down without mercy.
Finally, he picked up his courage and returned to the table.
“Excuse me,” he said politely. “I hope you are enjoying your meal.”
Mr. Paul glanced up, irritation flickering briefly across his face. “It is fine.”
Mark nodded, then hesitated. “I hope you do not mind me saying this, sir, but… is that the Alphos X9?”
The man paused. Slowly, his expression shifted. “You recognize it?”
Mark forced a small smile. “I use the brand as well. Well a previous model at least.”
Interest replaced annoyance, amd Mr. Paul straightened slightly. “Then you know quality when you see it.”
The door cracked open and Mark seized it.
He asked questions—safe ones at first. About the phone’s design. Its processing speed. The man answered readily, pride evident in every word. The others at the table lost interest, but Mr. Paul leaned into the conversation, clearly enjoying the attention.
Mark listened carefully, storing every response.
The timer dropped under ten minutes.
He asked about the company’s growth. About consumer reception. About future upgrades. Each answer came easily. Too easily.
His pulse quickened as the timer dipped below three minutes.
He was running out of time.
Mark’s mind raced, frustration building. He was not smarter than this man. He did not belong in this world. Just as panic threatened to overwhelm him, a memory surfaced.
A small problem. An annoying one.
He leaned in slightly. “Sir,” he said carefully, “I had one issue with the X4. The adaptive battery algorithm seems to misjudge background processes after prolonged idle periods. It drains faster than expected.”
Mr. Paul frowned. “That is not possible. Our engineers accounted for—”
He stopped.
Then he laughed. “You must be confusing it with a different model. Maybe the X1 or even the X2 which had the issues with battery development.”
Mark shook his head. “No. I experienced it myself. It happens when the device syncs after offline use.”
The man waved it off confidently. “That feature is optimized. The system compensates automatically.”
Mark felt something click.
The timer hit zero.
---
[Congratulations. Quest Completed.]
---
The words appeared suddenly, bold and undeniable.
Mark stepped back, his legs unsteady. He did not wait for acknowledgment. He turned and walked away, his heart pounding, his mind spinning.
Behind him, Mr. Paul glanced at his phone as it rang.
His expression changed.
“Excuse me,” he said sharply, rising from his seat, but Mark did not look back.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter Eight - The Taste of Excess
The hotel lobby smelled like money.Not the clean kind but the heavy one — polished marble, muted gold lighting, voices lowered not out of courtesy but soft entitlement. Mark stood at the entrance for a moment longer than necessary, rainwater still clinging to the hem of his trousers, his shoes damp against the immaculate floor. No one stopped him. No one questioned him. That alone felt surreal.Moments later, he was seated.The restaurant was part of the hotel itself, an open, elegant space where crystal glasses caught the light and soft music hovered just above silence. A thick menu rested in his hands, its pages heavy, expensive looking. He did not skim through it. He dragged his finger slowly down the list, reading prices the way one might read insults.He ordered without hesitation.Steak he could not pronounce. Sides that sounded like entire meals. Desserts meant for sharing. When the waiter blinked, Mark smiled and added more. Wine first. Then another bottle “for later.” When
Chapter Seven - Ella and Eric
The rain did not fall gently.It came down in sheets, relentless and cold, drenching Mark to the bone as he stood beneath a flickering streetlight, watching water race along the gutters like everything he had left was being carried away with it.His phone was dead.His account was empty.His apartment was gone.His life was drowning in debts.There was nowhere left to go.The thought settled heavily in his chest, pressing down until breathing felt like work. He wiped rain from his face with the back of his hand, but it kept coming, mixing with the warmth gathering behind his eyes. He did not bother to stop it this time.He just let it pour, wash over him.He had nowhere to go, no one to call for help, no one's to ask for or repay a favor. Even if he decided to take up loan from banks or several investment companies, he had no way to pay back, nothing to use as collateral or down payment. Then her name flashed into his mind, like a gentle whisper.Susan.The name settled quietly in, f
Chapter Six - New Quest
Mark opened his mouth to speak.The words formed halfway, hovering behind his teeth, fragile and uncertain. He had not planned what to say, hell, he had not even expected to hear her say that. He only knew that he had to say something, that silence would turn that moment into a lie he did not intend to tell.“Susan, I—”The world fractured as it rolled off his tongue.A sharp, intrusive chime cut through his thoughts, loud enough that he flinched. The air in front of his eyes distorted, light bending unnaturally, and then the familiar translucent window unfolded into existence.-----[New Quest Available]------The letters hovered, cold and indifferent, blocking Susan’s face from view.Mark’s breath caught.His heart began to pound, hard and uneven, as if it recognized danger before his mind could process it. The timing was wrong. The place was wrong. Everything about it was wrong.Susan tilted her head, confused. “Mark? What is it?”He did not answer.The system window expanded furt
Chapter Five - A Familiar Face
Mark walked without direction, letting the city decide where his feet would take him.Cars passed him in a steady stream, their tires hissing against wet asphalt, people sealed away in warm interiors, insulated from the world. Mark remained outside it all, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, his thoughts drifting between disbelief and cautious wonder.A hundred million.The number still did not feel real.Every few minutes, his fingers brushed against his phone, an unconscious habit, as if the balance might vanish if he did not keep checking. It did not. The digits stayed firm and unmoving, quietly reshaping the rules of his existence.Yet despite it all, despite the system, the wealth, the strange calm settling into his bones, he felt oddly hollow.He crossed a familiar street and slowed without realizing it.Across the road, standing beneath the awning of a closed bookstore, was Susan.She was holding a paper cup with both hands, shoulders tucked in against the cold, h
Chapter Four - Understanding The System
Mark walked the quiet streets after leaving the station, his mind a tempest of thoughts. The cool night air clung to him, damp and heavy, and every step he took echoed faintly against the walls of the narrow alleyways. He did not know where he was going—he simply needed space, somewhere he could think, somewhere that allowed him to breathe without judgment.Eventually, he found a secluded street, dimly lit by flickering lamps. The emptiness around him created a strange sort of comfort. Here, he could speak aloud, though the words might not find a listener. Here, he could confront the reality of what had happened.Mark stopped and exhaled slowly. He felt the weight of the events pressing down on him. From the encounter with Mr. Paul, to the confrontation with the police chief, and then thr unmistakable, impossible presence of the system itself. The translucent window, the floating instructions, the robotic voice—everything defied logic. And yet, he had succeeded in both quests. Som
Chapter Three - Taken
Mark finished cleaning the last table of the evening, the hum of conversation in the restaurant dimming as the night wound down. Plates had been stacked, glasses wiped thoroughly, and the scent of fried food and roasted meat lingered faintly in the air. He hung up his apron and exhaled, rubbing the stiffness from his shoulders. Another long day was done. He had completed the quest, though he barely understood how. The system’s confirmation still burned faintly in his vision, ghostlike, impossible to ignore.He stepped outside into the night. The streets were slick with leftover rain from earlier in the evening, the light of the streetlamps glinting on the puddles in fragmented golds and silvers. Cars moved past in quiet streams, and the occasional honk broke the otherwise muted rhythm of the city. Mark adjusted the strap of his bag and began walking toward the bus stop, his mind replaying the events at the restaurant. Every detail of Mr. Paul’s reactions, every hesitation and assu
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