Of all the questions Alexander could have asked in that moment—after waking from that terrifying dream, after seeing a glowing blue screen floating in front of him—he somehow fixated on just one.
The identity of player 1.
"What even is a player? What is this…"
He blinked hard and lifted his gaze, realizing the screen wasn't fading away. Its light shimmered softly, illuminating his tired face. Then he recognized what it was. A stat window.
[Status: D-rank
Level: 0
Job/Class: Mana Conductor
Title: None
STR: 10 (Physical power, affects melee damage and carrying capacity)
AGI: 11 (Speed and precision)
Vitality: 9 (health and durability. Determines HP and physical resistance)
Intelligence: 8 (mental power and mana pool. Affects spell potency and total MP)
Luck: -15 (The probability of things going wrong is high.)
Perception: 28 (Awareness and compatibility with mana)]
There were other details too. A slim red bar marked "Health," showing the number 200 beside it.
Beneath it sat a blue bar for mana and a circular gauge that had multiple bars—fatigue.
In the lower corner, glowing faintly, were the words: "Available Ability Points."
Alexander stared blankly at the screen. His reflection wavered faintly on its surface, his confused eyes staring back. He hesitated, then reached out. His fingers brushed the glowing text—it felt cool and real, like touching a smooth panel of glass.
"It's real," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "At least it...feels real."
The more he looked, the more it resembled something straight out of a video game: strength, agility, intelligence, health bars—it all lined up perfectly.
But recognizing it didn't make him feel any better. If anything, it unsettled him even more.
"Have I finally gone crazy?" he whispered, lowering his hand. "The shock from that orc attack must've hit my brain."
He closed his eyes tightly, inhaled, and tried to clear his head. Maybe this was just fatigue—maybe if he opened his eyes again, the screen would be gone.
But instead of silence, a faint chime rang out.
His eyes flew open. The blue panel shifted, lines of new text replacing the old ones.
[Quest Info
Daily Quest: Train to become a formidable combatant
Goals
Push-ups [0/100]
Sit-ups [0/100]
Squats [0/100]
Run [0/10 km]
Caution: If the daily quest remains incomplete, the host will be fired from his job.]
Alexander stared for several seconds. Then, a small laugh escaped him—half disbelief, half hysteria.
"This… this system wants me to work out?" he muttered. "And if I don't, I get fired?"
The absurdity of it made him shake his head. Of all the strange things that could have happened, this had to be the most ridiculous. He waved his hand impatiently.
"Whatever this is, I don't have time for games."
The moment he thought that, the screen blinked and vanished as if it had never been there.
He sighed in relief and rubbed his eyes. "I knew it. It's all in my head," he said quietly.
"I really need to see a doctor or something."
Three sharp knocks broke his brief peace.
Knock. Knock. Knock!
The sound echoed through his small apartment. Alexander frowned and turned toward the door, irritation rising. Who the hell was knocking that hard this early?
He stood up with a low grunt, his muscles still stiff. His dark hair stuck up in messy tufts, like dried grass after a storm.
He hadn't even changed his clothes from last night. His shirt was wrinkled, his belt half undone.
He crossed the living room and swung the door open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind.
But the words froze in his throat.
"Hey, Alex."
Beautiful brown eyes met his. Standing in the doorway was a woman in a pale sundress, her blonde hair tied neatly into a bun.
The fabric swayed lightly in the morning breeze, outlining her figure. Sarah Williams—his ex-fiancée.
Alexander's grip on the doorknob tightened. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words.
"It's… in the back," he finally managed, stepping aside awkwardly.
Sarah walked past him without waiting for permission. Her perfume drifted faintly behind her, floral and expensive.
But as soon as she entered the apartment, her expression changed.
Her nose wrinkled. She looked around, her gaze moving across the cluttered table, the unwashed dishes in the sink, and the pile of clothes slumped on the couch.
Alexander didn't try to make small talk. He stood there quietly, his mind blank.
Somewhere deep down, he had always known Sarah never really loved him. She only loved what he could offer—the gifts, the meals, the security.
That had been his only experience with love: being used until there was nothing left. So his personality was that of a realistic pessimist, always expecting and accepting the worst.
"So… you already have a place to stay?" He asked carefully, scared of Sarah's temper.
Sarah turned toward him, visibly annoyed.
"Alex, what do you take me for? Who do you think you are?" she snapped.
"Do you think you can control my life just because you used to throw some money at me? You better wake up.
Unlike you—stuck in this dingy apartment looking like a homeless man—I've actually been moving forward."
Her words hit harder than he expected. He exhaled slowly, regretting the question. He regretted a lot of things, especially her. The money, the time, the energy—all wasted. But there was one thing he regretted most of all, probably because of how recent it was.
"Whatever," he said, forcing calm into his tone.
"I don't care who the new man is. I just want to know if you brought my license."
Sarah's posture stiffened.
A hunter's license wasn't something to be taken lightly. Losing one could lead to serious trouble, even imprisonment.
If a hunter's license was found being used illegally, the original owner could face serious criminal charges.
Especially if the situation surrounding its disappearance was caused by the hunter in question.
Alexander had known the risks—and still, because of love, or foolishness, he had lent Sarah his license so she could attend some high-end party.
When he saw her hand move to her forehead, he felt his stomach drop.
"We had a deal, Sarah," he said sharply. "I'd give you your things, and you'd return mine. Where the hell is my license?"
Sarah snapped, her voice rising.
"Really? You're pressing me over some stupid license you don't even use anymore? You're just a security guard, remember? What's the last time you went on a raid, weakling."
"Yes!" he shouted back. "I want it because it's valuable! Like everything else I gave you—and you wasted. Now I'm at risk of being locked up!"
Sarah scoffed, crossing her arms and looking at Alexander like he was something from under her shoe.
"Valuable? How many valuable things are we even talking about, huh? Because I don't remember any." She lifted her chin proudly. "Let me tell you something—my boyfriend is a B-rank hunter. The things he can do for me, you could never."
She placed her hands on her hips and started listing with a cruel grin.
"Can you buy me a Chanel bag? Hun?"
"How about a mana gem necklace?"
"Can you even get me into a hunter gala?"
She huffed. "Didn't think so."
Alexander didn't answer. The fight drained out of him. He sat down heavily on the couch and watched her gather her belongings, tossing them into a bag with careless movements.
A few minutes later, a knock came again—this time softer but sharper in tone. A middle-aged man appeared at the doorway, his brow furrowed.
"Alexander," the landlord said sternly, "would you keep the noise down? You really have some guts, kid. You don't even pay rent on time. And now, here you are disturbing the other tenants. This better stop."
Sarah let out a small laugh at that, clearly enjoying the humiliation.
Alexander rubbed his temples. He wanted to yell, but there was no point.
"I'm really sorry, Cory...I'll make the noise stop."
Cory respected Alexander and believed he would do what he said, so he let the matter go.
Alexander sighed and watched Sarah leave. That's all his life was about nowadays: sighs and grunts.
Then his eyes wandered around the small, messy room until they landed on the clock hanging crookedly above the counter.
9:45.
His heart skipped. He was late.
There was no time to change—it would look terrible to appear at the meeting spot without freshening up. However, it would look even worse to keep a major organization like the FBH waiting.
He snatched his phone off the table. The message was already there, glowing on the screen: the meeting details with the Federal Bureau of Hunters.
He raked his fingers through his hair, straightened his shirt, and grabbed his keys.
Blowing past Sarah, who was struggling to put her things in the car.
Alexander flagged down a taxi, heading for the Crimson Dining Restaurant.