Morning came, but the sky stayed dark.
Jason hadn't slept.
He sat on the rooftop of the old hostel, soaked to the bone, staring at the glowing city that never cared he existed.
Victor's words replayed in his mind over and over like poison on repeat.
> "Your mother always said your eyes looked just like mine."
It didn't make sense.
How could Victor know anything about his parents when Jason had been told they died when he was just three?
He tried to remember their faces, but all he saw were silhouettes behind smoke — flashes of gentle laughter, the smell of old perfume, and then nothing. Just cold emptiness.
His chest ached.
And deep inside that ache, the screen pulsed awake again.
> System Log:
Warning – Emotional stability below threshold.
Processing trauma response.
Task queue recalibrated.
Jason wiped his wet face, muttering, "What now?"
The holographic text formed slowly, almost softly, like the screen itself pitied him.
> New task: "Transform loss into value. Invest meaningfully."
Base funds restored: $50,000.
Time bonus potential: +5 days.
Failure cost: emotional degradation.
Jason blinked. "Emotional degradation? What does that even mean?"
But there was no answer — just the faint hum of the screen fading away.
---
He went downstairs, still trembling, and rented a small workspace with part of his funds. He didn't know why — maybe because doing something, anything, kept him from falling apart.
For the next two days, he worked nonstop.
He poured his energy into small trades and side investments, guided by the strange intuition the system had given him.
He could feel the right moves before they happened — where to buy, when to sell, which offer was honest and which one wasn't.
It wasn't luck anymore. It was instinct sharpened into a blade.
Money started to grow fast. Fifty thousand turned into a hundred, then two hundred.
But with each success, something in him dimmed — little by little.
---
By the third night, Jason sat in his dark apartment counting his profits, and realized something strange.
He should've been happy. He should've felt alive, relieved, proud.
But he didn't.
It was as if someone had switched off the light inside him.
The excitement, the hunger, the warmth — gone.
He stared at the reflection of his own empty eyes in the laptop screen.
> "Failure cost: emotional degradation."
That was it.
The system had taken something from him again.
This time, not a memory — but a piece of his heart.
---
The next morning, Stephanie called.
Jason almost didn't answer, but something inside him whispered that he should.
Her voice was small, guilty. "Jason… can we meet?"
He hesitated, but agreed. Maybe seeing her again would remind him what it felt like to care.
They met at the same coffee shop they used to share cheap croissants in when they were still struggling together.
She looked beautiful, but tired. Her red heels — the ones he'd bought with his first pay — were gone. She wore plain shoes now.
She smiled sadly. "You look… different."
Jason just nodded. "You too."
She looked down. "I wanted to explain about Victor."
He didn't speak. He just stared, waiting.
"I didn't love him," she whispered. "I was just tired, Jason. Tired of waiting for a miracle, tired of seeing you work yourself to death. He promised me stability. But it was all fake. He's worse than I thought."
Her voice broke. "He used me to get to you I'm sorry Jason I'll do anything you want I don't care please hear me out please
Jason clenched his fists under the table. "He's been in contact with me again," he said. "And he… he said something about my parents."
Stephanie looked shocked. "What? But your parents—"
"I don't know," Jason cut in. "Everything's a lie."
They sat in silence for a long time. Outside, the rain started again — gentle, like a whisper of sympathy from the sky.
---
The screen suddenly flickered inside Jason's pocket, startling him. He pulled it out. Stephanie gasped softly as it floated above the table.
> New notification: Task extension achieved.
Wealth milestone detected: $500,000.
Bonus: +5 days. Total: 74 days remaining.
Jason's lips twitched. The numbers meant survival — more time to live — but it didn't make him feel alive.
Then new text appeared.
> Hidden Rule: Emotional degradation increases with repeated extensions.
Warning: Human empathy threshold declining.
He stared at those words as they faded.
Stephanie reached out and touched his hand.
"Jason… what's happening to you you can tell me anything I'm always here for you
He almost said I don't know. But the truth was, he did.
He was changing. The more he gained, the less he felt.
He pulled his hand away gently. "I just have to keep moving," he said softly. "That's all."
---
Later that night, Jason sat alone in his workspace again, scrolling through Victor's online business news. Victor's company had just secured another major contract — the same deal Jason had unknowingly invested against a week ago.
He realized something: the market shifts that made him rich had damaged Victor's reputation slightly. And if he played smarter, he could crush him completely.
The thought should have filled him with satisfaction, but all he felt was quiet purpose — cold, controlled, almost machine-like.
He whispered to the empty room, "Fine. Let's see who breaks first."
The holographic screen glowed again as if it heard him.
> Task chain unlocked: "Rivals detected."
Surveillance active. Source proximity: 1.5%.
Data link found: Parents clue incoming.
Jason froze. "Parents clue…?"
The light dimmed again before he could ask anything more.
Then, faintly, the sound of footsteps echoed outside his window.
He turned and saw dark silhouettes in the alley below — men in black coats, standing near Victor's car. Watching.
Victor leaned against the car door, smoking, eyes fixed upward toward Jason's window.
Jason's chest tightened. Their gazes met — cold against cold.
Victor smiled faintly and mouthed the words, "Found you."
---
Jason closed the curtains and sat back in the dark, trembling for the first time in hours. His fingers brushed against the cross necklace — the one his grandfather had given him at the orphanage.
He remembered what the old man used to say before he died:
> "The cross doesn't just mark faith, boy. It marks blood. And blood remembers."
Jason's mind spun with questions. Why was Victor tied to his parents? What was the system? Why him?
His phone buzzed — a new text message.
Victor: "Nice work with the market. You cost me a deal. But it's fine. I'll take something else from you soon. Maybe your peace."
Jason deleted the message without replying, then opened the system screen again.
> Emotional degradation at 22%.
Next stage: Emotional detachment.
Note: Wealth increases durability, but reduces feeling.
He whispered to himself, "So that's the price."
He looked around his small, empty room — full of money but void of warmth.
He thought of Stephanie, of the old woman at the market, of his lost childhood friend whose name he could no longer recall.
He wanted to cry, but couldn't.
The tears just wouldn't come anymore.
---
That night, Jason dreamed for the first time in weeks.
He was standing in a field, sunlight all around, a woman calling his name — soft and kind. He reached out, but she faded into smoke.
Then a voice whispered behind him, low and mechanical.
> "You're losing what makes you human, Jason."
He woke with a scream, drenched in sweat, the cross burning against his chest like it was alive
The screen blinked awake one last time before dawn.
> Surveillance complete.
Message: "The watchers have eyes on you."
Next trigger: 'Empathy lost – link revealed.'
Jason stared at the glowing letters until they disappeared.
He didn't understand what they meant, but deep down, he felt something changing — something dark and irreversible.
He stood, pulled on his jacket, and whispered to the night:
"I'm not done yet."
Then he walked out into the rain — toward whatever waited next.