The dream wasn't like sleep. It was like falling into a different layer of reality.
Evan stood in the temple. But it was vast, endless, the ceiling lost in darkness. The statue stood before him on its pedestal, no longer mossy and worn, but polished smooth, its features sharp and clear. It was a figure of indeterminate gender, one hand holding a heart, the other empty and outstretched.
The stone eyes turned to look at him.
A voice filled the space, not in his ears, but in the marrow of his bones. It was slow, grinding, like stone against stone.
YOU INSULTED LOVE.
YOU CALLED IT WEAKER THAN STONE.
NOW YOU SERVE IT.
YOU WILL LEARN ITS WEIGHT.
Evan tried to speak, to apologize, to beg. No sound came out.
The statue's outstretched hand pointed at him. FIFTY-ONE HEARTS. OR YOUR OWN STOPS. YOU ARE THE LESSON.
Evan woke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed. Sweat soaked his thin t-shirt. The first gray light of dawn seeped through his window. The timer glowed: [23:47:11].
He swung his legs out, feet hitting the floor. He needed water. He needed to shake the feeling of that voice.
He froze.
On his cramped, messy desk, centered neatly on a physics textbook as if on display, was the statue.
Not the life-sized one. A perfect replica, about six inches tall. The same pose. The same knowing, empty stare.
His breath caught in his throat. He lunged forward, grabbed the cold stone figure, and yanked open his dorm window. He threw it as far as he could into the scrubby bushes below.
He stood there, heart hammering, watching the spot where it vanished.
He turned back to his desk.
The statue was there again. In the exact same spot.
A cold, supernatural certainty settled over him. This wasn't just in his vision anymore. It was in his world. He was haunted.
The temple in the daylight offered no comfort. The caretaker was sweeping the same spot, his movements slow and rhythmic.
"It's in my room," Evan said, his voice raw.
The old man didn't look up. "It follows its student."
"What is it? What does it want from me?"
The caretaker paused, leaning on his broom. He looked at Evan, not with pity, but with a kind of weary recognition. "This place… old stories call it the 'Shrine of Unrequited Love.' Not for happy prayers. For the desperate. The lonely. The bitter."
He pointed a gnarled finger at the empty pedestal. "The god here wasn't always stone. Story says it was a god of affection who laughed at human heartbreak. As punishment, it was cursed to understand loneliness. To feel every unrequited love, every missed chance, every aching heart. It turned to stone from the weight."
He began sweeping again. "Now and then, it chooses someone. Someone who speaks the language of loneliness with true bitterness. It gives them its curse. To teach them the price of love it once mocked."
Evan's mouth was dry. "Teach them?"
"To value it," the caretaker said softly. "By making it a matter of life and death. By making you give everything away to receive it. The ultimate lesson in selflessness." He finally met Evan's eyes. "It is not a gift. It is a punishment. For you, and for the god. You are both serving the sentence."
The pieces clicked into place with terrible clarity. His own bitter words in this very spot. The system's cruel, ironic rules. He wasn't on a magical dating game show. He was in supernatural detention.
The weight of that knowledge sat on his chest as he walked across campus. The statue replica was in his backpack now, because leaving it in the room felt more violating. Its presence was a cold stone against his spine.
He saw Anna in the courtyard between classes. She was checking her campus mailbox. He hung back, watching, not daring to approach after the pizza success. He was learning. Patience. Observation.
She pulled out a small stack of envelopes. Bills, by the look of them. She sorted through them, her face its usual mask of concentration. Then she opened one. A white sheet with a prominent logo.
Her entire body went still.
The mask shattered.
Her lips parted. Her shoulders, always so straight and strong, slumped forward just a fraction. Her eyes scanned the page, then squeezed shut for a single, painful moment. When she opened them, they held a raw, desperate look Evan had never seen there. It was the look of someone staring at a wall too high to climb.
He could hear her voice, low and strained, as she pulled out her phone.
"Yes, this is Anna Chen, regarding account… I see. The payment was declined? But the insurance… I understand. No, I understand. Is there a payment plan? $3,000 by the end of the month? I… I will try. Thank you."
She ended the call and stood there, holding the phone and the bill, looking smaller and younger than he'd ever imagined her. The wind ruffled the paper in her hand. A medical bill. Her mother.
His own problems suddenly felt sharp and specific. Her problems were a vast, crushing ocean.
A new prompt flashed, brighter and more urgent than any before. It wasn't a mission. It was an alert.
[CRITICAL OPPORTUNITY DETECTED.]
[TARGET ANNA CHEN: CORE VALUE 'FAMILY' THREATENED.]
[ACTION: RESOLVE FINANCIAL THREAT (MEDICAL DEBT, $3,000).]
[IMMEDIATE REWARD UPON SUCCESS: FAVORABILITY +20%]
[NOTE: OPPORTUNITY EXPIRES UPON TARGET'S EMOTIONAL BREAKING POINT.]
+20%. A massive leap. It could nearly offset his early failures. It could be the key.
Hope, fierce and wild, surged in him. Then it crashed into the rocks of reality.
He had $127. System money, accumulated from the coffee, the pizza, a few other tiny, tested transactions. Money that vanished if he tried to use it for his own bus fare.
He needed $2,873. And he had 18 hours and 14 minutes to earn it.
By giving it all to her.
[TIME REMAINING: 18:14:22]
[SYSTEM FUNDS: $127]
[REQUIRED: $3,000]
Evan watched Anna carefully fold the bill, tuck it into her bag, and straighten her posture. The mask was back on, but it was cracked, and he had seen what was behind it. Not just an ice queen. A daughter, drowning.
The lesson of the stone god was clear. The price of a smile was everything you had.
He had 18 hours to learn how to pay it.