As Sophie left, Mike sank into the wooden chair at his study desk. It creaked under his weight—a familiar, sharp sound that he hadn't heard in twenty years. He ran his palms over the surface of the desk, feeling the scratches in the wood and the ink stains from pens that had leaked long ago.
He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady the frantic rhythm in his chest.
Twenty-two years. He let the number sink in as he scanned the room.
The space was a total time capsule. On the desk sat a stack of dog-eared textbooks and a Nokia phone that looked like a plastic toy compared to the sleek tech he'd left behind in 2032. Beside it lay a pile of loose-leaf paper, messy with half-finished math problems in a handwriting that was undeniably his, yet felt like it belonged to a stranger.
Mike's family was well-off; being sixteen and owning a mobile phone in 2010in a third world country like Myanmar was a massive luxury. In a country where a SIM card alone could cost a small fortune for most families, he had grown up with every cushion imaginable. It was no wonder he had lacked ambition in his first life, when almost everything he wants is handed to him, there's no reason to fight for more. Of course his family is not too rich like the top 0.01% but among the top 1-5% of the population in his country.
Is this Route 2? Mike wondered. A restart with all my professional experience and a map of the future in my head?
His mind immediately began to race. He could buy Bitcoin when it was worth pennies. He could invest in the startups he knew would become giants. He could be the richest man on the planet by the time he hit thirty. But just as the excitement began to surge, a sharp Ding echoed in the quiet room.
The golden screen shimmered into existence right in front of him.
[Dear Host, you are not permitted to invest in assets like Bitcoin or established startups. A second chance was not granted so you could exploit loopholes for an easy life.]
[This opportunity exists to see how you live when a second life is given. We will not assist you in your journey. We are here to observe and to limit you with rules that ensure your path is challenging. It must be entertaining for us to watch.]
[The only assistance you will receive is the ability to ask a question when you achieve a milestone we deem worthy of a reward. There will be no cheat codes. Your only 'edge' is the knowledge you already possess.]
[The following Rules are now in effect:]
Rule 1: You are strictly forbidden from investing or trading based on specific historical financial knowledge.Rule 2: You are not allowed to lie.Rule 3: You must exercise for at least 1 hour and 30 minutes every day.
[Additional rules may be added to further restrict your actions. Any violation will result in punishment proportional to the severity of the breach.]
Mike stared at the screen, his stomach dropping. Rules one and three were manageable; his family's wealth acted as a safety net, and while ninety minutes of exercise was a grueling demand for someone with his habits, it was physically possible.
It was Rule 2 that was the true nightmare.
He thought back to the white-hot agony in the void. That had been a soul-deep pain without a physical body to contain it. He couldn't begin to imagine how much worse it would feel now that he had nerves and a brain to register every spark of torment.
A specific phrase on the screen caught his attention: "Fun for us to watch."
Who is 'us'? Mike wondered, a chill creeping up his spine. Are these gods playing with the fabric of time for their own amusement? Or am I just a character in a story, and 'us' refers to an author and an audience?
Before he could spiral further into the existential dread, a sharp knock shook his door. It swung open before he could answer, and Sophie marched in. Seeing him still sitting at his desk in his pajamas, she exploded.
"It's been ten minutes! I didn't hear the shower running, so I knew you were just in here wasting time. As I thought, you haven't even moved!"
Mike's old instincts took over. He didn't want the lecture; he wanted her to leave. "I was just about to shower," he lied smoothly. "I was stretching and trying to find a towel."
The moment the lie left his lips, a violent sensation slammed into his mind. It wasn't a physical blow; it felt like a live wire had been plugged directly into his cerebral cortex. A surge of raw electricity fried his thoughts, bypassing his skin and striking straight at his brain.
Mike let out a strangled scream, his hands flying to his head as he doubled over.
"Mike! Are you okay?" Sophie rushed forward, her irritation vanishing into pure panic. She caught him by the shoulders before he could hit the floor. "What happened? Why are you hurt?"
Mike gasped, his vision swimming with white spots. His first instinct was to hide his weakness, to stay "comfortable."
"Yes, I'm okay," he wheezed, forcing a shaky breath.
Sophie looked at him with deep concern, her voice trembling. "Do you know why that happened? Do you want me to call Dad? Mike, talk to me!"
He grit his teeth, "I'm not sure why it happened... but I think I'm fine."
The second lie was his undoing.
A second shock, even more violent than the first, tore through his skull. It felt like his brain was being branded with a red-hot iron.
"MOTHERFUCKER!" Mike roared, clutching his head as he collapsed against Sophie.
The golden screen flickered into existence, visible only to him, pulsing with an accusatory light.
[Violation Detected: Multiple Breaches of Rule 2.]
[Lie 1: Claiming you were 'stretching and finding a towel' when you were contemplating the System.][Lie 2: Claiming you 'don't know why it happened' when you are fully aware the pain is a consequence of your dishonesty.]
[Punishment delivered. Cumulative penalty will increase for subsequent violations.]
Mike lay on the floor, chest heaving, the metallic tang of ozone stinging his nostrils like a lingering lightning strike. Sophie's frantic calls for their parents echoed down the hallway, but to Mike, the world felt distant. The cold, brutal reality of his new existence had just set in: the System wasn't just a passive observer; it was a sadistic warden. It was demanding total emotional transparency while holding a gun to his head.
As the throbbing in his skull began to subside, a desperate thought crossed his mind. If I can't lie, I'll just have to tell them everything. I'll tell Sophie about the heart attack, the void, the screen—maybe they can help me.
But the System was already one step ahead, reading his intent before the words could even reach his tongue. The air in front of his eyes shimmered with a menacing, blood-red hue.
[New Rules Added]
Rule 4: You are strictly forbidden from revealing your knowledge of future events.Rule 5: You are strictly forbidden from disclosing the existence of the System.
[IMPORTANT NOTE: Violating Rules 4 or 5 will result in the immediate death of the individual you inform, followed by twenty-four hours of constant shock therapy for the Host, calibrated at 100x the intensity of the previous penalty.]
Mike's blood turned to ice. The trap was absolute.
He was caught in a lethal contradiction: Rule 2 demanded total honesty about his motives, but Rules 4 and 5 turned that same honesty into a death sentence for anyone he spoke to. If he tried to explain the truth to save himself from a "small" shock, he wouldn't just face agonizing pain—he would be a murderer. The system had effectively turned his own tongue into a weapon against the people he loved.
The sounds of heavy footsteps thundered in the hallway. The whole house was waking up, drawn by Sophie's screams.
Think, Mike urged himself, his mind racing with the precision of the developer he used to be. I need to debug this. I have to find the logic that satisfies the honesty rule without triggering the secrecy violation.
He couldn't say it was a "medical condition," because that would be a lie. He couldn't say he was "he doesn't know why it happened," because that was also a lie. And he couldn't mention the System, or his family would pay the price.