Ethan dreamed of numbers.
Not figures or equations—prices.
Every sound had a value.
Every movement subtracted something unseen.
When he woke, the room felt heavier.
His phone lay on the desk, screen dark, but he knew the system was already active. It always was. The difference now was subtle.
Before, it waited.
Now, it observed.
[Status Update]
User Classification: Transitional
Access Level: Conditional
Cost Tracking: Enabled
"So it starts," Ethan murmured.
He sat up, rubbing his temples. There was no dramatic surge of power, no sudden clarity. Just an uncomfortable sense of being counted.
He opened the activity log.
Every interaction from the past twenty-four hours had been reprocessed.
Time spent hesitating before decisions
Frequency of glances at the screen
Micro-pauses while typing
Each line ended with the same phrase.
→ Cost Assigned
"You didn't charge me before," Ethan said.
[Costs existed previously.]
[They were deferred.]
[Deferred costs accumulate interest.]
Of course they did.
A new panel unfolded—clean, minimal, merciless.
Accumulated Balance:
Unpaid
Ethan laughed softly. Not because it was funny, but because panic would be inefficient.
"What happens if I don't pay?"
The answer came instantly this time.
[Payment is not optional.]
[Compensation methods vary.]
His phone vibrated.
A message from the same user as before.
You see it now, right?
Ethan didn't reply immediately.
He stood and walked to the window. Down below, people crossed the street, unaware that their lives were being lived on credit they didn't know existed.
I see the bill, he typed.
How do you pay?
The response arrived with no hesitation.
You don't.
You let it take what you don't notice losing.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
Sleep.
Time.
Opportunities that would quietly disappear and never feel like theft.
He looked back at the balance.
It didn't show a number.
It showed a direction.
Balance Trend:
Increasing
"So this is the real system," Ethan said.
"Not rewards. Not punishment."
Just accounting.
Another line appeared at the bottom of the screen.
[Notice]
Threshold crossed successfully.
Cost rate adjusted.
The words sat there, neutral and final.
Ethan closed his eyes.
He hadn't agreed to anything.
But the system never asked for consent—only confirmation through continued existence.
When he opened his eyes again, the city looked the same.
That was the most dangerous part.
Nothing had changed.
Except that from this moment on, everything would be charged.