The silence that followed Ethan's comment about page 142 wasn't uncomfortable—it was heavy. It was the kind of silence that happens when a stray cat suddenly speaks in a human voice. Isabella didn't look away. Her grey eyes, sharp as a surgical scalpel, scanned Ethan's face as if she were trying to diagnose the anomaly sitting across from her.
"You're an anatomy student?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave. The exhaustion that had clouded her face moments ago was replaced by a flicker of genuine intellectual curiosity.
Ethan felt a bead of sweat prickle his hairline. The +1 Intelligence he had just received wasn't a library of new information; it was more like a powerful search engine that had indexed everything he had ever glanced at in his life. He remembered a documentary he'd watched while distracted, a stray article he'd scrolled past on a late-night forum. Before, that data was junk. Now, it was organized.
"No," Ethan said, choosing his words with the precision the System demanded. "Just a hobbyist with a good memory. I tend to focus on the things that... keep the heart beating."
The double meaning was unintentional, but the Romantic System didn't care about intent—only results.
[ Affinity with Isabella: +1 ]
[ Total Affinity: 5/100 ]
Isabella flipped the pages of her textbook with a crisp thwack. She reached page 142. Her eyes darted across the diagrams of the mitral valve. A slow exhale escaped her lips. "It's a more concise summary. My professor loves to bury the point under three layers of jargon. You just saved me twenty minutes of frustration, Ethan."
She didn't go back to her highlighting immediately. She lingered, her pen poised over the paper. "Most people in this cafe are trying to look busy or trying to be noticed. You're doing both while trying to look like you're doing neither. It's... interesting."
Ethan felt his face heat up. This was the territory he feared—the moment a conversation moved from facts to feelings.
< Warning: High Social Pressure Detected >
< Passive Skill 'Calm Mind' activated (Temporary) >
A cool sensation, like a drop of peppermint oil in his brain, smoothed out the frantic edges of his anxiety. He didn't become a different person; he just became a version of himself that didn't want to run away.
"I'm just a guy having coffee, Isabella," he said softly. "But I think the System—I mean, the world—prefers it when we notice the details."
She tilted her head, a strand of dark hair falling across her cheek. She didn't tuck it back. "Maybe. Anyway, I should get back to this. If I fail this residency exam, the 'details' won't matter much."
Ethan nodded and turned back to his phone. He didn't push. He knew that in a slow-burn game, the best move was often to let the fire breathe.
Two hours passed in a strange, shared solitude. The scratch of Isabella's pen and the occasional clink of Ethan's coffee cup were the only bridges between them. When she finally packed her bags, she looked less like a soldier retreating and more like a woman who had found a small, unexpected oasis.
"See you around, Ethan," she said, her voice carrying a hint of a question, as if she were wondering if he'd actually be there next time.
"Good luck with the mitral valve," he replied.
As she walked out, the gold-trimmed panel flared to life in front of him.
[ Quest Result: Excellent ]
[ Total RP Earned: 25 ]
[ Bonus: 1 Intelligence Point (Temporary - 24 hours) ]
[ Balance: 40 RP ]
Forty points. It was a fortune compared to where he started, but a pittance compared to what he needed.
He walked home as the sun began to dip, the city turning a bruised purple. When he reached his apartment, the reality of his life slammed back into him. The peeling wallpaper, the smell of dust, and the blinking light on his router. He was still broke. He was still alone.
But as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, he noticed something new. The +1 Stamina from his morning workout wasn't a visible muscle, but he wasn't gasping for air after climbing the stairs. His posture was straighter.
< Host, the monthly Market is halfway through its cycle. > The System's voice was a silky reminder. < 40 RP is enough for a 'Minor Cosmetic Refinement'. Would you like to view the low-tier exchange? >
"Show me," Ethan whispered.
The scale icon appeared. The heavy hitters were still too expensive, but a new list of 'Micro-Adjustments' had appeared:
[ Dental Polish: ] Removes all stains and perfectly aligns the front four teeth. Cost: 30 RP.
[ Ocular Clarity: ] Removes redness and increases the 'sparkle' of the iris. Cost: 25 RP.
[ Skin Texture Level 1: ] Clears minor acne and tightens pores on the face. Cost: 40 RP.
Ethan looked at his skin. It wasn't terrible, but it was the skin of a man who lived on processed food and rarely saw the sun. It was dull.
"Skin Texture," he decided.
[ 40 RP Consumed. Commencing Bio-Refinement... ]
It didn't hurt. It felt like a thousand tiny, cool needles were dancing across his cheeks and forehead. He watched in the mirror, his eyes widening as the faint redness around his nose faded. The small, stubborn blackheads on his chin simply... vanished, as if airbrushed by an invisible hand. His skin didn't become "perfect," but it became healthy. He looked like a man who slept eight hours a day and drank nothing but spring water.
He touched his cheek. It was smooth.
[ Balance: 0 RP ]
He was back to zero. The rush of the purchase was followed by a cold realization: he had spent everything on a surface-level fix. To get the real power—the money, the strength, the deep-seated change—he couldn't just have 'good skin.' He needed to be bolder.
As he lay in bed that night, the System didn't give him a quest. It gave him a statement.
[ STATUS UPDATE ]
Charm: 11 -> 12 (Skin Refinement bonus)
Confidence: 2 -> 3
< You are building the foundation, Ethan. But tomorrow, the foundation must be tested. The first 'Target' was a coincidence. The second was a test. The third... will be a choice. >
Ethan closed his eyes, his mind drifting between Maya's warm smile and Isabella's sharp, grey eyes. He was broke, his muscles ached, and he had just spent his last 'soul points' on his complexion.
But for the first time in three years, he wasn't dreading the morning. He was waiting for it.
The silence of Ethan's apartment was no longer peaceful; it was oppressive. The hum of his computer, once a comforting lullaby, now sounded like a ticking clock reminding him of his dwindling bank account. He sat in his dimly lit room, the glow of the monitor reflecting off his newly refined skin—a cruel irony he couldn't ignore. He looked better, but he was starving.
He opened his banking app. $14.22.
That was it. That was the wall. The rent was due in less than ten days, and the "Financial Injection" in the System Market felt like a distant mountain peak he couldn't reach with his current meager points. He had spent his RP on his face, and while he didn't regret it, the smooth texture of his skin wouldn't pay the electricity bill.
He opened a job-seeking portal. The screen was a graveyard of "Entry Level" positions that required five years of experience. With a sigh that seemed to drain the last of his energy, he began the soul-crushing ritual of digital applications.
Name: Ethan Thorne.
Education: High School Diploma (Incomplete College).
Experience: None.
He typed, deleted, and retyped. He looked for remote data entry, night shift warehouse work, even anonymous content moderation—anything that wouldn't force him to look a human being in the eye. For hours, the only sound in the room was the frantic, rhythmic clicking of his keys. Each "Submit" button felt like throwing a message in a bottle into a vast, dark ocean.
By 11:30 PM, his eyes were burning, and the hollowness in his stomach had turned into a dull, aching cramp. He had applied for thirty-two positions. The silence from the world was deafening.
"I need to eat," he whispered to the shadows. "And I'm out of eggs."
He grabbed his hoodie—the black one that felt like a shield—and stepped out into the night. The city at midnight was different. It was lonelier, but for Ethan, it was safer. There were fewer gazes to avoid, fewer judgments to navigate.
The neon sign of the 24-hour convenience store flickered, casting a rhythmic blue light onto the pavement. As the automatic doors hissed open, the familiar scent of floor wax and stale coffee greeted him. He walked straight to the clearance section, his eyes scanning for the yellow "reduced" stickers.
"Back again? You're becoming my most consistent midnight guest."
Ethan flinched. He hadn't noticed Maya standing by the coffee machine, refilling the canisters. Today, she wasn't wearing her work vest; she had a simple oversized flannel shirt on, her hair messy as if she'd just finished a long shift.
He looked up, and for a second, their eyes met. Maya's expression shifted. She didn't look away immediately. She tilted her head, squinting slightly in the harsh fluorescent light.
"Did you... change your soap or something?" she asked, a playful but genuine curiosity in her voice. "You look different. Less like you've been haunted by a ghost and more like you've actually slept for once."
Ethan felt a jolt in his chest. The Skin Texture Level 1 was working. It was subtle enough that she couldn't point it out, but significant enough to break through his "invisible" aura.
"Just... drinking more water," Ethan lied, his voice steadier than usual. He picked up a loaf of bread that was 50% off. "And trying to stay awake."
Maya leaned against the counter as he walked up to pay. She didn't scan the bread immediately. She was watching him, her chin resting on her hand. "You look stressed, Ethan. More than usual. Is it the 'midnight bread' diet, or something else?"
Ethan hesitated. Usually, he would make a joke or just nod and leave. But the System's presence was a warm weight in the back of his mind, a silent encouragement to be real.
"I'm looking for a job," he admitted, staring at the credit card reader. "Applied to thirty places tonight. The world doesn't seem very interested in hiring a guy whose main skill is 'staying out of the way'."
Maya's expression softened. The "Affinity" meter didn't pop up, but Ethan could feel the shift in the air.
"The world is blind," she said quietly. She tapped her fingers on the plastic counter, thinking. "Look, this place isn't exactly a high-rise office in the city center, but it's steady. And honestly? My dad owns this franchise. He's been complaining for weeks that the night shift is killing him because he can't find anyone reliable who won't quit after three days."
Ethan looked up, his heart skipping a beat. "Your dad?"
"Yeah," Maya smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. "He's a bit grumpy, but he likes people who show up on time and don't talk too much. You seem to fit the bill perfectly."
She grabbed a scrap of receipt paper and scribbled a number on it. "Call this tomorrow at noon. Tell him Maya told you to call about the 'Ghost Shift'. It's quiet, you can bring your books or whatever, and the pay is actually decent because nobody wants to do it."
She pushed the paper toward him. As Ethan reached for it, his fingers brushed hers.
[ Affinity with Maya Vance: +2 ]
[ Total Affinity: 4/100 ]
[ New Quest Triggered: The Night Watchman ]
Objective: Secure the job at the convenience store.
Reward: 15 RP, +2 Confidence, First steady income stream.
Failure: -10 RP, Financial Crisis (Eviction risk increases).
Ethan stared at the number on the paper. For years, he had tried to disappear. Now, the girl he had been terrified to speak to was handing him a lifeline.
"Thanks, Maya," he said, and for the first time, he didn't lower his head. "I... I'll call him."
"You better," she winked. "I don't want to have to find another midnight regular to talk to."
As Ethan walked back to his apartment, the loaf of cheap bread in his hand felt like a trophy. He was still broke, he was still Level 1, and he was still a shut-in. But as he looked at the receipt paper in his pocket, he realized that the "Romantic System" wasn't just about finding a partner.
It was about the world finally starting to answer when he spoke.