The morning light felt like a spotlight, and for once, Ethan didn't want to hide from it. He stood in front of his meager closet, his heart performing a frantic rhythm against his ribs. To a normal person, choosing an outfit for an interview at a convenience store was a trivial task. To Ethan, it was a tactical operation.
He didn't have a suit. He didn't even have a dress shirt that wasn't wrinkled beyond recognition. He settled for a charcoal-grey polo shirt—the only item he owned that didn't have a video game logo on it—and his darkest jeans.
< Appearance is the first chapter of your story, Ethan. > the System whispered. < You have refined the skin; now, refine the presentation. >
He spent twenty minutes with a rusted iron, pressing the collar of his shirt until it was sharp enough to cut paper. He looked in the mirror. The Skin Texture reward from the previous night was still doing its work; his face looked clear, his eyes bright. He looked like someone who had a purpose, even if he felt like he was walking to his execution.
The "Golden Corner" store looked different in the daylight. It lost its neon mystery and gained a gritty, bustling reality. Ethan pushed the door open, the chime announcing his arrival like a bell in a boxing ring.
Maya was there, behind the counter, counting a stack of lottery tickets. When she saw him, her eyes lit up, and a genuine smile broke across her face.
"You actually came," she said, her voice a mix of relief and excitement. "I thought you might have bolted for the hills after our talk."
"I almost did," Ethan admitted, his voice low. "Multiple times."
"Well, no turning back now. He's in the back office. And Ethan..." she leaned over the counter, lowering her voice. "He looks scary, but he's just a man who takes his coffee too black and his business too seriously. Just be... you. The version of you that likes butterfly clips."
She led him to a small, cramped office at the back. Sitting behind a desk piled high with invoices was a man who looked like a weathered version of Maya. Mr. Vance had silver-streaked hair, a jawline like a granite cliff, and eyes that had seen forty years of retail war.
"Sit," Mr. Vance grunted, not looking up from his ledger.
Ethan sat. The chair creaked. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity, filled only with the sound of a ticking wall clock and the distant hum of the refrigerators.
Finally, Mr. Vance closed his book and leaned back, his eyes boring into Ethan's soul. "Maya says you're reliable. She says you're quiet. In my experience, 'quiet' usually means 'lazy' or 'hiding something'. Which one is it, Thorne?"
Ethan felt the familiar cold grip of panic. His throat tightened. But then, a subtle warmth spread from the back of his neck.
[ System Note: Passive Skill 'Sincerity Aura' slightly activated. ]
"Neither, sir," Ethan said, his voice surprisingly firm. "I'm quiet because I prefer to listen. And I'm here because I need the work. I don't have a fancy resume. I don't have many people to vouch for me. My parents... they moved to the coast years ago to 'find themselves,' and I stayed here to try and find a way to exist. I'm just looking for a place where I can be useful."
Mr. Vance's expression didn't change, but his eyes softened by a fraction of a millimeter. Mentioning his parents' abandonment wasn't a tactic for Ethan; it was a raw truth that slipped out under the pressure.
"The night shift is dangerous," Vance said. "Drunks, shoplifters, loneliness. It eats people alive. Why should I trust you with my keys and my daughter's safety?"
"Because I'm already used to the dark, Mr. Vance. I've been living in it for a long time. At least here, I'll be doing something productive while the sun is down."
Vance stared at him for another ten seconds. Then, he looked at the door, where Maya was leaning against the frame, watching with bated breath. He looked back at Ethan.
"I was going to put you in the cellar to count stock for twelve hours a day," Vance muttered. "But Maya thinks you have potential. And she's rarely wrong about people. I'm not just hiring a night watchman. I need a floor clerk who can handle the register during the evening overlap with Maya before the night shift starts."
He stood up, extending a hand that felt like sandpaper. "Standard wage. $15 an hour. Weekends are mandatory. If you're a minute late, don't bother coming back. You start tomorrow. You'll be working alongside Maya for the first four hours of every shift for training."
Maya let out a muffled "Yes!" from the doorway. Ethan stood, shaking the man's hand.
[ Quest Completed: The Night Watchman ]
[ +15 RP Earned. ]
[ +2 Confidence (Permanent). ]
As they walked back out to the front of the store, Maya was practically vibrating with energy. "We're going to be a team, Ethan! You'll see, the evening shift isn't so bad when there's two of us. We can grab pizza from the place next door during breaks."
Ethan felt a strange sensation in his chest. It wasn't anxiety. It was... warmth. For the first time in his adult life, someone wanted him around.
"I look forward to it, Maya," he said, and he meant it.
The walk home felt shorter. The $14 in his bank account didn't feel like a death sentence anymore; it felt like a bridge to his first paycheck.
When Ethan finally entered his apartment and threw his keys on the desk, the room felt different. The shadows weren't lurking; they were just waiting. He sat on his bed, ready to dive back into his digital world, but the System had other plans.
The air in the center of the room began to ripple. Golden sparks began to knit together, forming three distinct, glowing cubes that hovered a few inches above his rug. They weren't like the flat panels he was used to. They looked like ancient, lacquered chests, pulsing with a rhythmic, inviting light.
< A milestone has been reached, Ethan, > the velvet voice resonated, sounding almost proud. < You have secured a place in the physical world. You have gained the favor of a Target. You have faced a Patriarch. >
< To celebrate your first true victory, the System offers a Choice of Fate. >
Ethan leaned forward, his eyes reflecting the golden glow.
[ THE TRIAD OF THE BEGINNING ]
The Box of Physicality: Contains a gift to accelerate your bodily transformation.
The Box of Influence: Contains a tool to manipulate the perceptions of those around you.
The Box of Fortune: Contains a spark to ignite your financial or luck-based future.
< Choose one, Ethan. But remember: every gift from the Romantic System carries a destiny you must be ready to fulfill. >
Ethan reached out his hand, his fingers trembling as they neared the first glowing chest. The chapter of his life as a ghost was closing. The chapter of the 'Gardener' was about to begin..