The light still lingered in front of him, pulsing faintly like it was thinking.
Eiran tilted his head. "You said something about… recruits?"
Yes.
"Recruits as in… employees? Soldiers? Guinea pigs?"
Recruits as in— there was a pause, and Eiran swore the voice cleared its throat— —your…slaves. Ahem.
Eiran blinked. "Excuse me?"
Figuratively speaking, of course.
"Right. Because 'figuratively enslaving people' sounds so much better."
You require high-growth potentials for our work. Individuals capable of contributing to research, invention, and structural expansion.
Eiran leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "And I suppose you expect me to pay these potential 'recruits' with my overflowing savings?"
You are, by all definitions, penniless.
"Thanks for the reminder."
Merely stating data. You possess zero financial resources, limited social capital, and a diet consisting primarily of instant noodles.
"Okay, now you're just being rude."
Observation, not insult.
Eiran exhaled slowly, half amused, half exasperated. "So, tell me something, System. Who are you really? Who made you? Why are you inside my head? Why me?"
There was a brief silence. The air seemed to hum with subtle static, like the world itself was thinking about whether to answer.
After each quest completion, I will provide one answer.
"One?"
Yes. One question, one answer. Privacy boundaries are a part of my protocol.
"Privacy. Great. My own brain's keeping secrets from me."
Think of it as… motivation.
Eiran sighed. "Motivation or manipulation, close enough." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the glowing sphere. "But let's be practical. You want recruits. You want a base. You want progress. I, on the other hand, have nothing—no money, no manpower, no tools, no influence. What exactly do you expect me to build this with? Imagination?"
Not entirely. I can provide assistance.
"Oh? Finally, some generosity."
A personal assistant. Artificially intelligent, human-like in function. It will aid in resource gathering, analysis, communication, and—
"Let me guess," Eiran interrupted dryly, "—fetching coffee?"
Among other tasks.
"Lovely. So you're giving me a secretary."
Think of it as an extension of yourself. A being with independent thought, yet bound to your directives.
Eiran raised an eyebrow. "That's both comforting and terrifying."
You will need it. Your next objective: find your first recruit and establish a base away from human interference or potential threats.
Eiran stared blankly. "Right. Just that. Find a genius partner and build a secret base. Easy."
You also require funding.
"Funding?"
Money. Currency. The illusion humans use to measure worth. Your assistant can help you earn it. For now, find a 'rich fish' and trap him.
Eiran blinked slowly. "Did you just say 'trap him'?"
Metaphorically. Mostly.
Eiran groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "You are the most morally suspicious lightbulb I've ever met."
And yet you're still listening.
He couldn't argue that. Curiosity had already hooked him too deep to back out now. "Alright, System. Where's my shiny new assistant, then?"
Patience.
"I've had patience my whole life. Try me."
Fine. Generating interface construct.
The air rippled again—softly at first, like light bending through water, then harder, until the edges of the room blurred. A faint hum spread across the walls, and for a moment, Eiran's books levitated an inch off the table before settling down.
Then, from thin air, a silhouette began to form—a woman's figure outlined in shimmering lines of light. When the glow faded, she stood there: composed, precise, faintly curious.
Eiran blinked. "Okay… I admit, that was mildly impressive. How exactly did you just violate every known law of physics in my living room?"
Quantum reconstruction via dimensional folding.
"Right," Eiran muttered. "Of course. Folding. Because physics apparently just takes the night off now."
The figure bowed slightly. Her eyes glowed with the faintest blue hue, her voice calm but warm.
"Good evening, Master. I am designated as Luma—your operational support unit."
Eiran stared at her. "Master? No. We're not doing that."
She tilted her head. "Primary user title: Master Eiran."
He sighed. "Fantastic. I've officially become a socially awkward villain."
You could have chosen 'Administrator,' the System remarked. You didn't ask.
"Noted."
Eiran leaned back in his chair, watching the new "assistant" explore his small apartment, scanning objects with a faint hum. "So," he muttered to himself, "I guess this is how it starts. A mysterious voice, a glowing secretary, and zero sleep."
Correction: the System's voice murmured, faintly amused, This is how it continues.
Eiran smirked. "Then let's see where 'impossible' decides to begin."
✦ End of Chapter 2 ✦