The sun bled across Armino City, orange and purple bruises smeared over the skyline.
Arin Aurante, twenty-one and already tired of existing, hunched on a park bench with an olive-green textbook cover pulled tight over the thick MILF novel in his lap.
Page 127: the landlady on her knees for the plumber. His throat went dry; his jeans suddenly felt two sizes too small.
Power had been out for two hours.
Rent had eaten two thousand Credits three days ago.
1880 Credits left.
He shifted his backpack over the obvious bulge and waited for the streetlights to save him from the dark.
They finally buzzed on, sickly yellow.
Arin snapped the book shut, shoved it into his bag, and trudged home.
Third floor, apartment 3-B.
The door stuck. Inside smelled like old noodles and broken dreams. Clothes on the floor, wrappers everywhere, one flickering bulb that hated him personally.
He kicked the door shut, slid the novel between two textbooks nobody ever opened, and muttered, "Wish i could hire a maid or something. Someone to cook, clean this pigsty…"
He fired up the electric kettle, yanked a cup of instant noodles from the fridge, and scrolled through his phone while the water boiled.
Photos of classmates in throbbing nightclubs. Skinny girls in glitter, all angles and no curves.
A long, bitter sigh.
"Hwaah~~"
"Those nightclub girls don't even have curves or anything to grab. Stick figures… How does anyone get hard for that? I just want Mrs. Jasmine to come back already," he muttered.
He poured the water, carried the cup to the desk, sank into the chair, and slurped the grey slop.
Between mouthfuls he fired off another round of QuinkedIn applications.
*Slurp-slurp*
No degree, trash grades, zero replies. Same story every day.
He finished the noodles and stared at the empty notification bar. Still nothing.
Frustration boiled over.
"Fucking useless jobs," he growled, slamming the tab shut.
He launched the cracked offline porn game he'd snatched from some shady corner of the net, his last remaining lifeline to sanity.
Hours melted away.
Until the screen glitched, flickered, and blacked out.
Arin's stomach dropped.
"Wtf," he murmured in shock.
He tried turning the power back on. Nothing happened.
"Shit… no, no, no—if this thing broke I'm actually finished," he whispered, voice cracking.
This laptop wasn't just a machine. It was ten full years of birthday cash, New Year's money from relatives, odd jobs, and skipped lunches.
His parents had never been able to afford one themselves. If it bricked now, there would be no replacement.
He hammered the power button again.
Nothing.
Again and again.
Still nothing.
Ten agonizing minutes passed; just him and a lifeless black screen staring at each other like enemies. Not even the small power LED glowed on the power button.
Tears surged, hot and unstoppable, blurring the dead screen into a black smear. Arin slammed both palms onto the desk so hard the laptop jumped.
He couldn't hold it in anymore.
A raw, ugly sound ripped out of his throat (half laugh, half sob) as his shoulders buckled.
*Sob… sob…*
"How can life be this cruel?" he choked out. "I hate this shitty existence. If I'd known it would end like this, I would've sold the damn laptop and eaten two meals a day this month… What's the point? No money, no future, no MILFs… still a fucking virgin at twenty-one, and now even my porn game is gone…"
The sobs grew louder, raw and ugly.
Then, a faint blue pulse.
The power button lit up.
"Huh…?"
Arin jerked his hands away, blinking through tears. The screen remained pitch-black, but three small dots appeared in the centre, pulsing slowly.
…
…
…
They vanished.
Bold white text burned across the void:
[ NAME: … … … ]
His breath hitched. Fingers trembling in confusion, he typed:
"ARIN AURANTE"
The screen flickered once.
[ PROCESSING… ]
[ DESIRE: … … … ]
He thought for a second and typed:
"SEX WITH MILF"
[ DESIRE: MILF (LOCKED) ]
[ PROCESSING… ]
[ SYSTEM: ]
A monochrome 2D dice materialised on the right side of the screen, spinning lazily.
[ PRESS ENTER TO ROLL THE DICE ]
Heart pounding against his ribs, Arin slammed the key.
The dice rolled and showed the number one.
[ PASSIVE SKILL CRAFTER ]
[ SYSTEM: PASSIVE SKILL CRAFTER (LOCKED) ]
[ SYSTEM INSTALLATION INITIATING… 0% … 7% … 19% … ]
The fan howled, a sudden mechanical scream that rattled the desk.
Emerald glyphs (endless columns of numbers, letters, symbols) poured down the black screen in relentless cascading rain, rising and falling like a living waterfall of code. Each line shimmered with a razor-thin white outline, sharp enough to cut the dark.
One by one, glowing entries snapped into place at the center, hanging in the torrent like verdicts:
[ NAME: ARIN AURANTE ]
[ DESIRE: MILFS ]
[ SYSTEM: PASSIVE SKILL CRAFTER ]
[ USER LOCATION FOUND: ARMINO CITY ]
[ INITIATING IN 3… 2… 1… ]
A sudden, deafening ping exploded inside Arin's skull, drowning out the world. His eardrums rang like cathedral bells; every sound turned into white noise. Gravity tripled in an instant. His knees buckled, and he crashed to the grimy floor, cheek pressed against cold tiles.
Pain detonated behind his eyes, white-hot needles racing down his spine, through every nerve, every vein. His vision flared crimson, then black. He tried to scream; nothing came out. The last thing he felt was his body seizing, muscles locking, before darkness swallowed him whole.
*blink… blink…*
A translucent blue panel materialized in the void, hovering inches from his face.
[ SYSTEM INSTALLATION COMPLETE ]
[ STATS : (VIEW) ]
[ PASSIVE SKILL CRAFT : (VIEW) ]
[ ACTIVE SKILL CARDS : 0/2 (VIEW) ]
[ DAILY QUESTS: (VIEW) ]
The other tabs stayed greyed-out, unresponsive. The system wasn't asking; it was forcing. A glowing arrow pointed insistently at CRAFT PASSIVE SKILLS.
Arin's trembling finger obeyed.
The screen split.
Left side: a floating 2D dice spinning lazily inside a square frame.
Right side: an empty square with a glowing + icon.
Bottom center: two dull, empty rectangular slots waiting to be filled.
Top-right corner: a small 2D trash-bin icon pulsing faintly.
He tapped the dice.
It rolled and shattered into light. A single card slid forward, crisp edges glowing.
[ LUST GAZE (F-RANK) : Any married woman who already feels even the slightest fondness for you will experience a rush of molten arousal the moment your eyes lock for 3 continuous seconds.
Every additional second pours more heat into her body and mind.
At 100%, her self-control shatters completely—she becomes a dripping, obedient mess who lives only for your commands.]
Arin tapped the card.
It slid downward on its own, locking into the first active slot with a sharp snap.
The border ignited in a deep, pulsing crimson, the glow spreading like liquid fire across the edges, as if the skill had just woken up and was hungry for its first taste.