The silence of the sixth floor was heavy, broken only by the hum of fluorescent lights. It was the executive level, all polished granite and hushed reverence. The air here felt thicker, possibly with concentrated [Aura of Corporate Stress].
My immediate concern wasn't the lingering presence of Mr. Tanaka, but my dwindling energy. I needed the [Mid-Grade Ration (Rank D)] locked inside the vending machine.
Hidden Quest: Night Shift Sustainment Objective: Acquire a [High-Protein Snack] for sustenance. Location: The Sixth-Floor Vending Machine. Challenge: The Vending Machine is [Malfunctioning]. Requires [Skill Check] to operate.
I approached the machine. It was a standard model, but the coin slot was aggressively jammed, displaying a flashing ERROR 52—a common corporate failing translated into a personal threat.
I have 2 [Stamina Points]. I have [Dexterity 6] and [Telekinetic Hold (E)]. I cannot waste energy.
I searched the interface for a viable attack vector.
Target Acquired: [Vending Machine, Model V-9000, Durability: 500/500, Internal Lock: 8/10]
Exploit Options:
1.[Brute Force (Strength 4)]: Success Chance 0% (Will result in [Injury: Broken Hand])
2.[Repair (Coding C)]: Requires 15 minutes of focused diagnosis. Success Chance 60%
3.[Telekinetic Hack (Dexterity/Telekinesis E)]: Attempt to manipulate the internal mechanism. Success Chance 40%
Fifteen minutes of focused diagnosis would leave me vulnerable to discovery and would consume my meager Stamina reserves. I had to go with the high-risk, quick option: the Telekinetic Hack.
The goal isn't to fix the machine. It's to trick the lock mechanism into thinking a coin has been accepted.
I pressed my forehead close to the coin slot, visualizing the tiny, delicate metal levers inside. My Dexterity was now 6, giving me a slightly higher chance of fine manipulation.
Action: [Telekinetic Hack (E)]
Cost: 2 [Stamina Points]
Success Chance: 40%
I channeled my remaining 2 Stamina into the skill. The familiar pressure arrived, but the Level E skill provided just enough control to feel like I was holding a virtual pair of microscopic tweezers.
I targeted a tiny copper sensor, pulling it away from the metal guide rail by a fraction of a millimeter.
Click.
The Vending Machine's screen flickered. The red ERROR 52 vanished, replaced by the inviting green light of an available transaction.
[Stamina]: 0/10 (Initiating Regeneration)
[Telekinetic Hold (E)]]: 5% Progress to Level 2.
[STAT] Gained! [Dexterity] +1 (Stat now 6!)
Skill Check Success!
Victory! My Dexterity had saved me. I dropped my 100 yen coin into the slot and quickly selected the [High-Protein Snack].
The snack bar plummeted down the chute. But just before it hit the retrieval bay, the machine, seizing up one last time, locked the tray halfway down.
System Alert: Secondary Challenge! Quest: Acquire the [Mid-Grade Ration] (Still in the machine). Challenge: Item stuck in retrieval bay. Requires [Force] check.
Are you serious? It's mocking me!
My Stamina was at 0. My [Strength] was a pathetic 4. I couldn't shake the machine; that would trigger an immediate [Noise Penalty] and risk exposure.
I looked at the stuck bar. There was a tiny gap between the metal tray and the glass—just wide enough for my psychic thread.
I needed brute force, but not my brute force. I needed a high-cost, high-damage application of Telekinesis.
Action: [Telekinetic Smash (F)]
Cost: 5 [Stamina Points]
Current Stamina: 0/10
I had to wait. I closed my eyes and leaned against the cold machine, forcing my body into the isometric tension posture. I could feel the passive regeneration working, ticking 0.1 point per minute.
Five minutes passed. The entire sixth floor was silent save for the desperate drumming of my heart.
[Stamina] Current: 0.5/10
Not enough.
Seven minutes passed. My focus was absolute. I imagined the 50,000 yen bonus from Project Phoenix slipping away because of a 100 yen snack bar.
[Stamina] Current: 0.7/10
Just then, I heard the ping of the main elevator arriving on the sixth floor. Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.
My blood ran cold. The footsteps were heavy. Mr. Tanaka heavy.
I had thirty seconds, maximum, before he turned the corner. I had to use whatever energy I had. I didn't care about the cost.
I forced the visualization: a single, massive, psychic fist slamming down on the stuck snack bar. I channeled every ounce of my desperation into the effort.
Action: [Telekinetic Smash (F)] Cost Overload Attempted! (Required: 5. Used: 0.7) Warning! Extreme [Willpower] consumption detected. High risk of [Mental Strain] debuff.
A blinding white-hot agony tore through my head. It was worse than the ceiling fan, worse than the blueberry. It was the feeling of my brain being actively squeezed.
CRUNCH.
The snack bar, pulverized, fell into the tray.
[Stamina]: 0/10
[Willpower] Depleted! (Willpower stat temporarily reduced to 0!)
[Mental Strain] Debuff Applied (Effect: -50% Coding Efficiency for 3 hours.)
I stumbled, dizzy and nauseous, and grabbed the crushed, mangled snack bar. I threw it into my pocket and scrambled behind a large fake potted plant just as the footsteps rounded the corner.
It was Mr. Tanaka. He was wearing a fresh shirt and looking intensely refreshed.
He stopped, scanning the deserted hallway. He walked past my hiding spot, pausing right next to the Vending Machine, running a finger over the freshly fixed coin slot.
Tanaka [Suspicion] Level: 5%
He seemed satisfied. He walked off to his office.
I stayed behind the plant, gasping for air. The quest was complete, but I was ruined. My [Willpower] was gone, and my coding ability had been slashed in half for the critical start of Project Phoenix.
I pulled out the snack. It was a squashed, unrecognizable mess, but it was a [Mid-Grade Ration].
I took a large, desperate bite. It tasted like pulverized peanuts and plastic.
[Stamina] Restored: 4/10
[Willpower] Temporarily Restored: 1/3 (Due to sustenance.)
The surge was enough to clear the worst of the fog. I had survived, but now I had to code a major project with half a brain and a headache that felt like a tiny, aggressive psychic was trapped inside my skull.
Day one of the seven-day grind. Complete.