"Daniel. Hey. Wake up."
Daniel felt his shoulders being shaken again, harder this time.
He cracked his eyes open and immediately regretted it.
Mark Reynolds' face filled his vision, looming way too close.
"Jesus, thank fuck," Mark said, releasing him and leaning back in the chair. He let out a long breath and rubbed his face with both hands. "You were out cold. I stood here for a second debating whether I should poke you again or just start yelling."
Daniel blinked a few times and stared at the white ceiling.
"…Where am I?"
"Hospital," Mark said. "You collapsed outside the stadium. Dehydration. Scared the shit out of everyone."
Mark shifted in his chair and sighed, patting his thighs. "I told you not to be stubborn. This is a summer job, not the Marines. What's the point of grinding yourself into the ground for fourteen bucks an hour?"
Daniel turned his head slightly. White walls. A thin blanket. The quiet hum of hospital air conditioning.
Daniel swallowed, then said quietly, "Thanks."
"Don't," Mark waved it off. "You're an undergrad. I'm technically in charge. If something happens to you, it's on me."
He stood up and grabbed his bag.
"I already sent your hours in," he continued. "You got paid. And don't worry about the hospital bill—I covered it. It wasn't much."
Daniel frowned. "I can't just let you—"
"Yes, you can," Mark cut in flatly. "And you will. Also, you're done with outdoor shifts for now. Take a few days. Don't make me regret not lecturing you harder."
Daniel wanted to argue. Or apologize properly.
Instead, he nodded. "Thank you."
Mark gave him a short wave. "Get some rest."
Then he left.
⟨═══════ ◇ ═══════⟩
Daniel lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling.
"…Guess I need a new job," he muttered.
After causing that much trouble, there was no way facilities would want him back outside. And honestly, he didn't blame them. He'd pushed it too far.
He rolled onto his side and thought about the white space. The screen. The numbers.
It had felt too real.
He closed his eyes and whispered, "System."
Nothing.
"…Scholar Advancement System."
Still nothing.
His ears burned.
"Fuck's sake," he muttered. "Of course it was a dream."
He opened his eyes.
The hospital room was gone.
Pure white stretched in every direction.
The semi-transparent screen hovered in front of him, exactly as before. The rows of zeros stared back at him like an accusation.
Daniel froze.
Then clenched his fists.
"…Holy shit."
This was real.
A line of text appeared.
⟨ User, please select a mission ⟩
Daniel exhaled slowly and stepped forward, reaching out to the interface.
The moment his fingers touched it, a new panel unfolded.
⟨────────── ◇ ──────────⟩
Mission 1: Physical Conditioning
Description:
Scientific research requires endurance. You may need to outrun reporters, resist hostile environments, or maintain productivity for extended periods. Physical fitness is fundamental.
Requirements:
Run 5 kilometers within 1 hour. Think to begin the mission timer.(Failure allows repeat attempts.)
Reward:
20 experience points in any core discipline.
1 Lucky Draw Ticket. (100% low-value items)
⟨────────── ◇ ──────────⟩
Mission 2: Academic Networking
Description:
Academic success requires relationship management. If you do not wish to rely on social spending, you must learn strategic engagement.
Requirements:
Establish a positive relationship with Professor Alan Whitmore, Chair of the Department of Mathematics, UW–Madison.
(Minimum relationship score: 30)
Reward:
100 Mathematics experience points
400 General Points
1 Lucky Draw Ticket (97% low-value, 3% high-tech sample)
⟨────────── ◇ ──────────⟩
Mission 3: A Genius Student's Lifestyle Does Not Need an Explanation
Requirements:
Study in the university library continuously for 24 hours. Think to begin.
Reward:
Experience points based on book type and academic value.
100 General Points
1 Lucky Draw Ticket (90% low-value, 9% sample, 1% blueprint)
⟨────────── ◇ ──────────⟩
Daniel stared.
"…Wow," he said. "You even list the drop rates."
Then his eyes went back to Mission 1.
"Five kilometers in an hour? I almost died standing still."
Mission 2 made him grimace.
"Building relationships," he muttered. "Which translates to awkward conversations, fake enthusiasm, and eventually buying someone lunch I can't afford."
That left the third option.
He reread it.
Study. Library. Twenty-four hours.
"…That's it?"
The reward wasn't guaranteed, but statistically, it was the least insulting option. From a purely rational standpoint, it was obvious.
He didn't even hesitate.
"I choose Mission Three."
⟨ You cannot change the mission after selection ⟩
⟨ No time limit ⟩
⟨ Abandoning the mission incurs a penalty of 200 General Points ⟩
⟨ Current General Points: 0 ⟩
⟨ Confirm selection? (First reminder) ⟩
"Confirm," Daniel said.
⟨ Selection complete. Best of luck ⟩
Light flashed.
The mission slot updated.
Daniel took a breath. "Exit."
The white space dissolved.
⟨═══════ ◇ ═══════⟩
He was back in the hospital bed.
Daniel lay there for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything in his head.
Whether it was a hallucination, an experiment, or something deeply wrong with his brain didn't matter anymore.
He'd already accepted the mission.
He grabbed the cup of water and drained it, then stood up. A nurse checked his vitals and waved him off with a warning not to overdo it.
He left the hospital, took the bus back to campus, and trudged up to his dorm.
The door creaked open.
Only one desk lamp was on.
Evan Miller was slouched in his chair, one leg hooked around the other, a textbook open but clearly not being read. He glanced up, squinted for half a second, then said, "Oh. You're alive."
"Barely," Daniel said, dropping his backpack by the door.
"Word is you collapsed," Evan added. "Like people thought you were dead for a minute."
"Disappointing," Daniel said. "I tried."
Evan snorted.
Daniel crossed the room and opened his desk drawer. He dug through a pile of random junk—old receipts, a dead USB drive, a cafeteria punch card that should've been thrown out months ago. After shuffled through a mess of cards and folded receipts, he finally found his library card wedged behind an old syllabus.
He paused for half a second.
Then left.
⟨═══════ ◇ ═══════⟩
The night air was cool, heavy with the smell of grass and pavement still warm from the day. Leaves rustled overhead as the breeze moved through the trees lining the walkways.
Campus hadn't gone to sleep.
Clusters of students drifted past—some carrying backpacks heavy with books, others walking empty-handed and talking too loudly, laughter spilling out before being swallowed by the night. Someone jogged by, shoes slapping against the pavement in a steady rhythm. A bike bell rang in the distance. Music leaked faintly from an open window and then disappeared.
The library stood ahead, glass and stone rising out of the dark, its interior lights bright and steady.
It was just after eight.
Inside, the space opened up into quiet order—rows of desks, long wooden tables scarred by decades of use, shelves stretching upward like ribs. The air smelled faintly of paper, dust, and recycled ventilation. Soft footsteps echoed. Laptop screens glowed blue and white in the dimness. Someone turned a page. Somewhere deeper inside, a printer hummed.
Daniel stood just inside the entrance, looking around.
How long had it been since he'd come here to actually work?
He took a breath.
And walked in.