Ring! Ring!
The sharp sound of the alarm clock atop the small cabinet beside the bed pierced through the silence of the bedroom, cutting it cleanly as if the quiet had never existed at all.
On the bed, beneath a white sheet, a figure lay still. Morning sunlight finally found its way through the window, slipping past the curtains and pouring into the room. It spilled over the bed in a warm glow, brushing against the thick white, patternless blanket that covered the lower half of the man's body up to his chest.
The light was brighter than usual—too bright. It pressed against his closed eyelids insistently until he stirred. His eyes parted slightly, blinking once… twice… several times in slow confusion before he forced them open fully, adjusting to the world as it reassembled itself around him.
Ring! Ring!
The clock continued its relentless cry. Though the alarm was loud enough to demand attention, it was the sunlight that had truly dragged him from sleep.
He stretched his arms up into the air, fingers spreading wide as tension left his muscles, a quiet yawn escaping him. His body shifted lazily as he began sliding the blanket off himself—then paused.
Something felt… off.
His eyes, still adjusting, faced the ceiling. And that was when he saw it.
Hovering above him was a transparent black screen. It resembled a hologram—thin, flickering faintly at its edges. White text floated across its surface in neat, mechanical precision. It looked exactly like a game notification window, the kind that appeared after logging into an MMORPG.
"What in the world…?" he muttered under his breath.
His eyes narrowed as he squinted, trying to sharpen his focus. The screen wavered slightly, like unstable light projected in midair. Its black background was translucent, allowing him to see the ceiling clearly through it.
White letters were written across it in a single sentence.
[Notice: Apocalypse will happen in 7 hours!]
He read it silently. Once. Then again.
And confusion only deepened.
His mind, still fogged from sleep, struggled to process what he was looking at—what the sentence even meant. Apocalypse? In seven hours? Was this some leftover dream bleeding into reality?
He pushed himself up slightly, supporting his weight with both elbows against the mattress. As his face moved closer to the screen, the screen itself drifted backward, maintaining the same distance from him as though it were aware.
'Am I hallucinating…?'
The thought finally surfaced, steady and cautious.
There was no denying it—it looked like a system window straight out of a game. As a gamer, he recognized the format instantly. The design felt original, though—darker, more ominous than the typical bright blue or silver interfaces he was used to seeing.
He slowly raised his arm, hesitating for only a fraction of a second before reaching out. His fingers met nothing. His hand passed through the screen as though slicing through empty air. No resistance. No texture. It was untouchable—intangible.
Yet he didn't panic.
Nor did he feel immediate excitement.
What filled him instead was curiosity. A strange, electric awareness that ran along his spine.
'This…'
His breath caught.
A realization struck him like a jolt.
He had read enough fantasy novels—stories about systems, chosen protagonists, worlds on the brink of destruction. The familiar pattern assembled itself quickly in his thoughts. A hidden interface. A warning. A countdown to catastrophe.
He gasped quietly.
Could this be it?
Could his life be changing at this very moment?
For a fleeting second, his heart pounded with something dangerously close to exhilaration. Was he chosen? Was he about to become the main character of this world?
But just as quickly, doubt crept in.
His excitement faltered under the weight of self-awareness.
'No way, right…? Is this real?'
A colder thought followed.
'Am I schizophrenic?'
He closed his eyes as tightly as he could and let out a heavy sigh, trying to calm his mind and push his thoughts aside for a moment.
When he opened them again, the text on the screen had changed. Now it displayed a completely different sentence, formatted exactly like a game interface.
[Task: Collect Items Stated Below]
[- Empty Journal Book: 0/1]
[- Pen: 0/3]
[Time Remaining: 4 Hours 58 Minutes 19 Seconds]
[Reward: Starter Kit]
'Starter kit?'
He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at the screen. For a moment, he silently read the text over and over again, letting the words sink in. Finally, he accepted the reality in front of him.
'...If. If I'm seeing this for real.' he thought, pinching his chin as he studied the screen. Suddenly, it flickered again and displayed a countdown for the impending apocalypse.
[Time Before the Apocalypse: 6 Hours 58 Minutes 8 Seconds]
He shrugged the blanket off completely and climbed out of bed. Before starting his usual morning routine, he took a moment to tidy up his bed. The blanket was perfectly lined across half the mattress, and the pillow was placed just so, as if no one had touched it.
He picked up a spray with a pleasant scent and misted it over the bed, leaving a fresh aroma in the air.
Finally, he stretched, rolling his shoulders and arms, and moved into his morning exercise routine to wake his body fully.
~~~
Edward Moses, a 22-year-old young man, was currently living alone in a spacious apartment. His job was nothing extraordinary—an office clerk in a company, a normal position with mid-class payment.
Edward had been living a life of survival on his own terms. Every day, he pushed himself to work, earning his salary without allowing unnecessary deductions, always aiming for bonuses instead. He wanted to pay off everything—to secure himself completely.
That was why he was considered rich as of now. Not excessively rich, but close—almost reaching a high-class level. And all of that was built purely from his hard work and persistence. He never skipped work, not even when he was sick.
He performed his tasks with precision, rarely making mistakes. Because of that, he often received bonuses and was recognized as a talented worker. There were even times he was offered positions elsewhere. But Edward had made what he now considered a mistake—he accidentally declined those offers out of loyalty to his current company.
So until now, he remained working at the same place.
But today was different. Today was a day off. Sunday, to be exact.
Inside his bathroom after taking a shower, he stood before the mirror, inspecting his body carefully. It wasn't vanity. It was a habit. He wanted to make sure he was in good condition—healthy and functioning as he should be.
As he examined his reflection, he saw his features looking fine and well-maintained. He had been working out at home consistently, doing everything daily without fooling around even once. He always "locked in" on what needed to be done. No distractions. No excuses.
His gaze lowered to his torso. Six-pack abs. A lightly bulging chest shaped through repetition and discipline. He admitted to himself that he had earned this physique. It wasn't talent—it was hard work.
However, compared to professional bodybuilders, he was still leaner than the average gym enthusiast.
His build was more like that of an athlete—balanced and functional. In a better description, his body was close to perfect.
Close or not, he didn't aim to impress anyone. He only wanted a body capable of handling heavy work if the situation ever demanded it.
After staring at himself for almost a minute, he let out a quiet sigh. He twisted the faucet halfway, and water flowed steadily from it. He cupped his hands beneath the stream, catching some water before splashing it onto his face, washing away the lingering warmth from his shower.
He reached up to the cabinet mounted above and pulled out his skincare products. Carefully and methodically, he applied them, maintaining his skin the same way he maintained everything else in his life—with routine and discipline.
Once finished, he stepped out of the bathroom naked. The bathroom was connected directly to his bedroom. Beyond the bedroom lay the kitchen and the living room, all part of the open layout of his apartment.
At that exact moment, an alarm began ringing.
His clock alarm hadn't been turned off yet.
'Ah… I forgot…' he thought, remembering he hadn't disabled it earlier. Since he had woken up, only about twenty minutes had passed.
He grabbed the clock and glanced at the time—9:21 AM. It continued ringing in his hand. The button on top, rounded and slightly worn from use, rotated sideways when pressed. He quickly pushed it down with his thumb, silencing the noise, then placed the clock back onto the small cabinet beside the bed.
'What should I do today?' he thought as he pulled a towel from the closet and wrapped it around his head. He rubbed it back and forth, shaking it slightly to dry his damp hair.
For a few seconds, he focused only on that simple motion. The fabric brushed against his scalp, absorbing the remaining moisture. When he was done, he used the towel to dry the rest of his body, methodical and unhurried. After finishing, he tossed the towel aside and walked toward his wardrobe to pick out clothes.
He still hadn't decided what to do today. It was his day off from work, yet he hadn't scheduled anything, hadn't planned anything at all. The emptiness of the day felt unfamiliar.
As he reached for a shirt, the memory of what had happened earlier resurfaced in his mind.
'...If I'm not dreaming nor hallucinating...'
His hand paused mid-motion.
'What would the apocalypse be? A zombie outbreak? A normal catastrophic event like in a typical disaster movie? Or a monster invasion… maybe even aliens?'
His thoughts wandered further.
'I haven't touched my hobbies in so long. Reading novels and comics, watching anime and donghua… all those fun things—I left them behind after I finished school…'
A faint crease formed between his brows.
'How long has it been? Four years without real entertainment in my life. And yet I can still remember some of those plots and stories clearly…'
A quieter, more uncertain thought followed.
'It can't be that I missed them so much that I started hallucinating, right?'
He stared down at the clothes in his hands.
'But if it's real, then…'
His expression gradually turned serious. The hesitation in his eyes faded, replaced by focus. It was the same look he wore whenever he set a new objective for himself.
He recalled the task displayed on the screen.
A Task and Reward system—that was what he decided to call it. So far, it had shown nothing more than notifications, objectives, and a countdown. Structured. Direct. Purposeful.
An empty journal book. Three pens.
He didn't know why he would need those items, but if the system specifically requested them, then they must hold importance. If the apocalypse was truly coming, then the task likely served as preparation for something ahead.