His head screamed in pain—like nails drilling into his skull. He tried to move, but his limbs refused. Everything felt heavy. Numb.
Slowly, he pried his eyes open.
And froze.
A message hovered mid-air, faintly glowing in front of him like a ghostly projection:
[You have been cursed with the GhostCode]
[Bonding in progress... 70%]
"A message?" he asked himself, dazed.
His heart thudded.
This… this wasn't normal. What was he even looking at? He blinked rapidly. Rubbed his eyes.
"Cursed? No no no—come on, Adam. Wake up. This is just a nightmare."
But no matter what he did, the message remained. Floating. Unmoving. Unnerving.
[Bonding in progress... 77% complete]
He stared at it helplessly. His breathing became uneven, chest rising and falling as panic crept in.
Still... curiosity nudged its way through the chaos in his mind. He noticed a faint 'X' in the top corner of the message—like a cancel button.
With trembling fingers, he reached out to tap it, but his hand passed right through it.
A hologram. Intangible.
" Great,just great. What am I supposed to do then?" he murmured.
Before he could think of an answer, the message vanished—just like that. Poof.
Only now, in the top-left corner of his vision, a green bar appeared.
Next to it: HP: 100
He blinked again. "Is this... some kind of game simulation?"
As if responding to his thoughts, a new menu appeared—he hadn't even spoken a word.
A translucent window labeled [STATS] hovered before him.
Agility — 11
Strength — 6
Stamina — 10
HP — 100
"The hell…?"A cold shiver crept down his spine.
This wasn't just some glitchy augmented reality ad. This was inside him.
The stats floated like silent judges, branding him with numbers he didn't understand.
"Eleven agility. Six strength. Great. I'm weak, fast, and probably dying."
He touched his chest—still sore. "Cursed. That word again. Like I did something wrong."
It was like something out of a fantasy RPG. But this wasn't a game—this was real. He could feel his aching body, taste blood on his tongue, smell the rusted metal of the alley.
Then,from the corner of his eyes, he saw it—the suitcase. Still lying open on the floor.
And inside it, the empty donut container.
That cursed donut…
[Bonding process complete.]
A sudden pain exploded in his chest. Adam dropped to his knees, clutching his heart.
It felt like he was being stabbed from the inside out.
He gasped. Voices flooded his head—thousands of them. Screaming. Weeping. Whispering. Some begged for help. Others cried for mercy. For salvation. Some just laughed—an echoing, ghostly laugh that chilled his bones.
His black hair slowly turned ghost-white, strand by strand. His skin paled.
The pain began to subside.
[Analysis complete.]
[Level: 1]
[Skills: ???]
[New Quest: Defeat your first ghost within the next 24 hours.]
[Reward: ???]
"Quests? Skills? What the hell is going on?" he whispered, but the words felt hollow.
The interface didn't care about his fear. It just waited. Watching.
"If this system is anything like the arcade games at the underground mall,"
he mumbled, "then… does that mean I'll have to fight monsters? Raid dungeons? Is that even real now?"
He read the quest again. Defeat your first ghost in 48 hours.
"Reward, huh… I wonder what that's about."
With a shaky breath, Adam forced himself to stand. The pain had dulled to a low throb, but his body still felt foreign. Like it belonged to someone—or something—else.
''Thats it...I'm never eating another apple in my life''
'I need to get home''… he thought. 'I need to think.''
______________
Elsewhere...
On the busy streets outside the city center, a man was getting chewed out in a dark alley behind a warehouse.
"I swear, sir, I was only a block awa—!"
"Don't give me your damn excuses," growled the voice on the other end of the phone. "That package was classified. It's a prototype,and now it's in the hands of a lowly street rat, thanks to your incompetence."
The man in the coat winced. "I apologize, sir… ''
"I don't care! You let a critical asset escape. Do you realize what you've done?"
The call ended
''This should've been done by drone or armored van… but nooo, they said it had to be 'off-grid.' Idiots…"
Daryl—the courier,let out a breath of relief—until the soft, rhythmic click of footsteps echoed behind him.
He turned.
A tall man in a black coat stood there, face obscured by shadows. His eyes glowed faint blue beneath the brim of a cap.
"Wait—who are y—?"
....
Inside the silent, dimly lit warehouse, Daryl knelt on cold concrete—sweating, shaking.
His glasses were broken. His shirt was soaked with blood. He raised his head, trying to speak through swollen lips.
"I told you… I didn't know who he was… he just came out of nowhere…I swear" He tried to explain
A black-booted figure paced in front of him tall,dark and muscular. Behind him, two others stood still—silent, masked.
"You let a goddamn street rat steal the prototype," the lead figure said, voice calm, yet razor-sharp.
The courier coughed blood.
"I… I tried to chase him down—I really did but he was too fast… too slippery…"
The lead figure leaned down. "Describe him."
"He—he had dark hair. Brown eyes. Cargo pants. Maybe seventeen? That's all I got...Please…"
Silence enveloped the room. Then a low hum—followed by a flash of light.
A strange metal orb floated into the air behind the man, pulsing faintly.
"No... no, wait—what is tha—"
Pain exploded through his spine. Electricity surged into his body. His screams echoed through the warehouse. Bones cracked. Flesh sizzled.
The orb drilled directly into his back,creating a massive hole in his chest.
And then... silence.
The man collapsed, smoke rising from his lifeless form. The lead figure sighed and adjusted their glove.
"Useles," he muttered. "Clean up the mess. Notify the Recovery Unit."
"Yes, Director," one of the masked agents replied.
The Director turned toward the shadows.
'' Find the boy... The Code wasn't ready—and now, it's bonded to an unstable host."
They paused.
"If we don't retrieve it soon… he won't be the only one cursed."
...