The first thing he noticed was the cold.
Not the gentle kind that crept in through the windows on a winter night, but the biting kind—the kind that made his lungs ache with every breath and turned his fingers to stiff, pale sticks. He woke on rough stone, back curled around his stomach, half-covered by what might once have been a cloak but now was just a ragged patchwork of wool and dirt.
He didn't know where he was.
More pressingly: he didn't know who he was.
It took a long minute before he tried to sit up. His limbs trembled from more than just the cold—there was a weakness deep in his bones, like he hadn't eaten properly in days. Maybe longer. His fingers brushed the wall beside him, rough wood and stone, damp with condensation from the previous night's frost.
The alley around him was narrow and shadowed, hemmed in by the backs of wooden buildings, the kind that creaked when the wind picked up. It smelled of wet garbage, smoke, and something that had died a few days ago. There was no sound but the faintest rustle of wind and a distant hammering, rhythmic and sharp.
A town. Somewhere busy enough for a smithy, maybe. But not the kind of place that cared about a child shivering alone in its gutters.
His breath came in short, tight bursts. He hugged his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.
He had no name. No memories. His head felt stuffed with cotton, vague impressions that meant nothing. He knew how to count. Knew that water froze. Knew how to tie a knot. But nothing personal. No mother's face. No last name. Just a hollow void where identity should be.
A flicker in his vision made him freeze.
Not external—a shimmer that danced just behind his eyelids, flickering like a candle. And then, like it had always been there, a translucent window hovered in the air.
> [ROULETTE SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
Attributes: [Locked until first task completion]
Inventory: [Empty]
Available Tasks: [Daily Scavenge: Locate and collect 3 edible items. Reward: 1x Common Roll]
He blinked. The words remained, hovering faintly in the space before him, translucent but solid. Not a hallucination. Not a dream. He stared, unblinking, until it faded from view a second later.
Something inside him whispered that this was important. That this was the only thing keeping him from collapsing again, curling up and letting the dark take him.
He pushed himself up.
The pain was immediate—muscles stiff and cramping, stomach hollow and gurgling. But he forced himself upright, one hand on the damp wall, the other clutching the tattered cloak tighter around his bony frame.
He had a task. Find food.
For the next hour, he moved like a shadow through the alleys. He avoided the main roads, where carts clattered by and traders shouted at one another in harsh voices. He ducked under eaves, scrambled up low stone fences, and crept behind shops.
Once, a shopkeeper came out back to dump refuse and nearly spotted him. He flattened himself against the wall, heart pounding so loudly he thought it would give him away. But the man grunted and went back inside without a glance.
Behind a bakery, he found his first prize: half a heel of bread tossed into the trash bin, hardened and starting to mold. He broke off the bad parts and pocketed the rest.
Next came a cracked egg, left in a discarded crate near the back of a butcher's. The shell was chipped, the contents slightly runny but not yet spoiled. He stashed it in a scrap of cloth and kept moving.
His third find was pure luck. Behind a boarded-up house, in a strip of weeds pushing through the broken cobbles, he found a small patch of bitter red berries. He hesitated—were they poisonous? His stomach growled again, and something in him whispered that he'd seen birds eat these. That was good enough.
He plucked them carefully, chewing as he moved back toward the safety of his alley. They were tart, sour, but real.
As he swallowed the last one, the shimmer returned.
> [Task Completed: Daily Scavenge]
Reward Earned: 1x Common Roll
Would you like to spin the roulette? [Y/N]
He looked down at his trembling hands.
"Yes," he said, voice hoarse. It scratched in his throat like he hadn't used it in days.
The air shimmered. A translucent wheel appeared before him, spinning with colors and symbols he couldn't quite focus on. The segments blurred past—words like [Cloth Bundle], [Flint Shard], [Chipped Kunai], [Minor Healing Ointment]—before finally slowing.
Click. Click. Click.
> [Reward: Rusted Pocket Knife – D-Rank Item]
Something thudded into his palm. A blade, worn and rusted at the hinge, barely sharp enough to cut thread. But it folded, and it locked, and it was a weapon.
He stared at it, heart still racing. A knife.
He tested the edge with his thumb. It drew no blood, but it was better than his bare hands. He tucked it into the folds of his cloak and sat back down, pressing his back to the cold stone wall.
The wind blew down the alley again, rustling papers and dead leaves. Somewhere nearby, someone shouted, followed by laughter and the slam of a door.
He wasn't part of that world.
Not yet.
His hand closed around the knife handle.
He had a tool. A goal. A system.
And maybe, if he could keep going, a way to survive.
---
The next few days were a blur of hunger and scraping by.
He learned which backdoors had food left over. Which alleys dogs patrolled. Where the guards looked, and where they didn't.
Each day, the system gave him a new daily task—sometimes scavenging, sometimes cleaning a specific area, sometimes just walking a number of steps without stopping. Menial, basic things. But they gave him rolls.
Three days in, he earned an [Uncommon Roll] for completing three daily tasks without failing. He didn't hesitate. He spun it.
> [Reward: Basic Stealth Training Template – Lv. 1 Applied]
That night, he moved quieter. His steps no longer echoed on cobbles. He blended into shadow with an instinct he hadn't had before.
The first time someone looked straight at him and kept walking, not seeing him, he almost cried.
By the fifth day, he had a collection: the knife, a bit of rope, a scrap of tarp he'd fashioned into a makeshift poncho, and a tin cup. All earned or scavenged.
And still, he had no name.
---
On the seventh day, everything changed.
He was returning to his alley when he saw a man collapse in the street. Not far—just down the next block, where the cobbles sloped down toward the square.
No one stopped to help. People walked around him. A few muttered, annoyed. The man groaned, clutching his stomach.
He shouldn't have cared. He wasn't strong. He wasn't even safe himself. But something in his chest twisted.
He crept closer.
The man was older, maybe in his thirties, dressed in a traveling cloak with patches worn thin at the elbows. His eyes were bloodshot. Feverish.
He opened them briefly. Focused on the boy. His lips moved.
"Water…"
It was a whisper. Weak.
The boy looked down at the tin cup tied to his belt. Then at the well nearby.
He hesitated. Then ran.
He filled the cup and brought it back. Helped the man sip. Not much—just enough to soothe the throat.
The man coughed, closed his eyes again.
A minute later, the system shimmered.
> [Achievement Earned: Aid the Fallen Stranger]
Reward: 1x Rare Roll
He stared.
Rare.
He spun without hesitation.
> [Reward: Passive Trait – Danger Sense (Lv. 1)]
And just like that, something in the back of his mind shifted. A new sense—not sight, not hearing—awoke. A vague tingling, an awareness of threats.
He looked at the man again. Still breathing.
He would be okay. Probably.
The boy slipped away before anyone could question it.
---
Two weeks passed.
He had a name now—kind of. The butcher's assistant had muttered something after nearly tripping over him one morning: "Damn ghost brat."
Ghost. It stuck.
He liked it. It meant unseen.
Each day, Ghost earned something. A new tool. A minor skill. He learned to climb better, to move faster, to listen more sharply.
And then one day, a man offered him a job.
"You," the shopkeeper said, pointing at Ghost with a thick, calloused finger. "You're quick. Got quiet feet. You want food? I need errands run."
Ghost didn't answer right away. He looked at the man's stall—fruit, spices, and odd supplies. Legitimate trade.
His stomach growled.
"…Yes."
The man tossed him an apple.
"Start with that. Come back tomorrow."
Ghost bit into it, and for the first time, real flavor burst across his tongue.
The system shimmered again.
> [Milestone Reached: First Stable Shelter Opportunity]
Reward: 1x Epic Roll
Ghost stared.
Slowly, a smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.
He wasn't just surviving anymore.
He was living.
And the wheel… it was just beginning to turn.