It took him a few hours before he finally decided to go home. Not because he felt better, far from it, but because his mind wouldn't shut up. Thoughts crashed into each other, loud and messy, so he walked.
No destination. Just movement. Just air. Just anything to drown out the echo of pain equals profit looping in his head.
The city had cooled by then. Neon lights flickered on. The alleys grew longer, darker, quieter. That was when he saw it. A small black cat. It limped out of the shadows near an alley, one hind leg bent at an unnatural angle.
Its fur was dirty, matted, one eye half-closed. It let out a weak, broken mewl that went straight through Mark's chest.
He stopped. "…Damn it," he muttered. He wasn't a hero. He knew that. Never had been. But there were things he couldn't ignore, and wounded animals were one of them. "Stay there," he said softly, crouching.
The cat panicked. It bolted,straight into the street. "Hey!" Mark didn't think. That was his first mistake. He chased after it without looking left or right, heart hammering, instincts overriding common sense.
The second mistake came faster. A roaring engine then a flash of headlights. Then the impact. He hissed. "Fuck!" Then unexpected pain exploded. White-hot. Bone-deep.
Mark hit the pavement hard, the sound of something cracking echoing in his ears. His ankle screamed in agony, fire shooting up his leg as the world spun violently.
"What the, " His scream tore out raw and uncontrolled.
A large motorbike skidded to a stop a few feet away. The rider turned. Looked at him. Smirked. Then sped off. No apology. No hesitation. No humanity.
"Fuck you!" He grumbled under his breath. He lay there shaking, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes despite his effort to hold them back.
"Damn it!," he hissed through the pain. With trembling arms, he crawled back toward the alley, every movement agony. The cat was there, miraculously unharmed, watching him with wide eyes.
"Come here… you little idiot," he groaned, pulling the cat into his arms. "You're lucky I'm stupid."
He cradled it protectively against his chest and forced himself upright, limping painfully deeper into the alley. His ankle throbbed viciously. Every step felt like punishment.
Then, DING.
A familiar blue glow flickered to life in front of him.
[ACCIDENTAL INJURY DETECTED.]
[SEVERITY: MINOR–MODERATE.]
[INCOME GENERATED: $100,000.]
Mark froze. "…What the heck?" So he wasn't hallucinating earlier?
Silence followed.
The cat shifted in his arms, purring faintly despite its injuries. It blinked then ran away from him. Mark stared at the screen, then down at his leg, then back at the screen. "One hundred…" His breath hitched. "Thousand?"
The money counter ticked up smoothly.
$100,000
He let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief. "So it's real," he whispered. The system wasn't done. The screen flickered again,this time, darker text appeared.
HIDDEN RULES UNLOCKED
Mark's stomach sank. "Yeah," he muttered. "There it is."
[RULE #1: PAIN TOLERANCE SCALING]
[THE MORE INJURIES SUSTAINED, THE MORE PAIN IS FELT.]
[SYSTEM DOES NOT NUMB PAIN BY DEFAULT.]
"…Excuse me?"
[SUBSEQUENT INJURIES WILL FEEL 1.2x STRONGER THAN PREVIOUS ONES.]
[SCALING IS PERMANENT UNLESS 'PAIN SUPPRESSION' IS PURCHASED.]
Mark laughed weakly. "Oh, that's evil."
[RULE #2: DESENSITIZATION PENALTY]
[REPEATED SELF-CAUSED OR DELIBERATE INJURY REDUCES REWARD RATE.]
His eyes narrowed. "So if I start punching myself for cash,"
[REWARDS WILL DIMINISH.]
"Figures."
[RULE #3: COWARDICE CLAUSE]
[ATTEMPTING TO AVOID PAIN WHILE CLAIMING REWARD RESULTS IN PENALTY.]
"…What kind of penalty?"
The screen pulsed. [UNKNOWN.]
Mark swallowed. "Threatening. Nice touch."
Then the final line appeared.
[RULE #4: DEATH IS NOT ESCAPE.] [RESETS ARE ABSOLUTE.] [NO ITEMS. NO MONEY. NO PROGRESS.]
Mark leaned back against the alley wall, breathing hard. "So let me get this straight," he said quietly. "The pain gets worse. The money gets harder. If I screw up, I lose everything."
[CORRECT.]
He stared at the glowing screen, jaw tightening. Then, he smiled. Not happy. Not relieved. His smile was something raw, pure and calculated. "…Fine, if this system wants pain," he muttered, voice low and steady, "then I'm not gonna bleed like an idiot."
The system pulsed once, approving or indifferent, he couldn't tell. Mark pushed himself upright, gritting his teeth through the pain, and limped out of the alley.
A man who had spent his whole life being stepped on…had just found a way to turn suffering into leverage. And he was done being reckless.
So Mark limped toward his apartment building, each step sending a fiery jolt through his swollen ankle. His jeans were smudged, his shoes scuffed, but he didn't care.
Pain had a new meaning now, money, power, opportunity. He could almost laugh at the irony.
As he shuffled along, his mind buzzed with possibilities. One hundred thousand dollars. The most he had ever earned in his life. Months of rent, groceries, bills, maybe even something small for himself.
And yet… he had no clue how he was supposed to actually access the money.
How do I even… withdraw it? Deposit it somewhere? Send it to mom?
Before he could spiral any further, a notification flashed in front of him:
[INCOME TRANSFERRED: $100,000]
Mark froze. "W…what?" he muttered. "Wow! I didn't even give you my account number."
The blue glow of the system pulsed faintly. He staggered into the old elevator of his building, pressing the button with one hand while holding onto the railing with the other. His phone was already in his hand.
He opened his banking app, and there it was. The balance stared at him in cold, digital clarity: $100,000.
For a moment, Mark just stared, slack-jawed. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. One of those ridiculous, giddy, I-can't-believe-this-is-real grins. He didn't even care about his ankle at that point.
A few taps later, the order screen lit up like a Christmas tree. Fried chicken, pasta, pizza, ice cream? Multiple flavors. Drinks? Enough to fill the living room. More chicken? Why not? Tonight, he was going to make sure his mother and little sister felt something they hadn't in a long time: abundance.
He confirmed the order, practically bouncing on one leg in the elevator. "Tonight…" he muttered to himself, voice thick with emotion, "tonight, we feast."
By the time he reached his apartment door, the warm, savory scent of fried chicken and pizza was already tickling his imagination. His family had no idea what was coming.