The chime had come again—at noon this time, just like it had at midnight. It was subtle, but undeniable. Whatever had happened, it was no coincidence.
As he walked back to his apartment, the weight of this strange new reality pressed down on him even harder. It was real.
Something was happening, and it wasn't just in his head.
But the question remained: what did it mean?
When Martin reached the apartment, he found Reggie still lounging on the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly. "Get everything?" Reggie asked without looking up.
"Yeah," Martin replied, placing the bag on the counter. His voice sounded far away, even to his own ears. The chime still echoed faintly in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that his world was no longer the same.
As he stood there, staring at the bag of groceries, Martin realized that this was only the beginning. The chime, the supernatural presence—it was part of something larger, something that was waiting for him just beneath the surface of his everyday life. But for now, he would take it one step at a time.
He had no other choice.
Reggie had been sitting on the couch for what felt like ages, flipping through channels, but Martin hadn't really been there—not mentally, anyway. His friend's strange behavior hadn't gone unnoticed, but Reggie figured everyone had their off days. Still, Martin's distracted pacing and muttering had become more intense, as though he were wrestling with something far beyond a bad day at work.
Reggie sighed, pushing himself up from the couch. "Alright, man. I'll get out of your hair," he said, stretching as he glanced at Martin. "You need some rest or… whatever it is you're working through." He flashed a small, understanding smile. "Take care of yourself, alright?"
But Martin didn't respond, his eyes fixed on a piece of paper he'd been scribbling on, his mind clearly a thousand miles away. Reggie hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed his jacket. "I'll see you later," he said, more to the empty room than to his friend, before letting himself out.
As the door clicked shut behind Reggie, Martin barely registered the sound.
He paced back and forth across the cramped living room, his thoughts racing as he pieced together the discovery of what he was now calling "the system."
In one hand, he held a pen; in the other, the crumpled notepad where he'd been jotting down notes, sketching out theories, trying to make sense of it all.
It's not random, he thought, it's got rules.
The chime at noon—the system had given him two choices, two distinct options after he'd spent money at the grocery store. One was monetary, and the other was something more abstract, more valuable but also unpredictable. He couldn't help but replay the moment in his head: the brief, almost instinctual urge to take the cash rebate without fully understanding the other option.
His train of thought paused for a moment as he stared ahead. There it was, the golden lines of text and the two options, still awaiting for him to choose.
As it turned out, the one minute limitation wasn't for the reward selection, but only for the action which would trigger it.
He paced around the room some more, and although he already made up his mind on what reward to choose, Martin continued to think.
He stopped in his tracks, staring at the notes on the paper. "Two triggers a day," he muttered to himself. "Twelve O'clock noon… twelve midnight."
At noon, the system activated, giving him the ability to earn back his spendings. But it wasn't just that—it wasn't fixed.
The multiplier could be anything, ranging from a modest refund to an astronomical gain. One to ten thousand times the value of what he'd spent. And the options... it wasn't just about money.
The system offered him a choice: take the cash, or take something of greater value, though the latter could be unpredictable.
He glanced at the eggs and vegetables he'd bought earlier, then back at his notepad. The possibilities churned in his head.
If he had spent more—on something significant, like rent or a car—could the system have offered him something even more substantial in return? A better house? A luxury car? It was wild, beyond anything rational, but it was real.
He'd felt the power as clearly as the chime that had rung through his mind.
Martin resumed his pacing, scribbling another line on the paper. But that wasn't all. The second trigger—midnight—was different. There were no spendings involved, no multipliers. The system granted him the ability to make a wish. A single wish, within the span of one minute. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked yet.
Could he wish for anything? Was there a limit? So far, all he knew was that the wish would carry over if not used immediately, but whether wishes stacked or expired… that remained to be seen.
He paused by the window, staring out at the city below. His reflection in the glass looked as tired and haggard as he felt, but his mind buzzed with the endless potential of what he'd uncovered.
"What does it mean?" he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.
"Why me? What's the catch?"
There had to be a catch. Powers like this didn't just come without consequence. But for now, he had only scraps of understanding, and the clock was ticking. If noon had brought a chance to multiply his spending, then midnight would bring something else—something bigger.
Martin sat down at the kitchen table, jotting a final note:
- 12 PM: Earn back spendings (1x to 10,000x)
- Options: Monetary rebate OR something of greater value (random).
- 12 AM: Make a wish.
- Duration: 1 minute.
- Effect: Unknown. Wish rolls over if unused. Limits unclear.
He stared at the notes, his mind racing.
What should I wish for? The question weighed on him. He could ask for anything—money, power, answers. But what if the system was trickier than that? What if there were rules he hadn't discovered yet?
There was no way to know until midnight came again.
Until then, all Martin could do was prepare—and wait.
He sat back down on the worn couch, his thoughts finally settling as he focused on the piece of paper in front of him, now crumpled from his earlier pacing.
The system's rules were still surreal to him, yet undeniably real. He couldn't ignore what had just happened—the choices, the chime, the powers. It was all connected.
He reached for his phone, his fingers tapping at the screen as he brought up his bank app. His balance blinked into view—$504, just like the system had promised.
His negative balance was made up for and now, he was in the green once again. It had been so long, he forgot what it felt like to feel liberated from the glaring red numbers in his bank account.
The rebate from his grocery spending had been transferred instantly, a surreal confirmation of the system's power.
He stared at the number for a moment, letting it sink in.
$984 for some eggs and vegetables, he thought, the absurdity of it making him shake his head.
But it was more than absurd—it was proof. The world wasn't just black and white anymore. There were layers, hidden mechanisms at play. Martin had brushed against something far beyond ordinary life, and the system was at the center of it.
With a deep breath, he leaned back and closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to when the system first appeared. It had been just one day ago, when he signed the lease for this very studio apartment, right after leaving his last job.
That moment, he remembered feeling the same strange sensation—the chime, the choices, though he hadn't fully understood them at the time. He had made the second choice without really knowing what it meant.
Now, looking back, he realized that choice had triggered the 10,000x multiplier. The rebate that day had been monumental, offering him either a large sum of money or something far more significant—a lakeside villa.
Martin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The villa. It sounded ridiculous even now, but he couldn't ignore the facts. He had chosen the second option, the one that didn't involve cash but something else.
A house—no, a mansion. It had felt like a joke at the time, something that couldn't possibly be real. And yet, just yesterday, an email had arrived from the city district's committee of legislation and real estate, confirming his ownership of a property.
He grabbed his laptop from the coffee table, quickly typing in his email password. His inbox loaded, and there it was again—the email he'd stared at for hours the night before, as if looking long enough might make it disappear. It didn't.
The message was from the real estate committee, attached with property deeds, signed and stamped with official seals.
His name, social security number, and credentials were all there. The address was listed in black and white: a lakeside villa, far outside the city, in one of the most exclusive areas imaginable.
It had to be real. But the question gnawed at him: Should I go check it out?