Nick raised an eyebrow and glanced around, curious to see how the consumable item would be delivered.
He waited patiently for about ten seconds until there was a sudden thud.
Jumping in fright at the sound, Nick promptly turned to the location of the sound and spotted a cuboid packet resting on the bedside table.
'Did… Did that thing just appear out of thin air?!' Nick, bearing widened eyes, collected himself, stretched, and picked up the item.
The rectangular item was about five inches in length and only an inch in width. The packet material resembled that of common medicine packets but was plain white, with little to no design.
On one side of the packet though, there were written instructions that read:
"Step one: Place the bottom part of the injector on the forearm or thigh.
"Step two: Press and hold down at a 90-degree angle.
"Step three: Use your thumb to push and release the top button to activate the device.
"Step four: Wait 10 seconds to complete the deployment."
Nodding thoughtfully, Nick carefully opened the packet and took out a plastic cylindrical container, also devoid of any design. However, it displayed a flowing green substance through a small, enclosed window.
"It looks nothing like the icon," Nick smirked and conducted a visual comparison, noting its thickness in relation to a whiteboard marker, although thinner.
As he held onto the consumable item, a surreal feeling washed over him.
Nick had a lot to say but could only voice in utter disbelief, "Huh."
As it turned out, he wasn't going crazy, and the stranger was really putting up a convincing show.
"So, everything about desires and attributes is like, real? Then what does the strange crow have to do with all of this?" Nick mumbled, finding this all too unbelievable.
Still staring at the autoinjector, he asked himself, "What am I going to do with this now? I don't think I'm currently lacking stamina."
Nick wanted to just try it out and see how effective it was but ended up tucking it into his pocket.
'I spent precious v-points to get it. I'll use it when it's really needed.'
After some mental adjustments, Nick came to terms with the fact that it was all legit, so he sought to grab this chance by the horns like he would a bull.
Sharply, he went over to the Help & Support tab to learn the rules, just like the female cartoon guide instructed him.
Seriously-faced, he commented, "We wouldn't want to lose such an opportunity due to negligence and ignorance of certain rules now, would we?"
Thinking about the female cartoon lady, Nick realized the voice in his head was the same as hers.
Five minutes into his read, his stomach grumbled again. He had just finished deep-cleaning the entire apartment on an empty stomach, so it was understandable. Now, there was already a biting feeling coming from his abdomen.
Sighing, the famished Nick tucked his phone away, got to his feet, and went to have his bath.
Done freshening up, he put his fresh, warm clothes—a black turtleneck and blue jeans—back on and left the studio apartment.
Nick's home was Apartment 305, on the third floor of a five-story red-brick apartment building in Montreville, a neighborhood on the left middle side of Orlande.
Water, electricity, good ventilation, and a laundry room on the ground floor of the apartment building were the amenities offered. At least on the surface, that was the case.
The majority of the complex's light bulbs and sockets were either broken or faulty, and water only rushed properly during specific times of the day. Nick was sure they had all been neglected on purpose to save money on utility costs.
The location had lost all charm due to persistent pipe leaks that dampened the walls and ceilings. Additionally, it had been a while since the building had been repainted, so the red bricks that adorned its outer entirety looked heavily washed.
Nick nonetheless paid $839.20 in rent for the one-bedroom apartment, plus an additional $182.43 for utilities, for a total cost of approximately $12,000 annually.
By using sound urban planning and policy, Neapolis was able to reduce the burden on netizens in terms of housing and the average cost of living, unlike other places in the United States.
Simply put, Orlande was designed to be a working-class borough, with apartment prices rising as one got closer to Greensly—the lower-middle-class borough—and falling as one got closer to Queensgate—the underclass borough.
This way, people would find it simpler to go about their daily lives, which in turn could increase the likelihood that they will succeed, which benefits the city and boosts the economy. An ideal cycle.
Nick walked out to the streets with his arms in his pocket, and his upper body slouching.
He witnessed individuals go about their day and was indifferent to the sights of the congested apartment buildings with little to no green spaces and power lines running from place to place. There were also a few cars, delivery trucks, and so on parked here and there.
The corners of the wide, tarred road were clogged with trash. The atmosphere was heavy and damp from the dense cluster of buildings and the current winter weather.
As though invisible, nobody minded Nick as he walked down the road.
Not long after, he reached Nana's Kitchen, a small diner close to the intersection.
Gring~
The bell rang out, announcing Nick's entrance.
His gaze fell on the pale, white-skinned elderly lady in a yellow-and-red apron. She was seated at the edge of the counter, handling the cash register machine right in front of her.
Nick greeted the older lady, Nana, and exchanged pleasantries with her. Then, he surveyed the menu plastered on the flat surface of the counter after being asked what he wanted to eat.
A dish quickly caught Nick's eye and he made his pick.
"One bowl of ramyeon, please."
Nana smiled. "Same as always."
Nick smiled too. "It's the best."
"But it's also the cheapest," Nana said, giving him the side-eye.
Nick made a confused expression and asked after a few seconds, "What's the difference?"
Nana just laughed and screamed for her son, Eugene, to come out and prepare the dish.
As Nick stood and waited for his meal, he briefly scanned the diner.
It was a compact space, enough for about six tables with chairs for customers to sit and eat.
Two individuals were eating, and the waiter, who was dressed in unusually formal attire, was cleaning the other tables. Nick figured there weren't that many customers because it was past the morning rush hour.
Eugene, behind the counter, paused what he was doing, leaned closer to Nick, and whispered, "Hey, I've got some new 'stuff'…"
Casually about to engage Eugene, Nick's mind suddenly raced. He quickly turned around again and gave the unusually dressed waiter a proper look before blurting out,
"Tony?!"
The waiter heard the name, raised his head, and turned. The young man had olive skin, neatly styled dark hair, and tired brown eyes framed by a pair of retro square glasses. He was fairly handsome.
After a second or two, he flashed Nick a friendly smile.
"Oh, Nick. Good morning."
Tony had on a collared shirt, well-fitted black trousers, and polished shoes. His sense of corporate fashion clarified why he was drawn to pricey $1,400 oxfords like the pair he had previously lent Nick.
However, why on earth was he wiping down tables for this small diner now?
"You didn't go to work?" Nick asked, perplexed.
Tony's smile dimmed and he let out a brief sigh.
"I was laid off last week. So, I asked Mr. Han here for a job, and he was kind enough to employ me."
Eugene told a joke from behind the counter, but Nick didn't laugh.
From what he knew, Emma had been pregnant for a long while now, and in the coming month or two, she would give birth. Tony was a soon-to-be father! Him losing his job at this critical time was absolutely not a joking matter. Also, the joke was dry anyway.
"Damn, does—" Nick paused, glanced around, and took a few steps closer to Tony, lowering his tone as he finally asked, "—does Emma know?"
Tony shook his head.
"I haven't said anything to her yet."
Hearing that, Nick's face fell.
"But you're working just down the street. It won't be long before someone…"
Truly, it wouldn't be long before someone critical saw Tony wiping down tables and it reached Emma's ears.
Tony understood what Nick meant. He just sighed and nodded.
"Yeah, I know. I'll tell her… within the week."
Nick's frown deepened.
…
[Rule #1: Only admins can send invitations to join Top Idol.]