Allen woke up to the steady vibration of his phone on the nightstand, blinking blearily at the harsh glow of the screen. The sun had barely risen, casting a dim light through the blinds, enough to make the clutter in his tiny apartment look even more haphazard than usual. His phone buzzed again, this time more insistently, and he groaned, fumbling for it.
It was a text from Benji, his childhood friend.
"Dude, you're viral!"
Allen squinted at the message, still not fully awake. Viral? It took a few seconds for the fog in his brain to clear enough for him to make the connection. Last night. The busking, the crowd, the pink-haired girl recording him. Could that video have actually blown up?
Curiosity getting the better of him, Allen unlocked his phone and scrolled through his notifications. His social media was exploding. Every few seconds, more notifications popped up—likes, shares, comments. All of them pointing back to a video of his street performance.
He sat up, fully awake now, his pulse quickening. Viral? His mind was racing. This had to be some kind of mistake, right? He couldn't be viral. Not him. Not Allen Rice, the guy barely scraping by in a rundown Hollywood apartment, eating instant noodles, and busking for rent money.
Another text from Benji buzzed in: "A hundred thousand views! Dude, people are LOVING it!"
A hundred thousand views? Allen's heart thudded in his chest. He didn't know how to react. His fingers flew across the screen as he scrolled through the comments.
"This guy's got something special!"
"Where's his album? I'd buy it!"
"New favorite street musician!"
"Sign him already!"
He stared at the phone, unable to believe what he was seeing. For so long, he'd been nobody, just some guy strumming his guitar in the background while people rushed past, busy with their lives. Now, strangers were praising him, cheering him on. Was this real? Could this actually be happening?
The phone buzzed again. Benji wasn't about to let him bask quietly in this.
"What's the plan now, Rockstar?"
Rockstar. Allen shook his head, half-laughing. Benji had always had that sharp sense of humor, calling him "Rockstar" when they were kids, even though Allen could barely play three chords back then. Now the joke felt strangely… real. But Benji was right. What was the plan?
Allen looked around his cramped apartment. The guitar leaned against the wall, and his notebooks—filled with half-finished songs—were strewn across the floor and bed. Empty ramen cups littered the small kitchen counter, a reminder that he was far from living the rockstar life.
He wasn't exactly prepared for overnight success. His heart pounded as he thought about it. Could he actually make something of this? Was this his shot?
Allen tossed his phone aside and opened the system interface in his mind. The glowing text and numbers hovered before him.
Showbiz Points: 1450
His eyes scanned his stats. The system had been subtle so far, slowly helping him improve since Phanes had given him this second chance at life. Now, with points to spend, he felt a sense of urgency. He needed to build on this momentum. Going viral was one thing, but if he let it fizzle out, all this attention would be for nothing.
His Guitar skill was sitting at 4/10. He'd come far with it, but if he really wanted to stand out, he needed to push it further. The cost, however, was steep. Upgrading from 4 to 5 would cost him 2,500 Showbiz Points, far more than what he currently had. No dice there.
He turned his attention to his Vocal Talent. It was at 3/10, and if there was one thing Allen knew, it was that a great voice could make or break a musician's career. People loved an amazing voice. He grinned, deciding that this was where he'd invest his points.
"Upgrade Vocal Talent from 3 to 4."
Immediately, 1,000 of his Showbiz Points were deducted, leaving him with 450 points. As soon as the upgrade was confirmed, he felt it—a strange warmth in his throat, like his vocal cords had been loosened and strengthened. His range expanded, and his voice felt smoother, more controlled. It wasn't a massive change, but it was noticeable. He'd sound better, for sure.
He still had 450 points left, not enough to upgrade anything big, but maybe enough to make a small dent somewhere. His Charisma was still at 2/10. If he wanted to keep people's attention, charm would go a long way. He upgraded it from 2 to 3, spending 100 Showbiz Points.
"Upgrade complete."
Allen chuckled to himself. Phanes had given him this system for a reason, and now it felt like things were finally falling into place. He still had a long way to go, but this viral moment was a sign—a sign that maybe, just maybe, he could actually make it.
His phone buzzed again. Another text from Benji.
"Seriously, man. What are you going to do next?"
Allen stared at the screen for a moment before replying.
"Don't know yet, but I think I've got something."
That something was a feeling. A gut instinct that this was his moment, his window of opportunity. And he wasn't going to let it pass him by.
Just then, the system pinged, interrupting his thoughts. A new quest popped up in front of his eyes.
New Quest: Perform an original song in front of a live audience. Reward: 2,000 Showbiz Points, $500
Allen grinned. This was perfect. He'd been busking for rent money, sure, but this was a chance to do something bigger. An original song. He hadn't written anything serious in a while, but he could feel the creative gears starting to turn. With $500 on the line and more Showbiz Points to gain, this was a no-brainer.
He grabbed his guitar and strummed a few chords, letting his mind wander. The sound was more fluid, richer, thanks to the upgrade in his guitar skill. But now it was his voice he wanted to test out. He hummed a few notes, then sang a simple melody, and immediately noticed the difference. His voice was clearer, his pitch more precise. It was subtle, but it was there.
He grabbed one of the notebooks from the floor, flipping through pages of unfinished lyrics and half-baked ideas. This time, though, he wasn't just noodling around. He had a goal. He needed to create something that would resonate with people, something real, something from the heart.
As he scribbled down lyrics and toyed with melodies, the excitement built inside him. This was it. This was what he was supposed to be doing. And for the first time in a long time, he felt… ready.
Hours passed in a blur as he worked on the song, his mind completely focused. When he finally looked up from the notebook, the room was darker, with the sun fully risen now, casting a warm, golden light through the blinds. He stretched, his fingers sore from playing, but it was the good kind of sore—the kind that came from hard work and progress.
He glanced at the system interface again. 350 Showbiz Points left. Not much, but it was something. He'd earn more soon enough.
His phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn't Benji. A notification from his social media caught his eye.
Someone had shared the video of his performance last night, tagging him in a post. The caption read, "Keep an eye on this guy—he's going places." And the views were still climbing.
Allen felt a thrill run through him. He wasn't just some anonymous street musician anymore. People were paying attention. And now, it was time to give them something to really talk about.
Grabbing his guitar, he stood up, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He was ready for whatever came next. He had a plan. Sort of.
Time to write that original song.