The rain cascaded down in thick sheets, slicking the streets of the neon-lit city, the sound of droplets tapping against windows and pavement blending with the distant rumble of thunder. 

The clouds were a heavy, swollen mass, crackling with sparks of electricity that streaked across the sky like veins of light.

Yet, despite the ominous weather, the city was far from dark.

The neon glow that clung to every building, every sign, and every street corner illuminated the wet roads, giving them an otherworldly shimmer. 

Pinks, blues, and purples flickered, casting vivid reflections that danced in the puddles. 

The storm, fierce as it was, seemed a mere backdrop to the pulse of the city.

The streets below were alive with movement, the gleaming cars slipping through the rain-soaked roads like sleek machines in a futuristic dream.

 Each brake light flared a deep crimson, casting a ghostly glow through the rain, reflecting off the glossy pavement like droplets of blood in motion. 

The city's pulse was unrelenting, but the scene shifted—rising upward, zooming in toward a single apartment window that overlooked the bustling street below.

As the perspective pushed through the glass, the soft hum of the rain outside seemed to fade, replaced by the quiet warmth of the room within.

 It was a small apartment, cozy but cluttered with the telltale signs of youth. The boy lay on a low bed, deep in sleep, his breathing steady, undisturbed by the storm. His room told a story all its own.

The shelves on the wall were filled to the brim with action figures, comic books, and old gaming consoles—dust collecting in the crevices of controllers that were abandoned long ago.

A few trophies, some tarnished with age, stood among the collection, likely remnants from school sports or competitions. He was quite an active boy when he was in high school.

 Shoes were scattered across the floor in a chaotic array, sneakers mostly, some with their laces undone, others tossed carelessly under the bed. 

Near the bed, a simple wooden table stood, the surface cluttered with a mix of schoolbooks, half-done homework, and stray pens. 

A crumpled energy drink can be sat beside an open notebook, hastily scribbled notes visible under the dim light. A set of wireless headphones hung carelessly over the corner of the table, their blinking lights signaling they needed a charge.

Dominating one corner of the room was a sleek gaming PC, its tower bathed in the soft glow of RGB lights that cycled through a spectrum of neon hues, matching the city outside. 

The curved monitor displayed the boy's desktop—a wallpaper of some fantasy world, dragons soaring through pixelated skies. The keyboard, mechanical and backlit, had keys worn smooth.

 A gaming mouse, wired and battle-scarred, rested beside it. A pair of bulky gaming headphones lay neatly on a hook above the desk, their pristine condition suggesting they were a prized possession.

The closet, slightly ajar, revealed a row of hanging clothes—mostly hoodies, graphic tees, and jackets, all in muted tones of black and grey.

 A few pairs of jeans were folded haphazardly on the shelf above, while the lower section was packed with more shoes, stacked unevenly atop each other, some still in their boxes. 

The window, which had let the perspective enter, was tall and wide, framed by thin curtains that hung loosely on either side. 

The glass was streaked with rain, blurring the view of the neon-lit city outside. 

The distant glow of billboards and streetlights filtered into the room, casting faint, multicolored patterns across the walls, a dazzling interplay of light and shadow that moved in time with the flickering lights beyond.

The boy slept on, peaceful amidst the chaos of his room and the storm outside, wrapped in the quiet hum of electronics and the distant rhythm of the city. 

The moment's tranquility was almost mesmerizing—just a boy, resting deeply, the rhythm of his breathing in sync with the patter of rain outside.

 It was the kind of peace that came after long, exhausting days at the University, the rush of commuting, and the relentless grind of assignments. His body was draped in thick, soft sheets, enveloped in sleep comfort. 

The hum of electronics, the distant pulse of the city's neon lights, and the steady rain all contributed to a world that felt momentarily frozen in its serenity.

Then, without warning, a voice—not from the room, not from outside, but from somewhere else entirely—shattered the stillness.

"[Commencing awakening protocol, please host, wake up.]"

The voice was mechanical, yet oddly soothing, with a strange authority behind it. 

The boy's eyes snapped open in a heartbeat, wide with confusion.

 He lay there, disoriented, his body still caught in the transition from sleep to wakefulness. 

His mind struggled to process what had just happened.

Or whatever he had just heard. Like a muffled voice that had called out from the other side of the mirror, he was oblivious and also half-aware of the words.

"Huh?" he muttered, his voice low and groggy, still half-lost in the remnants of his dream. 

He blinked a few times, trying to orient himself.

 His body shifted beneath the weight of the sheets, his shoes—still on for some reason—dragging against the fabric.

 He rolled over to his back, the creaking of the old wooden bed frame cutting through the quiet room. 

The sound was sharp, as though even the furniture was reacting to the abrupt disturbance.

He slowly pushed himself up, still tangled in his sheets, his mind racing between half-conscious thoughts.

 What had he just heard? 

It made no sense—none of it did.

Am I still dreaming about Mr. David's huge nose?

Hell, why am I even dreaming about that?

Is this dream still related somehow?

The rain outside continued to fall, tapping lightly against the window, but inside the room, something had shifted. 

With a final creak from the bed, he sat upright, scanning the room cautiously.

 Everything looked the same, his cluttered shelves, the glowing lights from his gaming PC, the rain-slicked window casting neon shadows on the walls. 

The voice hadn't returned yet, but he felt strange.

"I was sure that I heard something... is it the same thing again?" he muttered, his voice barely louder than the soft patter of rain against the window.

 His breath, now visible in the dim room, turned into a thin, frosty vapor, hanging in the air like a whisper of winter creeping in. 

The temperature had shifted subtly, unnoticed until now, and his eyes flicked nervously across the room—first to the shelves filled with toys and books, then to the glowing window streaked with rain, and finally to the open door of his room. 

The old door carpet cradled below, with some gashes left on the old yellow plank beneath. 

It wasn't unusual for the door to be open. He often left it that way without thinking, like most boys his age. 

The grogginess from his sudden awakening clung to him, pulling at the edges of his consciousness, and he was still too disoriented to fully grasp what was happening. 

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, a half-hearted attempt to shake off the sleep as he muttered, "Probably just some random noise."

The chill in the air and the strange voice faded into the background of his thoughts as he shrugged off his unease. 

He tugged at the thick sheets, pulling them back over himself as he shifted, preparing to sink back into the warm comfort of his bed.

 His body leaned sideways, elbow supporting him as he began to lay down, this time on his left side. 

His focus was dull, his thoughts fuzzy as he let himself descend back into the embrace of the soft mattress.

But just as his eyes grazed the open door, something stopped him.

"[Unsuitable behavior detected, quest unlocked.]"

The voice returned, clearer this time, cutting through the fog of his mind.

 His muscles tensed as he froze halfway to lying down, a groan of frustration escaping his lips.

 "Huh?" he groaned, his breath heavy, the grogginess mixing with a growing sense of confusion. 

His silver hair, wild and unkept, fell into his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was happening. 

This time, though, something caught his eye. 

It wasn't the door he had been looking at seconds ago—no, it was something else entirely.

It hovered there, glowing softly against the dimly lit room—a strange, floating blue screen that seemed completely out of place in this world. 

"What the hell..." he gasped, the words slipping out without thought. 

His body tensed instinctively, but despite the shock, he found himself still nestled in the warm cocoon of his sheets.

 The warmth mattered more, surprisingly so.

 It was as if the weight of the moment, of the bizarre apparition, hadn't fully sunk in—or perhaps he was simply too tired to react with the appropriate panic.

It was strange, almost unnatural, how calm he felt in the face of something so wildly out of the ordinary.

 Anyone else would have jumped out of bed, freaked out, or at least gotten to their feet in alarm. 

But not him. 

No, his body remained stubbornly wrapped in the comfort of the bed, his breath still slow and steady despite the chaos unraveling before him. 

There was no rush to flee, no urgency to understand what was happening.

Instead, a dry chuckle slipped from his lips, the kind that comes when you're too tired to be properly afraid.

 "Do I have to do this?" he muttered, his voice laced with resignation.

 A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stared at the floating panel, the light from the screen casting a soft blue glow across his face. 

[Yes host, it's time to become a goddess] The system replied cheerfully.

"Life sucks... "

[I will make it brighter] :)