The sterile hospital room was quiet, save for the occasional beeping of machines. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting pale, ghostly shadows on the walls. Zaky lay still in the stiff bed, staring at the faint glow of the notification hovering in his field of vision:
[Mission 1: Sell an Item and Earn Your First Profit]
He rubbed his eyes, hoping the strange message would disappear, but it remained, floating like a translucent hologram. His heartbeat quickened. Was he dreaming? No—this felt too real. The cold air, the faint smell of disinfectant, the dull ache in his side—everything was too vivid.
He reached out hesitantly, as if trying to touch the notification, but his hand passed through it. It flickered for a moment, then stabilized, waiting. Zaky swallowed hard, the weight of the situation sinking in.
The voice from before echoed in his mind:
"Do you want to be rich? Complete missions. Gain knowledge. Step by step, you will rise..."
He lay back on the pillow, closing his eyes to steady his racing thoughts. What had he just agreed to? A system that promised wealth—but at what cost? His thoughts raced, filled with half-formed worries and cautious hope.
The sound of distant footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling Zaky from his swirling thoughts. A nurse opened the door, the light from the corridor spilling in as she entered.
"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked kindly, checking the monitors by his bed.
"Hurts a little," Zaky muttered. He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his ribs, forcing him to lie back down.
"You took a nasty fall, but you'll be alright," the nurse reassured him. "Just rest, okay? The doctor will see you in the morning."
She gave him a small smile and adjusted his blanket before leaving. As the door clicked shut behind her, the room returned to silence. Zaky stared at the ceiling, the glow of the system's message lingering just at the edge of his vision.
Sell an item. Earn your first profit.
It seemed so simple. But what could he sell? He didn't own anything valuable—his clothes were secondhand, his phone was outdated, and his shoes were falling apart.
This has to be a mistake, he thought. How could someone like him, with nothing to his name, even begin to earn money?
Suddenly, the room grew colder, and the soft hum of the night seemed to fade away. The voice returned—calm, smooth, and unsettlingly familiar.
"Zaky…"
Zaky froze, his breath catching in his throat. It was the same voice he had heard in the void, that strange place between consciousness and sleep. He wasn't dreaming.
"Who… who are you?" Zaky whispered into the darkness.
The voice didn't answer directly. Instead, it spoke with the same steady cadence, each word measured and deliberate.
"I am your guide. I am here to help you rise. You asked for wealth, and I will show you the way."
Zaky sat up slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes scanned the room, but there was no one there. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the room like a quiet breeze.
"How?" Zaky asked, his voice trembling slightly. "How am I supposed to make money? I don't have anything to sell."
The voice chuckled softly. It wasn't cruel, but it carried a sense of knowing, as if it had heard these same doubts a thousand times before.
"Every journey begins with a single step," the voice murmured. "Your first task is not about what you sell—it is about understanding the value of exchange. Look around you, Zaky. Everything has value—even things you overlook."
Zaky frowned, confused. "But I don't—"
The voice interrupted gently. "Think, Zaky. What do you have that someone else might need? What small thing can you offer that someone will pay for?"
Zaky's mind raced. What could he possibly sell? He had no possessions, no money, no skills… or did he?
The voice seemed to sense his hesitation. "The system will guide you, step by step. Complete each mission, and you will gain knowledge—knowledge that will open doors you never knew existed."
"But why me?" Zaky asked suddenly, the question escaping his lips before he could stop it. "Why did you choose me?"
There was a brief silence, as if the voice were considering its answer.
"You are hungry," it finally replied. "Not just for food or comfort, but for something more. You have a dream—and that dream, Zaky, is enough to start."
Zaky leaned back against the pillows, his mind whirling. He had no idea where this mysterious system had come from or why it had chosen him. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that this was a chance—perhaps his only chance—to change his life.
He let out a slow breath, the flickering notification still hovering in his vision: [Mission 1: Sell an Item and Earn Your First Profit]
He thought back to the nurse who had just checked on him. What did people in the hospital need? Maybe he could offer something small—something useful.
Then it hit him.
Zaky remembered the small bag of candies he kept in his backpack. They were nothing special—cheap sweets he had bought from a corner shop—but they were something. The other kids at the orphanage loved them, and sometimes he shared a few to avoid trouble.
What if he sold them?
It sounded silly, even in his own mind. But the voice had said that everything had value. Maybe, just maybe, someone would buy them.
With a grunt of pain, Zaky slowly eased himself out of bed. His ribs protested, but he ignored them. This was important. He shuffled over to the small chair where his backpack rested and rummaged through it until he found the bag of candies.
He held them in his hand, the plastic crinkling softly. Could this really work?
The glow of the notification pulsed gently, as if encouraging him. [Mission 1: Sell an Item and Earn Your First Profit]
Zaky swallowed his doubt. It was a small step—a tiny, almost laughable attempt. But it was a start.
As he climbed back into bed, the bag of candies resting on the nightstand, he felt something strange stirring within him. Hope.
For the first time in a long while, he wasn't thinking about the bullies at school or the empty feeling of being alone. Instead, he was thinking about the future—and the possibilities that lay ahead.
The voice in the darkness had given him a gift, strange and mysterious as it was. And Zaky wasn't going to waste it.
He closed his eyes, the sound of the hospital fading into the background. Tomorrow, he would begin. Tomorrow, he would sell his first item—and take the first step toward a life he had only dared to dream of.