Morning sunlight filtered through the battered blinds of Ryan Carter's small, cluttered apartment, casting long, golden streaks across the worn-out furniture. With a sharp inhale, Ryan jolted awake, his head still throbbing. Memories from last night came rushing back—the mugger, the struggle, the blood, and the inexplicable glow of the copper plate.
His eyes fell on the plate now resting on the table. It looked the same as ever—tarnished, covered in a faint green patina, and utterly ordinary. Ryan stared at it warily, half expecting it to do something strange again.
Then, out of nowhere, that cold, emotionless voice spoke once more inside his head:
"System initialization complete. Welcome to the Appraisal System."
Ryan froze, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze darted around the room. "What… Who's there?" His voice sounded hoarse in the silence.
But no one was there. The apartment was still empty, quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside. Then, right in front of him, a translucent screen appeared—floating in the air like something ripped straight from a sci-fi movie.
At the top of the glowing interface were the words:
"Appraisal System (Basic Version)."
Beneath that, several bullet points appeared in sharp, clear text:
"System Functions:
Appraisal Function: Analyze the authenticity, historical origin, and current market value of objects.
Information Storage: All appraised items will be automatically recorded for future reference.
Task Function: Completing system-assigned tasks will unlock advanced features and upgrades."
Ryan stared, frozen with disbelief. Slowly, he rubbed his eyes with both hands, muttering, "No way. This is… this can't be real."
"This system is real and currently bound to you," the voice interrupted calmly, as though reading his thoughts.
Ryan scoffed, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. "Real? I must've hit my head harder than I thought. This is some kind of hallucination. Maybe I've lost my mind."
But the voice continued unfazed:
"Mental evaluation complete. Host's cognitive function is normal. No signs of hallucination or impairment detected. This system exists to assist you—providing wealth, knowledge, and a path to success through object appraisal. It is advised that you familiarize yourself with the system promptly."
Ryan froze again. His pulse quickened, and his hands clenched into fists. The calm certainty in that voice was unsettling. For a moment, his emotions tangled—part of him wanted to believe he'd finally cracked under the pressure of his mundane, miserable life. But another part of him, the stubborn, desperate part, whispered: What if it's real?
Ryan swallowed hard and glanced back at the floating screen. "All right," he muttered under his breath. "Let's test you out."
Ryan sat up straighter, his focus shifting to the copper plate on the table. With his skepticism still lingering, he stared at the tarnished surface and waited. The screen flickered, and new information popped up:
"Item: 19th Century European Noble Banquet Plate
Material: Pure Copper, Handcrafted
Historical Background: Mid-19th century, used at aristocratic feasts
Condition: Good
Market Value: $500."
Ryan's jaw dropped. "Five hundred dollars?!" he blurted out, the disbelief loud in his voice.
He leaned closer, inspecting the plate again as though expecting it to transform into something otherworldly. But no—it remained an old, dull copper plate. Ryan's fingers brushed against its edge, and he murmured, "This can't be right…"
But deep down, something in him was starting to shift.
"Okay, fine. Let's see how 'real' you are," Ryan muttered. He scanned the room and spotted a cheap hairdryer on his desk—one he'd bought a few weeks ago from the discount aisle of a local store. "If you're so accurate, then tell me about this."
He picked up the hairdryer, focused his gaze on it, and sure enough, the system reacted instantly:
"Item: Household Hairdryer
Material: Plastic and Metal
Purchase Date: Less than 1 year ago
Market Value: $25."
Ryan froze, staring at the screen with wide eyes. "Twenty-five bucks…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "That's… pretty much what I paid for it."
His mind whirled as he clutched the hairdryer like it held the answers to life's mysteries. "No way… This thing actually works," he muttered, his voice shaking with disbelief.
The system's calm voice chimed in again:
"All appraisals are based on precise analysis of material, craftsmanship, and market data. Accuracy is guaranteed."
Ryan sat back, the hairdryer slipping from his grip onto the bed beside him. "This is insane," he said, his voice wavering between awe and sheer disbelief. "But… it's real."
Once the shock started to wear off, Ryan's excitement took over. He stood up and began tearing through his tiny apartment like a man possessed, pulling out everything he could find.
There was the rusted pocket watch he'd picked up last month, a plaster figurine missing half an arm, and an old military badge. He appraised them one by one, his anticipation dwindling with each result:
"Five dollars… Three dollars… Ten dollars…"
Ryan dropped onto his heels, letting out a groan. "Useless junk," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Everything I own is worthless."
But then, tucked away in the corner of a shelf, he noticed a small wooden box covered in dust. He'd almost forgotten about it. It was one of those impulse buys from the flea market—he'd paid $15 because the seller swore it was "genuine antique craftsmanship."
With renewed hope, Ryan grabbed the box and focused on it. The screen blinked to life:
"Item: 19th Century Hand-Carved Storage Box
Material: Teak Wood
Historical Background: European noble personal storage item, handcrafted
Market Value: $200."
Ryan froze, then let out an incredulous laugh. "Two hundred bucks? Seriously?" He turned the box over in his hands, finally appreciating the delicate carvings etched into its surface.
"Maybe I'm not such a terrible treasure hunter after all," he muttered, a flicker of pride lighting up his face.
Just as Ryan was beginning to revel in his small victory, the screen flickered again, and a new message appeared:
"Task Issued: Identify and sell an item with a market value exceeding $3,000. Task completion will unlock advanced system functions."
Ryan's smile froze. "Three… thousand dollars?" he repeated, his voice trailing off.
A heavy silence settled over the room. He spent the next half hour scouring every inch of his apartment. Old books his parents had sent him, second-hand trinkets from the flea market, tools he hadn't used in years—he appraised everything he could find.
But nothing came close.
Finally, Ryan sank onto his bed, letting out a frustrated sigh. "What a joke," he muttered. "What am I supposed to do? I've got nothing—absolutely nothing worth that kind of money."
His eyes drifted back to the copper plate sitting on the table. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped it in an old cloth and placed it in the cabinet. It might be valuable, but it wasn't enough.
"If there's nothing here," Ryan said quietly, standing up and grabbing his jacket, "then I'll just have to find it somewhere else."
He took a deep breath and stepped out into the cold morning air, heading toward the one place he might have a shot: the flea market.
The wind whipped through the streets, biting at his skin, but Ryan barely noticed. His mind buzzed with possibilities, doubts, and an ember of hope. For the first time in a long while, he felt like his life wasn't entirely out of his hands.
And he wasn't about to waste that chance.