The sidewalk beneath Amano Haruya's sneakers was cracked in places, thin white veins running through the concrete like the tired arteries of the city. It was 2:13 a.m., and he was walking home from another double-shift: a sushi box delivery followed by four hours hauling crates at the back of a discount supermarket. His legs ached. His stomach was a vacuum.
His apartment wasn't an apartment—it was a laundry storage unit that had been illegally retrofitted with a futon, a secondhand kettle, and a single bulb that flickered when the microwave was on. He paid ¥28,000 a month to sleep on that floor.
His phone buzzed faintly in his jacket pocket. He didn't check it. It buzzed again. Then again.
And then—his vision glitched.
For half a second, the world shimmered. The cold, orange glow of the streetlights fractured like cracked glass. Haruya blinked. A translucent blue box floated directly in front of his eyes:
[YENWALK SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Welcome, Host.
He froze mid-step. The interface followed his eyes—clean, crisp text, no branding, no AR device. Just there. Like something out of a sci-fi film.
Another line appeared:
[Step Count Today: 14,489]
[Current Conversion Rate: ¥1 per step]
[Total: ¥14,489 deposited to your primary account]
He stood still, breath clouding in the cold. A familiar chill hit the back of his spine—but not from the air.
"…What is this?" he muttered.
A new window popped up instantly.
[Query detected. Response generated.]
The Yenwalk System is a passive financial mechanism exclusive to the current host.
For every physical step taken, the host receives yen at the current conversion rate.
Daily login bonuses, occasional tasks, and milestone upgrades are included.
There are no costs. No side effects. No penalty for inactivity.
This system is not transferable. It is not shared. Only you can access it.
He almost laughed. He didn't.
Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened his banking app. He hadn't checked his balance in two days. The loading circle spun longer than it should have.
¥14,492.
His jaw tightened.
He was at ¥3 yesterday. Three yen. He hadn't been paid yet. He hadn't borrowed. He hadn't transferred from PayPay or dMart.
This was real.
[Daily Login Bonus Available]
[Claim Reward?]
"...What kind of scam rewards you before you even know the rules?" he whispered.
The system answered again:
This is not a game. This is your system. It functions whether you believe or not.
You may claim your daily reward now.
He swallowed hard and tapped the translucent [CLAIM] icon.
A light flickered. Then another message appeared.
[Reward Granted: Honda NSX Type S (2022) – Midnight Blue]
[Registered. Ownership Certificate Filed Under Host Name]
[Current Location: Shuto Expressway Lot C4]
Amano Haruya blinked.
A car.
A sports car.
He had never even touched a car worth more than ¥500,000, let alone one that cost more than most homes. And it was now legally his?
All rewards are lawfully processed. Insurance, registration, and legal custody are automatically handled.
You may use, store, or ignore. Rewards cannot be sold, only used by the host.
"Is this going to go away?" Haruya whispered.
No. The system is indefinite. Your steps will always be rewarded.
He didn't reply. He just walked. Slowly. Testing. Watching.
¥14,492 → ¥14,493 → ¥14,494
The counter ticked in real time.
He reached home fifteen minutes later with ¥14,628.
The door squeaked. The air inside was warmer, but it smelled like old cloth and soy sauce packets. He took off his shoes, sat cross-legged on the floor, and stared at the wall. His fingers trembled slightly.
He wasn't excited.
He was suspicious.
But he wasn't hallucinating. The car was real. The money was real. The system... was silent now. It only blinked faintly in the corner of his vision. Watching, but never speaking unless called upon.
He opened the banking app again.
The funds were marked: Source: Personal Fund – Urban Walkback Account. Origin Verified.
No loopholes. No red flags. Just money.
And that was the most terrifying part.
Two hours later, Haruya stood on Level C4 of the Shuto Expressway parking structure.
It was there.
A midnight blue NSX Type S, windows tinted, not a scratch on the body, polished like obsidian. A smart key hung from the rearview mirror, labeled with a blank tag and a simple logo:
YW
He got in. Sat behind the wheel. Didn't start it.
Then he asked, quietly, "Why me?"
The system answered only once.
Because you're the only one still walking with no path.
Let us see what you build.