[Common Sense Hijack System]
[Single Target Hijack] : Ready To Use
[Multiple Target Hijack] : Locked
[AOE Hijack] : Locked
[XXXXX] : Locked...
[XXXXX] : Locked...
[XXXXX] : Locked...
...
Caleb stared at the Common Sense Hijack System menu panel.
"How do I use this thing? Just… touch it?" he muttered, still half-confused.
A new panel popped up.
[Correct.]
"Okay then…"
He tapped [Single Target Hijack] with his finger.
[Ding!]
[Connecting to Hijack Hub...]
[10%... 30%... 60%... 80%... 100%]
[Connected.]
[Hijack Hub - Single Target Hijack Active]
[Type your hijack...]
"Man, this feels like some futuristic crap from a magic cat's pocket..." Caleb muttered.
A holographic keyboard appeared in midair—glowing, floating, straight out of a cheap sci-fi movie.
He didn't type anything yet.
Just stared at the emptying park.
Streetlights flicked on one by one.
Cold breeze. Silence.
And then—
[Warning: Quest Time Is Running. Please Complete The Objective.]
"…Alright."
He stood up, hands in his hoodie pockets, strolling casually through the park.
In the corner, near a busted bench and a crooked warning sign, a man in a leather jacket sat smoking alone.
"Smoking solo in a creepy park? Real edgy," Caleb snorted.
Then he typed:
[The cool way to relax is by picking up trash and sorting it into the correct bins.]
But he paused before hitting enter.
"Wait… this is single hijack. How do I pick the target?"
The panel responded:
[The target will be selected based on the Host's current attention and conscious intent.]
"Oh. So just… think about them?"
He focused his gaze—on purpose—at the guy.
Then—
[Ding!]
[1 Hijack Point has been consumed.]
The guy suddenly stood up. Snuffed out his cigarette.
Then… started picking up trash.
One piece at a time. Carefully.
He even sorted paper, plastic, and organic into the right bins.
Caleb blinked. Then smiled.
He'd just improved the world by about 0.000001%—more than all those crowds screaming about saving the earth while clogging traffic, making noise pollution, and vandalizing art just to feel cool.
And Caleb—after successfully making a guy act weird for a good cause—felt kinda impressed with his new system.
"This thing… is actually useful."
Still curious, he walked up to the guy.
"What'cha up to, bro?" he asked casually.
The guy smiled. "Just chillin'. Wanna join?"
"Nah, I'm good..." Caleb replied, ready to bounce.
But then the guy stared at him.
His expression twisted in confusion.
"Wait… your face looks familiar."
Caleb forced a laugh.
"Haha… yeah, I've got one of those faces."
He bailed fast, pulling his hoodie down lower. His face soured.
"Fuck…" he cursed under his breath.
Even when he finally found a tiny spark of joy today—
That damn "Buttmaniac" title still found a way to screw him over.
Caleb walked along the park sidewalk, hoodie pulled down low over his face.
The cold wind kept blowing like even the world didn't wanna touch him.
"…Maybe I need a mask," he muttered.
His steps felt heavy—not from fatigue, but because his brain was a tangled mess.
Social pressure, a ridiculous system, and the damn Buttmaniac title… all mashed into one steaming bowl of existential porridge.
He took a deep breath.
"All this pressure… can't even think straight. I even forgot to cover my face earlier."
Expression flat, head slightly lowered, he headed toward the nearest convenience store.
The neon light outside flickered like it was embarrassed to still be open.
But the second he saw the door,
he instantly pictured the cashier's face.
That woman… sharp-featured, red lipstick always on point, chest too perky for someone pushing forty.
Her eyes? Not dead—just too tired to pretend she liked people.
And when she scanned you with that judging stare... it felt like you were stripped naked, graded, and failed.
"Having a stable job and decent pay should be a good thing, right? But she looks at me like I'm some kind of failed compost…"
He'd once bought moldy bread here.
Got short-changed.
Got disrespected—just with a look.
And weirdly enough, she never got fired.
"Maybe the owner's into some kinda punishment fetish… ah, whatever."
Caleb ducked his head low and crept in.
Doing his best impression of a shadow.
He spotted the mask rack in the corner.
"Perfect…"
He grabbed one.
Instinctively, he turned toward the register—
Then froze.
No wallet.
"Shit… I gave it to The Traveler earlier… don't tell me—"
[Ding!]
[Correct.]
Caleb whipped his head to the right, startled, worried someone else heard that notification.
"Shit…"
But no one reacted.
The cashier didn't flinch.
Some lady buying milk was completely oblivious.
The system popped up again.
[Only the Host can see and hear the System. Please calm down, Host.]
Caleb shook his head, half-laughing.
"This… this is straight-up schizophrenia. I'm actually going crazy. But…"
He slowly pulled the mask against his chest.
"Who cares?"
He started walking—slow, careful, trying to slip out—
But then remembered:
He was already labeled as Buttmaniac.
If he got caught stealing, it'd be game over.
Then a thought hit him.
"Little hijack seems fun," he smirked to himself.
"Wait… where's the reward?" he asked the system under his breath.
[Hijack duration not yet complete. Quest status: Incomplete.]
'Then i just need to wait for minutes.. no problem.' He thought.
The mask still in hand, Caleb retreated to the snack aisle—hiding behind a row of overpriced seaweed and sad banana chips.
He checked the clock on the wall.
Still seven minutes left.
Great. I can't even leave yet without risking another "Hey, aren't you that guy who—" moment.
He leaned against the cool fridge door, stealing glances at the cashier from afar.
She stood there, arms crossed, chewing invisible gum, eyes half-lidded like she was bored of Earth itself.
And worse…
She looked hot.
"Shit," Caleb muttered under his breath, eyes quickly darting away.
"She's actually kinda sexy."
Sharp eyeliner. Tight polo shirt. Hair in a bun that somehow made her look like a dominatrix trapped in retail.
"I'm officially a freak," Caleb thought, exhaling slowly.
"First I hijack a random dude into being eco-friendly, now I'm eyeing a scary MILF at a convenience store like she's porn search material."
He needed to reset.
Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone—screen cracked, battery full at 100%, luckily he got useful modern human instinct to charge the phone before falling asleep yesterday.
"…Wow. I still brought this?" he mumbled.
For a moment, he just stared at it—thumb hovering over the screen.
Even under all this pressure… I didn't forget to bring my phone.
A little laugh escaped his lips.
"Modern human instincts, huh…" he whispered.
He unlocked it out of habit.
No notifications.
No missed calls.
Just a dead-ass homescreen and a wallpaper of his old cat—back when life still had warmth.
Out of boredom—or maybe just the need to feel something—he tapped open Dudugram.
The loading icon spun once… twice…
Feed muncul.
And then—
His eyes widened.
His jaw clenched.