James stared at the floating, pink-tinted system window in front of him. The text shimmered softly, almost mockingly gentle despite its heavy demands.
"These missions... they're too specific," he muttered. "It even knows about my siblings' summer classes."
His eyes narrowed on one particular line.
[Talk to a random stranger]
"What kind of awkward nightmare is that…" he whispered, scratching his head. "And it doesn't even say what rewards I get. No stats? No XP bar?"
Still, James lowered his head slightly, voice gentler now.
"Even so... thank you, Gods. For your mercy. For this chance."
He stood up and glanced at his monitor: 8:00 a.m.
"First things first... trash and erotica. Otherwise, I'll die because I couldn't throw away magazines."
He dug a black garbage bag from his drawer and began cleaning.
The room slowly transformed—bottles tossed, wrappers gathered, crusty dishes bagged and tied. He even unplugged his computer for the first time in months.
Soon, for the first time in years, James saw his floor.
But then—
"System," he asked, "why is the 'Clean Your Room' mission still unchecked?"
The window flickered, and a new message appeared:
---
[Room Status: Incomplete]
• Dust on all shelves
• Bed sheets not changed (1 week)
• Curtains not washed (1 month)
• Unused boxes and paper clutter
• Old bottles and wrappers still under furniture
---
James groaned. "...Well damn. I'm sorry."
With sudden urgency, he swept into motion—dusting every surface, tossing useless papers, folding clothes, replacing bedsheets, even yanking the curtains down for washing.
An hour passed in silent labor. His shirt clung to him with sweat. His fingers ached.
And then—
DING
A clear, melodic chime rang out. A green checkmark lit up beside [Clean Your Room].
He looked around, panting.
"I've never seen this place this clean before," he whispered.
For once, the space didn't suffocate him.
He wiped his forehead, grabbed a second bag, and began collecting all the adult magazines he'd hidden under the bed, behind the shelves, even tucked inside textbooks.
Another soft chime.
DING
The task vanished from the list. James smiled faintly and tapped his glabella, tucking the system window away for now.
He checked the time—9:00 a.m.
"Mom's probably preparing lunch... perfect time to help."
He grabbed both trash bags, headed downstairs, and tossed them into the bin outside. Then, without pause, he stepped into the kitchen.
His mother stood near the stove, gathering ingredients.
"Mom, what can I do to help?" James asked as he washed his hands at the sink.
She turned, surprised. "Oh... James? You don't have to—but if you insist, can you chop these vegetables while I work on the meat?"
"Sure," he replied quickly.
As he cut carrots and peeled onions, the room was filled only with the rhythm of their hands and the occasional sizzle of oil.
Then, softly, she spoke.
"…It's unlike you to help like this," she said with a small laugh. "But I'm not complaining."
She turned to him, smiling warmly.
"Thank you, James."
His hand froze for just a moment.
The words shouldn't have hit so hard. But they did.
He hadn't heard her say his name with that kind of warmth in a long time. Maybe never.
His throat tightened.
"…Anything for you, Mom."
DING
Another task complete.
As if on cue, she turned off the stove and wiped her hands.
"Lunch is ready. Can you set the table? I'll go get your siblings."
James perked up.
"No need, Mom. I'll go."
She blinked, then smiled. "If you insist. They're in the first building, second floor. Room's probably marked."
He nodded, grabbed an umbrella, and stepped outside into the harsh summer sun.
The walk took five minutes, but every step was filled with memory.
"Haven't been back here in years…"
The school gates loomed ahead—familiar, yet distant. This was where it all started… where he had friends, dreams… before a classmate had passed him a phone and changed everything.
' Don't think about that. Not now.'
He shook his head and climbed the stairs of the first building.
"Second floor… but I didn't ask for the room number."
Classroom doors stretched down the hallway. A dozen possibilities.
"This is going to take a while—"
Then he saw her.
Long black hair, a pink ribbon tied neatly across her head. About 155 centimeters tall. A soft blue sundress embroidered with small white flowers.
She stood out like a rose in a field of concrete.
He stared, breath caught.
Then he saw the word "STAFF" printed on her ID.
"Uhm—excuse me," he managed, walking up to her. "May I… ask something?"
She turned with a kind smile. "Yes, sir?"
'Her smile… it's beautiful…'
James struggled not to lock eyes for too long. His mouth felt dry.
"Do you know… where the students with the surname Draevin are? They're my siblings. I came without asking their room…"
He scratched his head and added, "I'm James. James Draevin."
She tilted her head playfully.
"Fufu… Hello, James. I'm Summer Heartfelia, one of the staff here. Let's go ask their teacher together, shall we?"
She extended her hand to shake.
James blinked. The world slowed.
' Summer… Summer Heartfelia…'
He took her hand, heart thudding in his chest.
'Her hand… it's soft.'
And then—
DING
Another task complete.