When Coker opened his eyes, it wasn't the street anymore.
White ceiling. Harsh fluorescent lights. The steady beeping of a monitor.
He was… alive.
He blinked, trying to sit up, but his ribs screamed in pain. His vision swam—except it wasn't just the hospital room he saw. Floating faintly before his eyes was a glowing panel, words burning in golden light.
> **\[Quest: Stand on the pitch once more.]**
> **\[Reward: Survival + New Beginning.]**
Coker froze. His dry lips parted. "…What… the hell?"
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. The words didn't vanish.
"Hallucination?" he muttered. His voice was hoarse.
The door opened. A nurse entered, carrying a clipboard. Coker's heart leapt.
"Hey! Do you—do you see this?" He pointed desperately at the glowing screen hovering in front of him.
The nurse blinked, puzzled. "…See what?"
"The words! Right here!" His voice cracked as he jabbed at the air.
The nurse frowned gently. "You should rest. Head injuries sometimes cause… confusion." She scribbled on her clipboard, gave him a reassuring smile, and left.
Coker slumped back against the pillows, sweat on his forehead. *So it's real—but only I can see it.*
The screen pulsed again, as if responding to his thoughts.
> **\[System initialized.]**
> **\[Football Prodigy System activated.]**
His hands trembled. Fear, wonder, disbelief—all tangled inside him.
"…Why me?"
The beeping of the monitor matched his heartbeat as he stared at the words that no one else could see.
For the first time since he was cast aside, something inside him flickered. Not hope. Not yet. But… a chance.
---
The glowing words lingered even after he turned his head away. They clung to his vision like an afterimage, pulsing faintly, refusing to let him ignore them.
Coker lifted a trembling hand, reaching toward the panel. His fingers passed right through it—no warmth, no resistance. Just empty air.
"…Am I losing my mind?" he whispered.
The steady beeping of the monitor offered no answer.
The door creaked open again, and this time, it wasn't the nurse. His mother stepped in, her eyes red from crying, his father following close behind with that stiff expression he always wore when trying to hide worry.
"Coker!" His mother rushed to his side, clutching his arm. "You scared us half to death. Do you know how lucky you are to be alive?"
Coker tried to smile, but his lips barely moved. "I… guess."
His father exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You should've been more careful. Walking home half-distracted like that… if the driver hadn't swerved at the last second—" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together.
Coker lowered his eyes, guilt mixing with confusion. *How can I even explain what I'm seeing?*
Because the screen was still there. Hovering. Watching.
And then, like it had been waiting for this quiet moment—
> **\[Daily Task Generated.]**
> **\[Task: Sit up from bed and touch your knees 10 times.]**
> **\[Time Limit: 10 minutes.]**
> **\[Failure = Basic Punishment.]**
Coker's throat tightened. The letters glowed sharper, almost impatient.
He muttered under his breath, "What the hell is this now…"
"Hmm?" his mother glanced at him.
"Nothing." He forced a smile. "Just… nothing."
But inside, panic spread like fire. His ribs were sore, his body heavy. Sit up ten times? In ten minutes? Was this a cruel joke?
The timer appeared in the corner of the screen.
**09:59… 09:58…**
Coker squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would vanish.
Instead, pain exploded across his chest—like invisible claws squeezing his broken ribs. He gasped sharply, his back arching against the bed.
"Coker?!" His mother's voice was sharp with fear. "What's wrong?!"
He gritted his teeth, clutching the sheets. "I—I'm fine!" he lied.
The screen flickered:
> **\[Warning: Failure triggers punishment.]**
> **\[Time Remaining: 08:13]**
Sweat rolled down his forehead. He had no choice.
With shaking arms, he forced himself upright, biting back the groan that threatened to escape. Every movement burned, but compared to that stabbing, crushing pain, this was bearable.
One. Two. Three…
His parents tried to stop him, horrified. "Coker! You'll reopen your wounds!"
"Don't—" he snapped, gasping, "don't stop me."
Four. Five. Six… His arms trembled, his ribs throbbed, but the glow on the screen softened each time he sat up.
Nine. Ten.
He collapsed back into the pillow, panting hard. The countdown froze at 00:03.
Then the pain vanished. Like it had never existed.
The screen pulsed again:
> **\[Task Complete.]**
> **\[Reward: Pain Relief + Basic Recovery Boost.]**
Warmth flooded his chest, soothing his aches. His breathing steadied, and for the first time since the accident, he felt… lighter.
Coker stared at the glowing panel, his expression caught between terror and awe.
"…This thing…" he whispered, voice trembling. "It's real."
His parents exchanged worried looks, clearly unable to understand.
But Coker understood enough.
This wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't a dream.
It was a system.
And it wasn't giving him a choice.