Julian sighed as he sneaked upstairs, keeping his footsteps light against the creaky wooden staircase.
The apartment complex was dimly lit, the flickering bulb in the hallway casting shadows that danced like ghosts.
His room was on the top floor — room 306, the last door at the end of the corridor.
It wasn't much, but it was home.
A single room with peeling wallpaper, a rusty sink, and a bed that groaned louder than his stomach when he shifted his weight on it.
Rent was cheap.
Too cheap.
Which was exactly why he lived there.
Between college tuition, textbooks, and food, he had to cut down on a lot of things — quality meals, new clothes, even the luxury of a proper phone.
Every penny counted.
'Maybe I should join that crypto group in our class,' Julian thought as he climbed the stairs. 'A couple guys made decent money off it. If I invest, I could probably cash out some good profit. But with my luck, I'd lose my rent money in a day…'
His lips pressed into a line.
Rent.
He hated that word.
"I just need to be quiet," he whispered, carefully setting one sneaker down after another.
His landlady, Daria Volkov, lived in the building too.
A Russian woman in her thirties, blonde hair, tall, with eyes that could cut straight through you.
And more importantly, she owned the entire complex.
Julian had been dodging her for weeks.
But fate wasn't on his side tonight.
Halfway up the second flight of stairs, he turned a corner and froze.
A tall woman with golden hair stood there, arms crossed.
His heart sank instantly.
Daria Volkov.
"Oh no…" he muttered under his breath.
"Good evening, Miss Daria!" he said quickly, forcing a smile, pretending like he hadn't just been sneaking around like a criminal. "The evening weather is nice, isn't it?"
He glanced around as if admiring the view, though from the dimly lit staircase, there was nothing to see except cracked paint on the walls and dusty windows.
Daria tilted her head, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
Her voice carried that heavy, unmistakable Russian accent.
"Da, da… veather is nice," she said slowly, then her gaze sharpened. "But you are owing me rent, Julian."
She said it loud.
Far louder than necessary.
Loud enough for the tenants on the second floor to hear, and sure enough, a door creaked open somewhere down the hall.
A neighbor peeked out curiously.
Julian felt heat crawl up his neck. Of course she had to say it like that. Daria didn't just collect money — she collected his dignity too.
"For two month, you no pay me rent. Two month!" she barked, raising her voice even more. "I am patient voman, da, but if you push me more, I vill take you to court. I crush you like bug."
Julian winced.
This was exactly why he couldn't get a girlfriend here. Every time some girl passed by his floor, they overheard Daria tearing into him about his debts.
It was social suicide.
And Daria knew it well.
"There's no need for that!" he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll… I'll give you the money by the end of the week. Yes, the end of the week!"
Daria's red lips curved into a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"Good," she said, her accent thick and cold. "By end of veek, Julian. If not… I take legal action. Real action. No joke."
With that, she pivoted on her heel and walked downstairs, heels clicking like hammers of judgment.
Julian didn't even bother grumbling.
He just moved like a ghost the rest of the way up, shoulders slumped, until he reached his tiny apartment.
He unlocked the door and shut it behind him with a bang, leaning against it with a sigh.
"Fuck… I hate my life," he muttered, dropping his bag to the floor.
He looked around the cramped space.
A bed with mismatched sheets, a chipped desk stacked with old textbooks, a sink with a stubborn drip that had been leaking since he moved in.
Pathetic.
That was the only word for it.
"Maybe I should just drop out," he said aloud, tossing his helmet onto the bed. "Who knows, I could become the next Elon Musk, right? Rich overnight? Yeah, sure."
And then —
[Ding!]
Julian blinked. He froze. "What's that dinging sound?"
He grabbed his phone off the desk. His battered Ephone 6.
The thing had been manufactured in 2000 and it was now 2025.
Half the screen was cracked, the battery barely lasted an hour, and yet it was still somehow holding together by sheer willpower.
No notification.
Julian frowned. "Weird…"
He walked to the sink, twisted the faucet, and washed his face.
The water was cold, sharp against his skin.
Staring into the cracked mirror above, he studied the reflection that stared back.
He was thin and had an average face.
Not ugly, but not good-looking enough to get noticed.
He had tired eyes and messy black hair.
A man whose best feature was that no one remembered him after a second glance.
"And broke," he muttered to himself.
'Even my pizza delivery money won't cover my tuition for much longer,' he thought bitterly.
The idea of dropping out was starting to feel more enticing by the second.
[Ding!]
Julian snapped his head around. "I swear, what's making that sound?!"
A sudden bang rattled his wall.
Right, the walls were paper-thin.
"Calm the fuck down, man!" his neighbor shouted from the other side.
"I hear, I hear," Julian called back with a sigh. He dropped onto the bed, letting the springs creak beneath him.
His room was silent except for the dripping faucet.
"I still wonder what's making that sound…" he muttered, rubbing his temples.
And then —
[Ding! Infinite Cash System has been activated]
[Complete System tasks to earn money]
Julian's breath caught in his throat.
His eyes widened.
"WHAT?!"