"Well, now what?" the young man muttered softly, shutting off his phone after reaching the end of the novel he had been absorbed in. A sigh slipped from his lips. Finding a story that truly clicked with his tastes was rare—a perfect novel that seemed to strike every note just right. Yet when that kind of story finally ended, it left a hollow ache, the kind that came with knowing there was nothing else left to read that could fill the same space.
Life outside those fleeting escapes didn't help much either. In a world where each day began the same—waking up only to drag yourself to a job you didn't care for, collecting a paycheck just big enough to cover the bills, then coming home to a life that felt like the world itself was waiting to kick you down—well, it was rough.
This young man was one of those people—a man who had long since lost faith in humanity. He had grown up spoiled, coddled at every turn, treated as though the world revolved around his whims. Yet when those habits finally took root and showed themselves in full, his parents turned on him, abandoning him as though they weren't the very ones who had cultivated his flaws. It was a bitter irony, but one he refused to let consume him. He didn't pretend innocence, nor did he place all the weight of blame on their shoulders. In his own way, he accepted responsibility. He had known what he was doing, after all. There had always been that persistent voice, tucked away in the back of his mind, whispering reminders that his actions were wrong, that comfort and selfishness came at a cost.
Over time, he experienced his own form of character development. It didn't come suddenly, nor did it arrive in a dramatic revelation—it was gradual, built step by step. Therapy became one of his anchors, a place where he confronted truths he would have rather ignored. It forced him to strip away excuses and face the patterns that governed his life. Writing also became a lifeline. He took to Webnovel, pouring his thoughts into words, translating the mess inside his head into stories. Some were rough, others raw, but they were his, and each chapter felt like progress. It wasn't about readers or approval; it was about turning confusion into something structured, something he could look back on and recognize.
For a while, he even had friends, though most of them revealed their true colors once his parents disowned him. Promises of loyalty quickly dissolved into silence, and people he thought he could lean on drifted away without a second thought. Later, when he tried building new friendships, he found himself quickly exhausted by the drama that seemed to shadow every group. Petty arguments disguised as concern, gossip masquerading as honesty, loyalties that shifted with the wind—it all became too much. In the end, he found the cycle of reaching out and being let down more draining than solitude itself.
So, he decided to simply live a calm and peaceful life, just himself and his thoughts, with no one else intruding. It wasn't loneliness to him, not really—it was quiet, and quiet was easier to manage than disappointment. The only company he welcomed came from stories, the kind found in webnovels or the endless worlds of anime. Those were safe escapes, windows into lives that weren't his own but which offered him something to hold on to. He didn't have real dreams of his own. Sure, he indulged in daydreams—slipping into the role of an anime protagonist, imagining himself replacing the main character and dishing out punishment to story figures that frustrated him. But beyond those harmless fantasies, there were no grand ambitions pulling him forward.
He liked to imagine growing old alone, unbothered by drama, untouched by the messiness of relationships. Once, in the past, the thought of never marrying might have stung, a reminder of something missing. But over time he realized he simply didn't want the trouble that came with carrying another person's burdens and needs alongside his own. Love was beautiful in theory, yet he didn't have the courage—or as he put it, the balls—to give his heart to someone else. And he wasn't the kind of man who sought fleeting pleasure or one-night stands, either. That path held no meaning for him.
Instead, he settled for simpler outlets. Hentai and porn filled whatever physical gaps needed filling, temporary stand-ins for something deeper he wasn't prepared to chase. On occasion, his mind wandered toward trying things he normally avoided, urges pulling him in directions he didn't entirely trust. But those moments never lasted long. He always managed to regain his calm, to pull himself back into the steady, solitary rhythm that defined his life.
What all of this was trying to say was simple enough—there would be no character development for our MC. He wasn't some lost soul searching for purpose, nor was he waiting for the right push to change. He was a man who already knew what he wanted, who was genuinely satisfied with the life he had built. He wanted no one else in it, for any reason, and he believed that conviction would hold until the end of his days… or so he thought.
[You have been granted 1 wish. State your wish and it shall be granted.
Time Limit: 12 hours remaining]
The message appeared without warning, a glowing blue screen that seemed to stretch across the fabric of reality itself. One moment, the world was ordinary; the next, every pair of eyes—no matter where they were, no matter who they belonged to—saw the same words. From remote tribes hidden deep in the ocean, forests, and deserts, untouched by modern technology, to the polished offices of world leaders, from the vilest of criminals locked in cells, to the kindest of people offering charity on the streets, it appeared before all.
Age, circumstance, and language meant nothing. Infants, elders, the sick lying on the edge of death, even newborns who had barely opened their eyes—all of them were shown the same screen. And somehow, in a way that defied comprehension, every single person understood the message. Even those who had never seen a written word in their lives felt the meaning of the text, carved directly into their minds.
"Looks like I'm not going crazy." Back to our MC—he sat with his phone in hand, scrolling through the chaos that had erupted online. On X, the platform once called Twitter, post after post was filled with confusion, panic, and wild speculation. People across the world were questioning the sudden blue screen, trying to make sense of what had just appeared before their eyes. Some were hysterical, others skeptical, and even those who had been livestreaming at the time were caught on camera freezing mid-sentence, their expressions betraying the same shock he felt. The whole planet seemed united in a single, bewildered moment.
"Well, since you might be real… I need to think carefully about this." He spoke softly to himself, as if the screen were listening. Right away, his mind went to the darker possibilities. It wasn't hard to imagine there were people out there battling their own demons, people with twisted impulses who would jump at the chance to watch the world burn. What kind of wish would they make? What kind of destruction could they unleash if this screen truly had the power it claimed?
If that was the case, then chaos wasn't just possible—it was inevitable. He could already picture it: unstable people running wild, their new wishes in hand, drunk on the sheer intoxication of power.
"I wish for Nexus. It's the ability I created for one of my novels. I want the full ability, exactly as I described it in the novel, with the only difference being that the limitations are removed. Improve the race change that comes with this ability to the absolute limit, all while my mind doesn't shatter or suffer any side effects from this ability, and only gain the benefits." He spoke softly, almost testing the waters, but the moment the words left his lips, the glowing screen shifted from blue to a bright yellow.
[Processing the request… Wish request has been accepted. Wish shall be granted in 10 hours and 54 minutes.]
He blinked at the message, his chest tightening. 'Really… that was granted?' The thought echoed in disbelief. Nexus wasn't just some random idea he had scribbled down—it was an ability he had built carefully, combining four separate powers into one overwhelming fusion. In his stories, it had been the ability of the MC's final enemy, with the MC only winning that final battle because the user of Nexus wanted to lose.
Yet now it was his. The system, whatever it was, had accepted it without question. A rush of shock gave way to unease, and unease slid into regret. Maybe he had been too quick. Maybe, instead of asking for Nexus, he should have pushed further, aimed higher, created a wish even more absurdly powerful wish.
Sighing, he decided not to waste time. The world had already tipped into uncertainty, and if the coming wishes truly held power, then caution was the only sane response. He made a trip to the store, starting with practical supplies.