The words wouldn't leave his vision.
> Demonstrate one advanced invention publicly.
Ethan lay awake most of the night, staring at the cracked ceiling, his thoughts turning in frantic circles.
Private upgrades were one thing. Quiet fixes. Hidden miracles. He could tell himself those were safe.
But publicly? That was a different world. The wrong pair of eyes could unravel everything—corporate vultures, government agencies, even opportunistic neighbors.
The system didn't care about any of that.
He had 48 hours.
---
By morning, Ethan's mind felt frayed. He stumbled through the city streets with his backpack, nursing a cheap coffee, running through possibilities.
The booster he'd installed in Lily's heater had been discreet. But what could he demonstrate that would look impressive without screaming alien technology?
He considered the café oven again. If he revealed the efficiency upgrade in a business setting, it would attract attention fast. Too fast.
He needed something that seemed innovative but plausible. Something that wouldn't immediately trigger suspicion—just curiosity.
His lens flickered, pulling up the catalog. His 45 points weren't enough for the bigger items, but there was one entry highlighted faintly, almost beckoning:
Self-Cleaning Filter (30 Points).
Automatically removes debris, dust, and residue from any system it's installed in. Extends machine life by decades.
Ethan's breath caught. That was perfect. Useful, subtle, and something that could pass as clever engineering.
He bought it. His points dipped to 15, and another schematic unfolded in his mind.
Now he just needed a stage.
---
That afternoon, he returned to the café. The owner, Mr. Russo, was bustling behind the counter, barking orders at his staff.
Ethan waited until there was a lull, then approached. "Hey, Mr. Russo. Got a minute?"
The man frowned. "What's up, kid? Oven's working fine, thanks to you."
"I was wondering…" Ethan hesitated, pulse hammering. "Would you mind if I tested something here? A kind of… upgrade. It'll make your oven even more reliable."
Mr. Russo raised an eyebrow. "What, you running experiments in my kitchen now?"
Ethan swallowed. "Think of it as… a demonstration. If it doesn't work, no harm done. If it does, you get an even better oven."
The man considered him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Fine. You earned some trust. But you break it, you buy it."
Ethan exhaled slowly. "Deal."
--
The café's kitchen bustled with heat and motion. Ethan crouched by the oven again, tools in hand. His lens overlaid the schematic, guiding his every movement.
The Self-Cleaning Filter assembled seamlessly, sliding into the machine's guts like it had always belonged there.
When he was done, he stood back. "Alright. Watch closely."
He pressed a button. The oven hummed—and then, impossibly, its inner surfaces began to shimmer. Grease, burnt residue, and caked-on grime dissolved before their eyes, vanishing as though the metal had been scrubbed spotless by invisible hands.
Mr. Russo's jaw dropped. "What the hell—?"
A waitress leaned in, eyes wide. "Did… did it just clean itself?"
Ethan forced a calm smile. "New kind of filter. Breaks down buildup automatically. Cuts down on maintenance and fire risk."
The kitchen buzzed with astonishment. One cook whistled low. "That's… that's insane."
Word spread quickly. By the time Ethan stepped out into the café, customers were craning their necks, whispering about the oven that cleaned itself.
And the system chimed.
> [Quest Completed]
Reward: 40 System Points Earned.
Total Points: 55.
Bonus: Public Reputation Increased.
Ethan's knees nearly gave out. Relief and exhilaration surged through him. He had done it. He had crossed the line—and survived.
---
But as he packed up, he felt eyes on him.
Near the back of the café, a man in a gray suit stirred his coffee, watching Ethan with too much interest. His expression was polite, neutral—but his gaze lingered in a way that made Ethan's skin crawl.
Ethan grabbed his backpack, muttered a quick goodbye to Mr. Russo, and slipped out into the street, heart racing.
The system's voice was cool, detached:
> [Notice: Advancements demonstrated publicly may attract attention from external entities.]
"Yeah," Ethan muttered under his breath. "No kidding."
--
That evening, back in the apartment building, Ethan ran into Lily on the stairwell. She was carrying a sketchbook tucked under her arm.
"Hey," she said, smiling. "I heard something about you at Russo's café today. Something about an oven that cleans itself?"
Ethan froze. "You… heard that?"
"Word travels fast around here," she said lightly. "People are saying you pulled off some kind of miracle."
He forced a laugh. "Miracle's a strong word. Just… good engineering."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're full of surprises, Ethan. Every time I think I've figured you out, you show me something new."
For a moment, her gaze held his, steady and warm. His throat tightened.
"Guess I like keeping people guessing," he managed.
She smiled faintly, then stepped past him. "Don't keep me guessing forever."
Her words lingered long after she was gone.
--
That night, Ethan sat at his desk, staring at the system catalog. His public demonstration had worked—but the memory of the man in the gray suit haunted him.
He barely had time to breathe before the system chimed again:
> [Next Daily Quest Generated]
Objective: Secure two repeat clients within 72 hours.
Reward: 60 System Points.
Ethan leaned back, rubbing his temples.
Clients meant exposure. Exposure meant risk. But without points, he couldn't advance. And without advancement, the system's threat of termination still hung over him.
He didn't know it yet, but the man in the gray suit had already made a call. And Ethan's quiet life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.