The system's demand glared at Ethan like a neon sign:
> Develop and patent an invention under your name.
He sat at his desk, fingers raking through his hair, staring at the empty form on his laptop. Patent filings weren't like fixing ovens or dryers. They were official. Names. Addresses. Signatures. Once filed, his work would live forever in government databases.
He felt like he was being pushed into a trap.
---
Ethan tried to think it through. Patents meant recognition. Recognition meant reputation. Reputation drew clients.
The system wasn't just feeding him tools—it was building an empire around him, brick by brick. And if he hesitated, it would remind him of its favorite word: termination.
"Damn it," he muttered, pacing the small apartment. "I can't just file something futuristic. They'll tear it apart. They'll know it's impossible."
But then his lens flickered, pulling up a new menu.
> [Patenting Suggestions Available.]
Tier 1 Concepts (Low Suspicion): Simplified schematics adapted from advanced blueprints.
Tier 2 Concepts (Moderate Suspicion): Efficiency devices, minor automation, safety tech.
Tier 3 Concepts (High Suspicion): Energy breakthroughs, advanced AI, biotech.
Ethan's eyes locked on Tier 1. That was his safe zone. Something believable.
He scrolled through until one idea snagged his breath:
Smart Filter Cartridge.
A modular filter designed for home appliances. Simple to replace, reduces energy use by 15%, extends appliance life. Based on stripped-down schematics of the Self-Cleaning Filter.
It was perfect. Practical, realistic, and just advanced enough to catch attention without screaming "alien technology."
---
By late morning, Ethan's nerves were frayed. He needed guidance—someone who understood bureaucracy better than him.
And one face came to mind: Lily.
He found her in the courtyard, sketchbook open on her lap as she sketched the outline of their crumbling apartment building.
"Hey," he said softly.
She looked up, smiling. "You look like you didn't sleep again."
"Something like that." He sat beside her, lowering his voice. "Can I ask you something? Hypothetically."
Her brow furrowed. "Sure."
"If someone wanted to file a patent, how… complicated is it? Like, how much exposure are we talking?"
She blinked, surprised by the question. "That's… pretty big, Ethan. You're talking government databases, legal filings, public records. Once you patent something, it's out there for anyone to read."
His stomach sank.
"Why?" she asked, searching his face.
He hesitated, then forced a smile. "Just… an idea I've been toying with. Something mechanical."
Her eyes softened. "You never stop, do you? Always building, always fixing. Maybe that's a good thing. If it's real, maybe you should go for it."
Her encouragement steadied him more than he expected.
---
The next two days blurred into feverish work. Ethan built a prototype of the Smart Filter Cartridge using spare parts scavenged from junk appliances. The system guided his hand, stripping away anything too advanced, leaving something that looked like clever engineering rather than science fiction.
By the third night, he had a working unit: a compact, replaceable filter cartridge that really did extend machine life and reduce energy use.
When he tested it in his old fan, the hum softened, the blades spun smoother, and power draw dropped exactly as predicted.
Satisfied, he turned to the dreaded paperwork. His lens offered auto-complete features, feeding him phrasing and technical jargon tailored to blend with real patents. Ethan typed for hours, his hands shaking, until the document was ready.
At midnight, he hovered over the "Submit" button. His chest tightened. Once he clicked, there was no undoing it.
He closed his eyes. Do it.
The file uploaded.
The system chimed.
> [Quest Completed.]
Reward: 80 System Points Earned.
Reputation Advancement: Inventor Tier I.]
Total Points: 195.
Relief crashed over him. He had crossed another line.
---
But the relief didn't last.
The next morning, his inbox flooded with automated confirmations: government receipt notices, database filings, tracking numbers. His name, Ethan Cole, was now permanently attached to a legal invention.
And with it, his anonymity cracked.
As he scrolled through the emails, a message stood out. Not automated. Sent from a private address.
Mr. Cole,
I read your recent patent submission with great interest. I represent a group of investors eager to meet with innovative minds such as yours. Let's discuss potential partnerships. Coffee tomorrow?
— D. Harland
Ethan's blood ran cold. He didn't know the name. But he had a sinking feeling he knew the suit.
---
That evening, another knock came. Ethan's heart leapt into his throat, but when he opened the door, it was Lily.
She held out his mail with a smile. "They dropped this in my box by mistake."
He took it, mumbling thanks, but she didn't move. Her eyes searched his face.
"Ethan… I don't know what you're caught up in. But people are talking. Russo brags about you. Mrs. Morales says you're the best thing to happen to her laundromat. And now I hear whispers about an invention with your name on it."
His pulse spiked.
She touched his arm again, gently. "If you're doing something dangerous, you can tell me. You don't have to shut me out."
For a moment, Ethan almost broke. The words crowded at the back of his throat, desperate to spill free.
But the system's cold warning echoed in his mind:
> [Disclosure without authorization will result in penalties.]
He swallowed hard. "I'll be careful. That's all I can promise."
She searched his eyes, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Just… don't disappear on me."
Her footsteps echoed down the hall, leaving Ethan in silence, torn between the system's chains and the pull of her trust.
---
He dropped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, when the system chimed again.
> [Next Daily Quest Generated.]
Objective: Attend the investor meeting arranged by external contact.]
Reward: 100 System Points + Potential Resource Unlock.]
Time Limit: 48 hours.
Ethan's gut twisted. The system wasn't just aware of the email—it was pushing him toward it.
And that meant tomorrow, he'd be sitting face-to-face with the man in the gray suit.