Ethan Cole slipped the crumpled fifty-dollar bill into his worn wallet, tossed the bottle of Mirinda and the Heineken swimming cap into the basket of his battered electric scooter, and twisted the throttle to full. The scooter buzzed down the empty street like a swarm of angry bees, rattling beneath him as though it might fall apart at any second.
To an outsider, it was just fifty bucks and a couple of useless items. But to Ethan, it meant more than anyone could guess.
He was a man who knew the value of money all too well.
Life hadn't exactly been kind to him. His father had died when Ethan was eight. His mother remarried two years later, leaving him behind with a distant aunt who did her best but barely scraped by. In his third year of high school, cancer claimed her too. Alone and desperate, Ethan dropped out, working whatever odd jobs he could find just to survive. He'd been mocked, underpaid, ignored, and ground down by a world that seemed eager to remind him how small he was.
Just when he thought he'd hit rock bottom, a sliver of luck appeared: his uncle, a decent man with a soft heart, helped him set up a small internet café.
Calling it a "café" was generous. In reality, it was two connected bungalows on the outskirts of the city, with fewer than fifty computers—half of them already outdated when he bought them secondhand. The place had no neon signs or flashy atmosphere; it survived mostly on students from the nearby college who wanted a cheap place to play games late into the night.
In the beginning, business had been okay. But as years passed and competitors upgraded their rigs, Ethan's machines grew sluggish. Students drifted away. Now, the café barely made enough to pay the internet fees—when he could afford to pay them at all.
Earlier that day, Ethan had gone out to settle the monthly bill. Without payment, the connection would be cut tomorrow, and his café would effectively be dead. Scraping together the money had drained him so badly that he had barely anything left for food. That was why stumbling on that fifty-dollar bill earlier had felt like fate itself giving him a rare pat on the back.
But while the internet bill was settled, the rent was another story. He was already months behind, and his landlord was running out of patience.
By the time Ethan rolled up to the café's entrance, his chest tightened. A voice like a brass bell boomed from inside:
"Ethan! You think you can keep hiding from me?!"
He froze instantly.
Oh no. Not her.
His landlord was a formidable woman in her sixties, built like a retired wrestler. She didn't need a megaphone—her voice alone could rattle the windows. Ethan quickly veered into a side alley, crouching low on the scooter like a thief hiding from the law.
Inside the café, her shouting rattled the walls. "I'm not playing around! If you don't pay up, I'll start hauling away your computers one by one. Do you hear me, Ethan?"
A smaller, nervous voice tried to calm her down. "Uh, ma'am… I'm not the clerk here. I'm just… a customer! Honest!"
That was Chloe—short-haired, bright-eyed, and way too kind for her own good. She wasn't actually an employee. She was just a college kid who hung around the café so often that Ethan sometimes asked her to cover the counter whenever he needed to step out. He paid her back with free gaming hours, and she never seemed to mind.
But now she was face-to-face with a storm.
"Don't play dumb with me," the landlord barked. "Tell that no-good boss of yours that he's got one day. Starting tomorrow, I'll come back every morning. No money, no mercy—I'll take a computer each day until I've got my rent back!"
Her footsteps thudded so hard against the floorboards that even Ethan, hiding in the alley, felt them vibrate through the ground. Then, at last, she stomped away.
Chloe exhaled loudly, leaning against the counter. "Yes, ma'am, I'll be sure to tell him… go slowly now… don't trip…" She muttered sarcastically after the woman had left, then turned—and nearly jumped.
Ethan had slipped through the door like a fugitive, clutching the bottle of Mirinda in one hand and the swimming cap under his arm, sweat dripping down his temples. He looked like a man who'd just sprinted away from a crime scene.
"Ethan?!" Chloe gawked. She pointed at the retreating landlord in the distance. "She was just here! You—"
But Ethan didn't answer. He brushed past her and rushed straight to one of the café's old computers—Machine 16.
Chloe frowned. "Seriously? You almost got evicted, and the first thing you do is… what, play games?"
Machine 16 wasn't even functional. The thing had fried itself days ago when a weird radar-like image froze on its screen. Ethan had tried to reboot it, but when he yanked the power cord, a massive electric shock had knocked him flat. That shock had nearly killed him—but it had also awakened the strange Treasure Radar System in his head.
Now he was convinced it was no coincidence.
Frantically, Ethan tapped the broken keyboard, hoping to trigger something again. "Chloe, do you remember ever seeing a game called… Treasure Hunting Radar installed on this thing?"
Chloe crossed her arms. "What? No. What are you even talking about? The landlord's about to confiscate your café and you're chasing ghost games?"
Ethan ignored her, pulling up the café's central computer and running searches. Nothing. Not a single trace of any game like that.
Chloe's eyes narrowed at the swimming cap under his arm. "Uh… what is that? A hat? Or… underwear?"
"It's a swimming cap!" Ethan shot back, exasperated.
She snorted. "Since when do you swim?"
"Lucky draw," he muttered. Which, technically, wasn't even a lie.
Her gaze shifted to the cold soda bottle. "And the drink? Let me guess—that was part of your 'jackpot' too?"
Before he could protest, she plucked the bottle from his hand, took a long swig, and handed it back. "Thanks. Thirsty."
Ethan rolled his eyes but said nothing. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, his mind racing.
Who cares how this system appeared? he thought. All that matters is that it works. I've already found treasures—first the ring, now this junk. If I keep completing tasks, the rewards will get better. And once the system upgrades… I'll unlock new worlds to search in. Time travel, riches, power—it's all possible.
He almost laughed out loud in excitement. When he opened his eyes, Chloe was staring at him like he'd grown a second head.
"You've finally lost it," she said flatly. "Poor and crazy—what a combo."
Ethan groaned. "Stop calling me poor. And call me brother, at least—I'm older than you."
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Sure thing, brother. If you're really that broke, maybe we should just sell blood together."
Her teasing softened Ethan's heart. For all her sarcasm, she'd been helping him for months, watching the counter, paying for her own hours even when she didn't have to. She was the only friend he had left.
Moved, he shoved the swimming cap into her hands. "Here. Take it."
She blinked at him. "A… swimming cap? That's your big gift?"
"It's Heineken brand! DuPont Lycra! Durable, flexible—top of the line!" he insisted.
Chloe buried her face in her palms. "You're hopeless."
But before Ethan could argue, a golden pulse flashed in his vision. The radar had lit up again—this time, the signal was coming from inside the café itself.
His eyes darted across the room until they landed on a heavyset guy hunched over a computer, mashing the keys in a game of League of Legends. The signal pointed directly beneath him.
Ethan marched forward, heart pounding.
The man looked up nervously as Ethan crouched at his feet. "Uh… boss? What are you doing down there?"
"Don't move," Ethan said sharply. He felt around under the chair—and his fingers closed on something smooth and rectangular.
A notification chimed in his head.
"Congratulations, host. You have obtained a Level 1 Treasure: iCrazy 6 Smartphone. Entertainment device, communication equipment."
Ethan pulled out the phone triumphantly, wrapped in a glittery pink case. "Ha! Did you see that? Another treasure!"
The man adjusted his glasses, horrified. "Oh thank god, it's just a phone. For a second I thought you were—never mind."
Ethan strode back to the counter, holding the device like a trophy. "Chloe, wealth is coming—I can feel it!"
The phone's screen lit up, displaying the smiling face of a cheerful girl. Before Chloe could respond, the café door banged open.
A girl in a school uniform rushed inside, panting. "Boss! My phone—have you seen my phone?"
Ethan froze. His eyes flicked between her and the photo on the screen. Same girl. Same smile.
She spotted the phone in his hand and gasped. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" She bowed, snatched it from him, and dashed out before Ethan could say a word.
He stood there dumbfounded, arm still half-extended.
Behind him, Chloe burst into laughter. "Hah! Your treasure just ran out the door! So much for getting rich, huh?"
Ethan's mind reeled. Wait—the system said treasures belong to me. How could she just take it back?
But then a new panel appeared in his mind:
Treasure Hunt Mission: Progress 1/5
Understanding hit him like a bolt. So it's not about keeping every item. It's about finding them. Complete five hunts, and the system upgrades…
Excitement surged through him again. Without another word, Ethan bolted for the door, determined to chase the next treasure.