Minh Truong learned something terrifying that week.
The numbers were not fair.
At first, he had believed the system followed simple logic: bad people lost time, good people gained it, and everything balanced out in some cosmic equation. It was comforting to think the world still made sense—that morality was being quietly audited somewhere behind reality.
But the system had no such mercy.
He discovered this on a rainy Thursday night.
Minh Truong was walking home later than usual, the streetlights flickering like tired eyes. His shift had ended early, yet he lingered, afraid of the silence waiting in his apartment. The number above his head ticked down steadily:
71:22:18:04
Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds.
He had lost almost an entire day since the incident with the pickpocket. No explanation. No warning.
Just loss.
As he passed a narrow alley near the old market, voices cut through the rain—sharp, desperate, unmistakably wrong.
"Give it back!" a woman cried.
Minh Truong stopped.
His heart began to pound, not from fear, but from recognition. He already knew what he would see. The system had trained him well.
A man stood in the alley, cornering a woman against a brick wall. One hand clutched her bag. The other pressed too close to her chest. She struggled, slipping on wet pavement.
Above the man's head:
12:03:44:11
Twelve days.
Above the woman's head:
89:16:02:58
Nearly three months.
Minh Truong's breath caught.
This wasn't just theft. This wasn't an accident. The man's posture, his smile—it was the same kind of predator Minh Truong had seen on the bus days ago. The kind that took because no one stopped them.
The system pulsed.
Not a voice. Not words.
A pressure behind his eyes.
He understood.
If he intervened—if he stopped the man—time would shift. He didn't know how much. He didn't know for whom. But the balance would change.
If he walked away… nothing would happen.
Except the clock would keep ticking.
Minh Truong's legs felt heavy.
He wasn't a hero. He had no training, no strength, no authority. If the man had a knife, Minh Truong could lose everything—his life, his remaining days.
And yet… twelve days.
That was all the man had.
A cold thought crept in, uninvited.
If someone like him disappeared from the equation… the world wouldn't lose much.
The woman screamed.
The sound snapped something inside Minh Truong.
"Hey!" he shouted.
The man turned, startled. His eyes flicked toward Minh Truong, then upward—confused, as if sensing something wrong but unable to see it.
"What do you want?" the man barked.
"Let her go," Minh Truong said, surprised his voice didn't shake.
The man laughed. "Mind your business."
Minh Truong stepped forward.
The system reacted instantly.
The number above the man's head began to flicker, the digits stuttering like a corrupted file.
12:03:44:11
12:03:43:98
12:03:43:76
Time was leaking.
The man's expression changed. His confidence wavered, replaced by sudden unease. He didn't know why—but his body did.
"Stay back," the man warned, tightening his grip.
Minh Truong raised his hands. "Take the bag and leave. Now."
For a moment, everything hung in balance.
Then the man shoved the woman aside and lunged.
Pain exploded across Minh Truong's shoulder as he was slammed into the wall. His vision blurred. The rain tasted like metal. He felt hands claw at his jacket, searching pockets, searching weakness.
Above the man's head, the numbers dropped faster.
11:23:59:12
11:23:58:40
11:23:56:91
The system was no longer passive.
It was accelerating.
Minh Truong didn't understand how, but instinct guided him. He grabbed the man's wrist and twisted, not hard enough to break—just enough to force release.
The man screamed.
And then—
The number vanished.
Not dropped to zero.
Vanished.
The man collapsed, gasping, eyes wide with terror. Alive—but something essential was gone. His movements slowed, as if gravity had doubled. He crawled away, sobbing, disappearing into the rain.
Silence returned to the alley.
Minh Truong slid down the wall, breathing hard. His entire body trembled.
Above his own head, the number glowed brighter than it ever had.
71:22:18:04
→ 72:10:06:19
He gained time.
The woman stared at him, shaking. "Th-thank you," she whispered.
Minh Truong nodded, unable to speak.
She ran.
Alone again, Minh Truong pressed his back against the cold bricks. His heart was still racing, but not from fear anymore.
From understanding.
The system didn't reward good intentions.
It rewarded decisive action.
And worse—it punished hesitation.
If he hadn't stepped in… the man would have walked away. The woman would have lost something she could never replace. And Minh Truong would have paid the price in silence.
The system wasn't asking him to be good.
It was forcing him to choose.
Above him, the number ticked calmly, indifferent to the chaos it caused.
Minh Truong laughed weakly.
"So that's it," he murmured. "Do nothing… and I die a little faster."
The rain washed over him as the realization settled deep in his chest.
This wasn't a gift.
It was a debt.
And the system would collect—whether he was ready or not.