A few minutes later. Mark didn't remember how he left the café. Only that his face burned, his ribs ached, and something inside him had finally cracked beyond repair.
The cold night air slapped him awake as he walked, no destination, no plan, just putting one foot in front of the other because stopping meant thinking.
And thinking hurts.
'Pathetic.' The word echoed in his skull with every step. Pathetic for believing love could survive poverty, for thinking hard work meant something, for dreaming when life had already decided his role, an extra. Disposable. Invisible.
His heart felt like it had been hollowed out with a dull blade. Elizabeth's face replayed in his mind, over and over. The glare. The denial. The way she erased him so easily, like he was nothing more than an inconvenience she could label and discard.
Stalker.
That word hurt more than the punch. He had loved her. Truly. Genuinely. He had skipped meals to buy her gifts, worked overtime to take her on dates, and believed in a future that now felt laughably naive.
And she replaced him with a man who had everything Mark never would.
Money. Power. Status. Things that followed Jacob Lim effortlessly, while Mark had to bleed just to survive another month.
His chest tightened. I'm so tired. Tired of waking up poor, of calculating prices before touching anything, of pretending humiliation didn't eat at him. Everything in his life screamed poverty.
The way managers spoke to him with disgust. The way people like Jacob Lim could ruin him without consequence. Even love wasn't spared.
By the time he realized where he was, the city lights shimmered beneath him like a distorted galaxy. Cars passed below, distant and uncaring. The bridge railing felt cold beneath his hands.
Mark stared down. For the first time that night, his thoughts went quiet. No fear. Just relief. If I end it here… it finally stops. No more struggling. No more disappointment.
No more being a burden. Then his phone buzzed. He hesitated, then ignored the call. His mother's name stared back at him. His throat tightened painfully. With shaking fingers, he typed.
'Ma… I'm tired. I tried. I really did. Please take care of my sister. I'm sorry I wasn't enough.'
Another message. 'I love you both. I'm at the end.'
Yes, he knew it was selfish. He knew his mother would cry and his sister would be confused, angry, and broken. But he was so exhausted.
Mark stared at the glowing screen of his phone for a long moment, the messages he had sent still unread. His thumb hovered uselessly over the device as if waiting for it to vibrate. For a call. For a miracle. For someone to say, don't do it.
Nothing came. The wind brushed past him, cool and indifferent. This is it, he thought. This is where it ends. He closed his eyes. And stepped forward.
He would end it now, this suffering, this endless ache in his chest. The heartbreak, the humiliation, and the pain that never dulled no matter how hard he worked or how much he endured.
Then the wind pushed him, and he fell…down, down…
For a fleeting moment, he felt the rush of air tear past him. Then…water. It was cold and unforgiving. All-consuming. His body sank, and the world muffled into distant silence.
Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision, heavy and comforting. His lungs burned briefly, then even that sensation faded. Mark welcomed it.
So this is the end, he thought faintly.
Finally… rest.
But, thump. His heart beat. Once. Then again.
Thump. Thump.
"What…?" His eyes flew open. He was standing. Still dry. Still alive. Right back at the bridge railing. The sunset still painted the sky in orange and violet hues.
Cars continued to pass as if nothing had happened, horns blaring faintly, engines humming. The world hadn't stopped. It hadn't even noticed. Mark staggered back, panic crashing into him.
"WHAT THE HECK?!" His hands flew over his body. No wet clothes. No injuries. No pain. He slapped his cheek hard.
Nothing. No sting. No ache. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.
"Am I hallucinating? Or am I a ghost now?" He slapped his face again, this time, a little harder. "No… no…" he muttered, looking around wildly.
"This isn't possible." There was no falling? No death? No darkness? The cold metal railing was still beneath his palms. The bridge was still solid beneath his feet. His heart slammed violently against his ribs like it was trying to escape.
I should be dead.
"Imposible…" His voice cracked, barely louder than the wind.
Then…it appeared. Out of nowhere. A flicker of blue light shimmered in the air before him. Mark flinched, stumbling back as a translucent screen materialized, hovering silently at eye level like a living thing. His breath caught in his throat.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it! I'm going crazy and hallucinating. He opened his eyes again. The screen was still there. Glowing. Unreal.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
[HOST STATUS: MARK PASCUAL]
[CAUSE OF ACTIVATION: ABSOLUTE DESPAIR]
"What the hell…?" Mark whispered hoarsely. His mind raced. Am I dead? Is this some kind of afterlife?
The words shifted.
[LIFE TERMINATION ATTEMPT DETECTED]
[DEATH DENIED]
His knees nearly gave out. "Death… denied?" he echoed weakly. The screen pulsed softly, as if acknowledging him.
[WELCOME, MARK PASCUAL.]
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE LIVING ON YOUR TERMS?]
The question hung in the air. Mark stared at it, frozen. On my terms? A strange thought surfaced, uninvited. Manga… Web novels… Those ridiculous power fantasies I read during breaks… Systems. Second chances. Protagonists who were once nothing. His hands trembled. This wasn't hope.
Not yet. But something moved deep inside his shattered chest, something dark, sharp, and unfamiliar. A spark born not from kindness, but from exhaustion. From rage. From being pushed too far.
Mark collapsed onto the bridge railing, then slid down until he was sitting on the cold concrete. His legs wouldn't stop shaking. He dragged in a breath.
Then another. Slow. Shallow. Like his body hadn't decided yet whether it wanted to panic or shut down entirely. "Okay," he muttered hoarsely. "Okay… if I'm insane, I might as well be thoroughly insane."
With trembling fingers, he reached out and tapped the blue screen. Nothing exploded. No lightning. No divine judgment. The screen responded instantly.
[ACCESSING SYSTEM DETAILS…]
"Oh, good," Mark said weakly. "It has menus."
The words shifted, lines of text unfolding smoothly, far too polished for a hallucination.
SYSTEM NAME: WEALTHY IMMORTALITY SYSTEM
Mark blinked.
CORE RULE: PAIN = PROFIT
Mark stared. Then laughed harder, painfully harder...But a sharp, more text appeared, cheerfully indifferent.
INCOME CONVERSION TABLE
Minor Physical Injury (Punch, Kick, Blunt Impact)
→ $100,000
Moderate Injury (Broken Bone, Deep Laceration)
→ $5,000,000 – $10,000,000
Severe Injury (Stab Wound, Gunshot, Organ Damage)
→ $10,000,000 - $15,000,000
Near-Death State (Clinically Fatal Condition)
→ $15,000,000 - $50,000,000
Confirmed Death
→ $100,000,000
"Jesus! That is crazy!" The world tilted. Mark slapped the screen instinctively. His hand passed right through it. "Qhat kind of sick lottery is this?!"
The system chimed.
[NOTE: PAIN MUST BE AUTHENTIC.]
[SELF-DECEPTION INVALID.]
Mark let out a strangled laugh. "So I can't just… stub my toe dramatically?"
[INCORRECT.]
"Of course it is." He leaned back, staring up at the fading sky. "So let me get this straight," he said slowly, voice laced with disbelief. "If someone punches me… I will get one hundred thousand dollars."
[CONFIRMED.]
"And if I get stabbed,"
[FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS CREDITED UPON INJURY.]
"…You know what," Mark muttered, rubbing his face. "I read web novels. I read manga. I've seen some unhinged systems." He looked straight at the glowing screen. "This is deranged." The system did not deny it. More text appeared.
SYSTEM SHOP AVAILABLE
Mark squinted. "…Oh." The list expanded.
PURCHASABLE ENHANCEMENTS
Strength (Basic → Superhuman)
Speed & Reflexes
Clear Mind (Pain Suppression, Emotional Control)
Genius Mind (Accelerated Learning, Tactical Intelligence)
Enhanced Vision (Night, Distance, Detail)
Super Strength
Regenerative Resistance (NOT IMMUNITY)
Each item shimmered with a price tag. Mark's jaw dropped. "Are you insane?! This costs more than a ferrari!"
[CORRECT.]
"Of course it does," he groaned. "Why wouldn't it." He scrolled. And then froze. At the bottom.
IMMORTALITY CLAUSE
[HOST CANNOT PERMANENTLY DIE.]
[UPON DEATH: RESET INITIATED.]
His heart skipped. "…Reset?"
[HOST WILL RESPAWN AT ACTIVATION POINT.]
[LOCATION: THIS BRIDGE.]
[STATUS: BASELINE PHYSICAL CONDITION.]
[FUNDS: ZERO.]
[ENHANCEMENTS: LOST.]
Silence. The kind that roared in his ears. "So…" Mark said carefully, dread creeping into his voice. "If I die…"
[YOU RETURN HERE.]
"…Broke?"
[CONFIRMED.]
"…Weak?"
[CONFIRMED.]
"…Like none of this ever happened?"
[CONFIRMED.]
Mark laughed again,this time sharp, hysterical. "So if I get greedy," he said, voice shaking between laughter and terror, "if I miscalculate, if I get too hurt,"
[YOU START OVER.]
"Wow," he whispered. "That's not immortality." That was punishment. That was a leash. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, staring at the city below. "So the only way to get rich," he murmured, "is to suffer."
[CORRECT.]
"And the only way to keep it," he continued, eyes darkening, "is to survive."
[CORRECT.]
A long breath left his chest. He was still shaking. Still terrified. Still very tired. But beneath it all, beneath the fear and disbelief, something twisted into place. He looked back at the glowing screen.
"Guess I don't get to be a hero," he said softly. The city lights flickered below like a challenge. "But I can get rich."