The room was swallowed in darkness, its corners dissolved into shadow. The only light came from the laptop screen, casting a pale blue glow across the young man's face. He sat there in a chair, headphones wrapped snugly over his ears, eyes fixed on the laptop screen before him.
From the faint leakage of sound, barely audible beyond the headphones, came broken whispers and breathy gasps
I… ah… ah… I like it… keep going… ahh…
The young man, sitting on a chair, unzipped his pants and pulled them down.
" WOW she is super sexy. " His hand is around his Dick.
The glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes as he gave in to the moment, shutting out everything else around him.
His breathing quickened.
He closed his eyes and started imagining himself with her in the video, moving his hand faster and faster.
Afterward, he reached for a tissue, his chest rising and falling as his breathing slowly returned to normal.
He left his desk and walked to the bathroom, washing his hands as he caught his reflection in the mirror. Back at his desk, he closed the laptop with a soft click, then drew the curtains open. The room filled with the gentle glow of evening light.
Then he lay down on the bed.
He stretched out his hand upward.
"This is the last time I do it… I…"
He sighed deeply.
"It's been more than a year, and every single day…. it has become a routine."
He picked up his phone and started scrolling through social media.
"Damn it… couple after couple. Why is my feed full of them? I've been single my whole life."
He groaned. "Another couple."
He put his phone down and leaned back, his mind drifting to the pornvideos he had watched earlier.
The main character had been impossibly lucky, stumbling upon a cheat skill that seemed to open every door to his dreams.
He sighed, staring at the ceiling. If only life worked that way.
He suddenly spotted something blackish.
"Now I'm damaging my eyes with too much screen time," he muttered, rubbing them with both hands.
He opened his eyes and saw a transparent blue screen in front of him.
[PROCESSING...]
The young man shouted, "YES" in pure happiness.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he whispered.
"I've been waiting for you forever. Thank you! Thank you so much, SYSTEM "
The young man's is Sam Lysh.
He is twenty-two, caught in that strange limbo between youth and adulthood. He was a university student, though lately he wasn't sure what he was studying for or why.
According to him, he is currently studying to delay his unemployment.
Four years ago, a car accident had stolen his parents from the world, leaving him with only his maternal grandmother, a woman whose hands are rough from years of gardening and community work. Every coin she earns went toward her own survival and to pay Sam's tuition.
Sam carries a quiet shame every day.
He lies to her, telling her he lived in a hostel with friends, that he was thriving in a bustling social life. The truth is far grimmer: he lived alone in a rented room, eking out a living with a part-time job at a convenience store, friendless and unremarkable.
He had once been cheerful, a boy who laughed easily, who spent afternoons on the football field with friends. But those days feel like a lifetime ago.
He wasn't talented.
He wasn't a prodigy.
He wasn't extraordinary.
He was just average.
And yet, in his quiet moments, the weight of dependency, the burden of lies, and the absence of his parents pressed on him, whispering that he was failing not only himself but the one person who had sacrificed everything for him.
Sam sat motionless in front of the blue screen.
[PROCESSING…]
Nothing else.
Hours passed.
The room grew quieter, heavier, as if time itself had slowed to match the screen's stillness. Sam leaned forward, eyes fixed, waiting for something—anything—to change. But the message remained the same, unmoving, indifferent.
He exhaled sharply and reached out.
His fingers met nothing.
They passed straight through the screen as though it weren't there at all.
"What…?"
Grabbing his phone, he quickly snapped a photo.
The result: nothing.
No blue glow.
No message.
Nothing.
He turned toward the mirror across the room, angling it to catch the screen's reflection.
Still nothing.
No glow.
No words.
Just an empty wall staring back at him.
"Okay… that's just as expected."
Frustration took over. With a sudden burst of anger, Sam grabbed a nearby object and hurled it at the screen.
It passed through the screen.
Silence followed.
Then—
His eyes caught the time.
"Oh no…!"
"I'm going to be late!"
He scrambled to his feet, shoved on his shoes, and rushed out the door.
A few minutes later, Sam pushed open the back door of the store, slightly out of breath.
He glanced at the clock and let out a long sigh.
"Thank God… I'm on time."
He quickly tied on his apron.
Then the door creaked open again.
A middle-aged man stepped into the staff room.
"Sam," he said plainly, "you've got a double shift today. John called in—he can't make it."
Sam blinked, caught off guard.
"What? I mean… yeah. Sure. No problem."
"Good," the man nodded, already turning to leave.
The door shut behind him.
Sam stood there for a moment, expression tightening.
"Double shift," he muttered under his breath.
"But not like I'll get paid extra."
He let out a bitter laugh.
"He will find some excuse—late by a minute, missed a spot, 'not working hard enough'… always something to cut the pay."
He dropped into a chair, elbows on his knees, head hanging low.
"If it weren't for rent… I would've quit this job a long time ago."
A deep sigh escaped him.
He glanced towards the blue screen.
[PROCESSING…]
Sam straightened slowly, rubbing his face.
"Doesn't matter now," he muttered.
"No use crying over spilled milk."
He stood up, forcing himself into motion.
"Let's just get this over with."
It was late.
The kind of late where the store felt half-asleep, lights buzzing faintly overhead. Only a few customers drifted in now and then, their footsteps echoing in the quiet aisles.
Sam stood behind the counter, eyes fixed on the screen.
Still the same.
[PROCESSING…]
He leaned closer.
"Come on… show me something," he muttered.
He raised his hand and pointed at it, pushing his fingers forward—
They slipped pass through the screen.
Just like before.
But this time.
He felt something soft under his finger as he pushed forward. The sensation caught him off guard—warm, smooth.
"Excuse me?" a woman's voice snapped in anger.
Sam's finger pressed against her boob.
He pulled his hand back at once.
She had an angry expression, her face tight with irritation. She looked about the same age as Sam, dressed in a short skirt, her dark blonde hair falling loosely around her shoulders.
"Show you what loser"
"Uh—sorry!" he said quickly.
She slapped Sam.
Then she grabbed the items from the store shelf.
"Here. I'm taking these and not paying, you pervert."
Sam blinked, startled. "Why would you have to pay for it?"
She slammed her hand down on the counter.
"Do you want me to call the cops after the sexual harassment you just did?"
Sam swallowed.
"You can have it."
She took the items and left the store.
Sam rubbed his head with one hand, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"Oh man… talk about bad luck. She was a cutie too and now she probably thinks I'm some kind of pervert."
He shook his head.
The rest of his shift dragged on, each minute stretching longer than the last. By the time it was finally over, he grabbed his things and left the store without a second thought.
It was the middle of the night.
The streets were nearly empty, lit only by flickering streetlights and the occasional passing car. Sam walked toward his apartment, hands in his pockets, his mind still stuck on the screen.
"Oh… well, at least it adjusts brightness automatically," he muttered to himself.
A few more steps passed by before something felt off.
He slowed down.
Frowned.
Then stopped completely.
"…Wait."
This wasn't right.
The buildings didn't look familiar.
The street didn't feel right.
His eyes widened.
"Oh, great."
He had taken a wrong turn.
With a groan, he spun around and started jogging back the way he came, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night.
That's when he heard it.
A faint sound.
Low.
Unclear.
He slowed.
Listened.
There it was again.
Moaning.
"aaaaahhhh...aaaaahhhh"