Ethan Blake wandered aimlessly through the streets, his heart racing a mile a minute. The floating clock in front of his eyes ticked down—59 minutes left. The evening had already slipped away, and he had no idea how to possibly clear the challenge.
He’d spent hours pacing, turning over desperate ideas. At one point he even thought about robbing a store just to pay a prostitute, but guilt and conscience held him back. Now, with so little ti remaining, he even considered grabbing soone off the street. But Ethan wasn’t so twisted predator—he forced himself to stay sane.
[Ethan! Remaining ti: 59 minutes. Plan of action?]
"I don’t know what to do!" he muttered, his voice trembling. "System, help ... please... give a hint or sothing... you can’t just let die like this. Every other system gives newbies so kind of easy mission, a starter pack, a helping hand. Why do I get this near-impossible nightmare?"
[Sorry, washed-up Einstein... I can’t step in directly. Better hurry. Tic-tock, tic-tock. If you fail, I promise you a nice wooden coffin and I’ll bury you on top of Mount Everest so you’re just as cold as your pickup skills.]
Ethan stopped in front of his apartnt building. He took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, still racking his brain for options. As he reached his floor, he heard yelling and the crash of dishes slamming against walls. His landlord’s fight with his wife had clearly gotten out of control.
"Damn it, George! Money is all you ever care about! Life isn’t just about money!"
"You’re wrong, Linda! I work to keep this place running! And you just waste it all! Who pays for your dresses, your car, your whole damn lifestyle?!"
George’s face twisted in rage as he shouted, flailing his arms.
"I pay for everything here! If it weren’t for , you’d still be so cheap whore in that rundown shop where I found you!"
Ethan watched from the doorway, his pulse quickening. Cassandra... she had always been kind to him before. Without thinking too hard, he knew he had to at least step in.
George stord out, still furious, brushing past Ethan without even noticing him. Cassandra stood alone, staring after her husband disappearing down the street.
Ethan walked up carefully, not wanting to startle her.
"Everything’s going to be alright... don’t worry. If you need anything, I can try to help."
Cassandra blinked, surprised at the calm in his voice. She’d always known Ethan as a careless boy barely scraping by, but right now he seed... dependable.
"Thanks for the thought, but it’s not necessary. Just... promise when you grow older, don’t beco a bastard like him."
"Of course. I always try to do my best."
Ethan smiled faintly and turned back toward his apartnt door, not wanting to bother her any further.
[Co on, tell her you can help her blow off steam. She’s a hot milf, pri chance here.]
"You’re an idiot. Did you not see how pissed she was? Best-case scenario, she stabs with a kitchen knife."
Cassandra was about to close the door when she suddenly froze, staring at Ethan’s back as he fumbled with his keys.
"If you want... you can co in. I just finished cooking, and I’d hate for it to go to waste."
Ethan hesitated. Ti was running short, and he still had to find soone to sleep with if he wanted to survive. But he couldn’t turn her down—not Cassandra, the only one who’d shown him kindness through all his misery.
"Well... if I’m going to die, I suppose there are worse ways to spend my last monts than in the company of soone as lovely as you."
He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Sitting at the table, he eyed the carefully prepared food and began to eat. The silence was heavy, tense.
His eyes flicked to the clock: 34 minutes.
"Wine... could you pour so?" Ethan asked, using the request as an excuse.
Cassandra returned in a pale yellow dress that hugged her waist, brushing just past her knees. Her dark hair flowed in soft waves, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion and frustration.
"Here," she said, setting the glass in front of him. "Are you okay, Ethan? You look... overwheld."
"Not... not really," he admitted, taking a sip before lowering his gaze.
Her expression softened.
"You can tell your troubles. If I can, I’ll try to help."
Ethan gave a short, ironic laugh, rembering he’d said the sa words earlier. He drew a shaky breath, then let it out.
"Everything’s fallen apart. Harvard didn’t work out, they pulled my scholarship... and if I don’t complete this, I’m finished. I’ve got no one else to turn to..."
Cassandra’s face filled with sympathy. She laid a hand on his shoulder, still confused by his strange words, but she didn’t press.
"I’m so sorry, Ethan... nobody should have to carry that much alone."
"Thank you... it’s just that seeing all this... it makes feel powerless. And you... you’ve always been so... warm to ..."
Cassandra sighed, bitterness creeping into her softened expression.
"George and I... we fight all the ti about money. I feel trapped... helpless. Sotis I just drink to forget. I feel like my life is slipping away. I’m not young or beautiful anymore."
Ethan leaned closer, urgency in his voice.
"No... don’t say that. You’re still so beautiful. And I’m here. You can lean on ..."
She looked at him, startled by the intensity in his gaze.
"Ethan... no..."
"Just a mont..." he interrupted, his tone desperate. "Please."
The tir glowed before his eyes: 0:02:30. The System whispered with mocking glee: [Tic-tock, washed-up Einstein... every second counts.]
Ethan drew a deep breath, setting down his glass. Then, in a sudden, reckless motion, he leaned toward her, driven by the ticking clock.
"There’s no ti... I have to..."
Cassandra gasped, wide dark eyes flashing with shock, anger—and sowhere deep inside, a spark of long-buried desire flickered like a hidden ember ready to ignite.
"What?! Ethan! This isn’t a ga!"
Her heart pounded, torn between confusion, outrage, and the swirl of emotions clawing up from within. Ethan’s pulse hamred in his ears as the final seconds of his last chance slipped away.
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