Chapter 38: Better Prepare the Prompt
[Ding!]
[Daily Quest Activated]
[Quest – Make Them Clash]
[Details]:
– Target: 2 individuals
– Objective: Use Hijack to spark an argument between them
– Reward: 10 EXP, 10 Hijack Points
– Bonus: +40 EXP and +20 Hijack Points if the fight escalates to violence
[Duration: 5 hours]
[Time Left: 4:59:59...]
[PENALTY]:
Failing to complete the mission within the time limit will cause limbic system suppression for 24 hours.
Effects:
– Emotional dysregulation
– Inability to control anger or sadness properly
– Heightened risk of irrational behavior
----
Caleb froze. His brows arched slightly and then—pffft. A short laugh slipped out of him.
"Hahhahaha... shit... my life’s turning more and more into a damn video game..."
The laugh echoed through the broken-down room—absurd, bitter, sharp. Caleb pressed a hand to his forehead, his breath uneven from his own twisted amusement.
"So if I fail... my limbic system gets crippled? Damn, that means I’ll be an emotion-leaking machine for 24 hours. Whether it’s rage or tears—just spilling out all over the place. Hahaha... insane..."
He lowered his head, fingers drumming lightly on the rickety table beside him. His eyes narrowed, a thin smile still clinging to his face.
"Alright then... quest accepted. If this system wants me to be a monster... I’ll give them a show wilder than they ever imagined."
With slow but steady steps, Caleb pushed the door open. Torkside’s city air rushed in—thick with cigarette smoke, stale booze, and the stench of garbage.
"Now then... who should I crash into first..." he muttered, hand pressing against his growling stomach. Then he smirked faintly.
"...But first, better grab a sandwich."
Caleb finally stopped at the train station. He pulled out a few crumpled bills looted from Mike and traded them for a cheap sandwich and a cold drink from an old vending machine tucked in the corner of the platform.
Once the sandwich was in his hand, his stomach growled angrily, begging to be fed. But Caleb sighed, eyes scanning the busy station crowd.
"Damn... gotta find somewhere quiet. Feels exactly like being a fugitive."
He decided to head back to the old building. Climbing all the way up, he reached the rooftop. The roof was cracked and half-collapsing, but the air up here was fresher than the moldy stench below. He dropped himself against a crumbling slab of concrete, leaning back lazily.
Slowly, he pulled his mask down, unwrapped the sad little sandwich, and took the first bite. Bland—but enough to calm the emptiness in his gut since last night. The drink followed, its chill cutting down his dry throat.
From up here, the city was waking. Streets below were filling fast—cars and motorbikes fighting for space, horns blaring in bursts. The sun wasn’t blazing yet, but the shadows were already stretching long, creeping into noon.
Caleb paused mid-chew, his eyes locking onto a small crowd gathering below. His lips curved into a thin smile.
"Start a fight?" he muttered. "Heh... easier than I thought."
Caleb stopped chewing his sandwich, his gaze drifting blankly over the chaos of the city below. The horns, the chatter, the rush of the streets—all of it faded as his mind spun elsewhere.
"Maya..." he whispered under his breath. "Were you really that cruel? Wasn’t it enough to make my mom suffer? Even now I... I can barely picture my father’s face."
His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening. A sour ache twisted in his chest.
"Or... maybe Maya’s just a psychopath who loves wrecking lives? No... too easy. That can’t be the whole reason."
Suddenly, his thoughts jumped tracks.
"An inheritance...?" Caleb muttered, brow furrowing. "Hmm... it makes sense. If my father cared even a little... maybe he left something for me. Money, stocks, land—whatever it is, Maya sure as hell wouldn’t sit back quietly."
He straightened abruptly, breath catching, like a missing piece had just fallen into place.
"Shit..." he murmured. "The only son my father ever had... is me. The only real blood heir... is me."
Slowly, a thin smile crept across his lips. Bitter, but burning with a newfound certainty.
"Yeah. This is about money. Maya might’ve tricked my father before... but he wasn’t that stupid. He must’ve left something. Something meant to be mine."
The rooftop wind howled harder, but Caleb only grew calmer. The hunger gnawing at him moments ago turned into a flame inside his chest—an ambition that lit his eyes with a cold, sharp gleam.
After finishing his sandwich, he washed it down with a long drink. Caleb exhaled, then casually tossed the empty bottle aside. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of crumpled bills.
He stared at the money in his hand—wrinkled, dirty, barely worth anything. With a scoff, he flicked one note into the air. The paper drifted for a moment before landing on the grimy rooftop floor.
"Money..." Caleb muttered, voice flat. "What’s the point of it? As long as I have the Common Sense Hijack System..."
Leaning back against the cracked wall, his lips curled into a thin smile.
"As long as this system sticks with me, everyone’s just a pawn. Wealth? Power? Only a matter of time."
But then, a flicker of curiosity crept into his thoughts. His eyes lifted to the pale blue sky above.
"Traveler..." he whispered softly. "Are you still here on this earth? Or... did you bail, leaving me to deal with all this chaos alone?"
[Ding!]
[Information cannot be provided.]
The mechanical voice chimed instantly, cold and without emotion.
Caleb froze for a moment—then let out a short, sharp laugh.
Caleb rose to his feet, his body stiff after sitting too long. He stretched his arms high overhead, his back cracking softly as the breath drained out of him.
"Hmmm..." he muttered, tilting his head toward the bustling street visible through the gaps of the rooftop. "Where should I run this quest...?"
He moved slowly toward the stairwell, pausing when his eyes caught a small crowd at the far end of the road. Some were haggling, voices sharp, others just rushing past. Caleb’s lips curved into a thin smile.
"Oh... there," he whispered. "That might be fun."
He descended from the loft, his worn shoes squeaking against the dusty steps. By the time he reached the ground floor, he stopped in front of the rusted door. His smile spread wider.
Lifting his hand, he flexed his fingers open one by one. Crack—crack—crack! His joints popped sharply, slicing through the silence of the abandoned building.
"Better prepare the prompt..." Caleb whispered, almost like a spell.