The familiar gray Toyota slid into a parking space at the entrance of Jounan High School. Outside the car's bubble of silence, the morning was a chaotic symphony of chirping birds, distant traffic, and the chatter of hundreds of students. Inside, the only sound was the frantic drumming of Samantha's own heart.
The campus looked aggressively normal. Students in their crisp Jounan uniforms—navy blue blazers over white shirts, boys in slacks, girls in pleated skirts—flowed through the imposing main gate. Some moved like zombies, clearly not morning people, while others clustered in vibrant, laughing groups. Sakura trees, their blossoms long gone and replaced by lush green leaves, lined the main walkway, their branches swaying in the gentle breeze.
It was a perfect, ordinary Monday morning.
And yet, somewhere in the ether, a mission prompt titled [Save Your Older Brother] hung over Samantha's head like a guillotine. The absurd contrast made her stomach churn. She scanned the crowd, a frantic part of her brain half-expecting a runaway truck to careen through the gates or a shadowy assassin to emerge from behind a camphor tree.
Nothing. Just teenagers, backpacks, and the mundane start to another week.
"Alright, you two," her mother said, turning in the driver's seat. Her voice had the gentle authority that could command armies. "Have a good day. Don't forget your bentos." She then fixed Ren with a look that was pure, undiluted Mom-power. "And Ren, you keep an eye on your sister."
Ren let out a long-suffering sigh, the universal sound of a teenager being parented. "I always do, Kaa-san. It's practically my part-time job."
"I don't need a babysitter," Samantha muttered reflexively, the words tasting like old habit.
Her mother's gaze flickered to her in the rearview mirror, her expression softening but still firm. "Sami-chan, just… no overdoing it. Please. If you feel tired, go to the nurse's office immediately."
"I'm not made of glass anymore, Mom," she protested, a bit more heat in her voice than she intended.
"You are until you graduate," Elena countered, but a small smile betrayed her playful tone. With a final wave, she pulled out of the parking space, the familiar Toyota disappearing into the flow of traffic.
They were left standing on the pavement, the iconic Jounan High School gate looming before them like the entrance to an arena. Samantha adjusted the strap of her leather school bag, the familiar weight of textbooks doing little to ground her. She turned to Ren. He was already engrossed in his phone, thumbs flying across the screen, utterly, blissfully unaware that he was the star of her own personal horror movie.
The fear from the car ride coiled in her gut, a cold snake of dread. She had to say something.
"Hey, um…" she started, her voice sounding unnaturally high. "Be careful today, okay?"
Ren blinked up from his phone, his usual cool expression replaced by one of genuine confusion. "Huh? What brought this on?"
"I don't know, just…" She floundered, searching for a plausible reason. "Don't, like… run in the halls, or take the stairs two at a time. Or get into a fight with some third-year delinquents."
He raised an elegant eyebrow, a hint of suspicion glinting in his sharp eyes. "I go to class and the student council room, Sam, not a back-alley turf war. What's gotten into you? You're being even weirder than yesterday."
"Nothing!" she said, a little too quickly. "Just being a good, concerned little sister." She forced a shrug, trying to project an air of nonchalance. "Still. Can't hurt to be careful."
The intensity in her voice made him pause. His gaze sharpened, studying her face, and for a terrifying moment, she thought he was going to see right through her—right through to the panic, the System, the whole insane truth.
But then, his expression softened into a familiar, teasing smirk. He reached out and ruffled her hair, a fond, patronizing gesture he hadn't used since she was twelve.
"I'll be fine, pipsqueak," he reassured her, his voice warm with amusement. "I'm always careful." He leaned in a little, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Frankly, I'm more worried about you. You've been acting like you have a massive, world-altering secret since Saturday."
His casual accuracy sent a jolt of ice through her veins. She batted his hand away, manufacturing a glare to mask the guilt and fear twisting inside her. "Ugh. Whatever. Just go before you're late."
Ren chuckled, that easy, confident sound that always made her feel both annoyed and safe. He turned and headed toward the senior building, his tall frame effortlessly melting into the sea of students.
She watched him go, her gaze fixed on his retreating back until he was gone from sight.
PING!
The system notification flashed into view with an obnoxious cheerfulness, shattering her anxious trance.
[New Missions Unlocked!]
Samantha closed her eyes for a brief second. Oh, for the love of…
[Daily Mission: Enter the School Grounds] → [Reward: Skill - 'Eidetic Memory']
[Daily Mission: Treat Your Best Friend to a Snack] → [Reward: ???]
"…Mochi."
The spectral dumpling popped into existence beside her, its huge blue eyes curved into happy crescents. "Yes, my star pupil? Your humble guide is here to assist you on this fine morning!"
Her eye twitched. "Are you seriously giving me a quest that I can complete by taking five steps forward? Is this the System's idea of a joke?"
"Hey, even the greatest journeys begin with a single step!" Mochi declared, doing a philosophical-looking loop in the air. "Besides, the reward is totally broken! Eidetic Memory? That's an S-Tier skill for a student! You should be on your knees, weeping with gratitude!"
Samantha rubbed her temples, a familiar headache starting to brew behind her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Before I do that, show me my stats. I want to know exactly what yesterday's torture session actually bought me."
"As you command!" Mochi hummed, and the familiar blue interface materialized before her, displaying a simplified overview.
[Host: Samantha Kisaragi]
[Level: 2]
[Strength: D- (Average Human Female)]
[Endurance: C (Athletic Human Female)]
[Agility: E+ (Slightly Clumsy)]
[Charisma: E (Existing)]
[Intelligence: E (Baseline)]
She frowned, scanning the data. "'D-rank Strength'? That's it? After all that, I'm just… average?"
Mochi floated down and patted her shoulder with a tiny, surprisingly solid hand. "Hey, progress is progress! Do you have any idea what your rank was before?"
"What, like, an F?"
"Sam, you were a 'G,'" Mochi said with brutal honesty. "You were basically a wet paper napkin. A strong sneeze could have been a critical hit. Going from that to 'average' in one day is a monumental leap! You've officially entered the food chain!"
A mixture of indignation and horrified self-realization washed over her. A wet paper napkin… She had known she was weak, but hearing it quantified like that was profoundly demoralizing. "Great. So I'm no longer killable by a mild breeze. Fantastic."
"Welcome to the grind, contractor," Mochi snickered. "RPG progression is a marathon, not a sprint."
With a long, weary sigh, Samantha gave up and stepped forward, crossing the official threshold of the Jounan High School gate. She walked past the row of shoe lockers, the scent of leather and floor polish filling the air, and moved toward the main courtyard.
TING!
[Daily Mission Complete: Enter the School Grounds]
[Reward Acquired: Skill - 'Eidetic Memory']
The moment the notification faded, the world detonated.
It wasn't a sound or a light. It was an instantaneous, overwhelming flood of pure information. A switch flipped in her brain, and the mundane courtyard transformed into a high-definition, data-rich environment.
She could see the exact number of cracks in the paving stone ten feet away (seventeen, three of which branched). She could read the tiny, scuffed-off brand name on a boy's shoe as he walked past (Asics). She could hear, with perfect clarity, three different conversations at once—a girl complaining about a pop quiz in calculus, two boys debating the stats of a new gacha game character, and a teacher scolding a student for an untucked shirt fifty feet away. She could see the intricate pattern of veins on a single green leaf on the nearest tree, the minuscule tremor of a spiderweb strung between two branches, the way the light reflected off a thousand individual windows.
It was everything. All at once.
"Whoa," she whispered, touching her temple. A wave of vertigo washed over her. "This is… a lot. It's like my brain's RAM just got upgraded by a factor of a thousand."
"Congratulations!" Mochi beamed, zipping around her in a celebratory spiral. "You are now a walking supercomputer! A living database! Knowledge is power, and you just hit the jackpot!"
Before she could process the full implications of her new, terrifyingly sharp reality, a loud, familiar voice sliced through the data-storm.
"SAM-CHAAAAN~!"
A blur of motion from behind, a flash of brown hair, the scent of strawberry-scented shampoo—
WHUMP.
A body collided with hers, wrapping her in an embrace with the force of a small, friendly missile. Samantha staggered forward, her newfound agility stats doing absolutely nothing to prepare her for the attack.
"Gah—!"
"Good moooorning!" Suzuki Liza chirped, clinging to her back like a cheerful koala. Her energy was, as always, dialed up to eleven.
"Liza, please," Samantha groaned, prying her friend's arms off. "One of these days, you're going to give me a concussion."
Liza bounced on the balls of her feet, her twin pigtails swaying. Her eyes, big and brown and full of life, sparkled. "But it's our traditional greeting! And I missed you over the weekend!"
"We spent six hours on Discord yesterday."
"That was ages ago!" Liza declared dramatically.
Samantha shook her head, a genuine smile tugging at her lips for the first time that morning. "You're impossible."
Liza beamed, linking her arm with Samantha's. "But you love me for it."
Before she could reply, her system pinged with a gentle, insistent chime.
[Daily Mission Reminder: Treat Your Best Friend to a Snack]
Right. The quest.
"Hey," Samantha said, pulling her friend toward the school's small convenience store. "Want a melon pan or something? My treat."
Liza gasped, her eyes widening in theatrical shock. "You? Treating me? Is this a dream? Am I about to wake up? Did you hit your head?"
"Don't make it weird," Samantha sighed, her smile growing wider.
"I make no promises!" Liza said, already dragging her toward the baked goods aisle. "To the melon pan! Let's go