Aside from "picking up a stunning beauty," Kiriya's luck could only be described as downright abysmal today.
Early in the morning, he received a cold and heartless call from his company: "You're fired."
His hand trembled, and with a plop, his phone slipped from his grip and fell straight into the river. Before he could recover from the blow of reality, another heavy hit struck him—
He went to the bank to withdraw money for rent, only to find his wallet had been stolen on the way, and his bank card got swallowed by the ATM. That was half a month's rent, gone just like that!
Penniless and starving, Kiriya dragged his feet back toward the small apartment complex he was renting, each step heavier than the last.
As he arrived downstairs, he noticed a brand-new BMW parked quietly in front of the building entrance—completely out of place in this old, run-down neighborhood.
As he got closer, he could vaguely see through the car window—a girl was slumped over the steering wheel, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if she were crying.
Kiriya paused, stunned for a moment, but didn't approach. He didn't even have food to eat; how could he possibly spare the energy to meddle in someone else's troubles?
As he continued walking into the complex, his eyes suddenly caught sight of a small patch of lush green vegetables near the flower bed.
"Heaven doesn't shut all doors…" Kiriya muttered under his breath. Someone in the neighborhood had taken to growing their food, self-sufficient and industrious.
Without hesitation, he crouched down and picked the freshest-looking baby Bok choy, giving it a little shake to dust off the spring soil. "Boil it into some congee… at least I won't starve."
He rented a single-room apartment on the top floor of one of the old buildings. It had one bedroom, a living area, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. The place wasn't big, but it was clean, independent, had hot water, and even a little balcony that gave it a touch of life. The rent was cheap and decently priced—one of the few things that still brought him a sense of happiness.
At first, he thought the rent was so low because of ghost rumors. Later, he found out it was just an awkward corner unit on the top floor—freezing in winter, scorching in summer, and hardly anyone wanted to live there.
But for Kiriya, having a roof over his head and a kitchen to cook hot meals was already more than enough.
He walked inside, washed the vegetables, and tossed them into the pot, letting it slowly simmer. As the water began to boil, the faint scent of food finally filled the room—and with it, a small taste of life.
In the kitchen, the millet porridge had already begun to bubble and boil, its warm aroma slowly wafting through the air.
Kiriya returned to his room and powered on his old computer. As soon as the screen lit up, nearly every webpage refreshed with the same explosive headline—
"[Eternal Art Online] to Officially Launch Tomorrow at 6 PM!"
The entire internet erupted. Game forums, social media—every corner of the web was buzzing with excitement over this "revolutionary" virtual reality game. Rumor had it that its release would single-handedly revive the struggling VR gaming market. A true nuclear-level product.
Kiriya had mixed feelings.
Of course, he'd heard of [EAO]. He was well aware of the game's massive investment and the mind-blowing "Mind Gear" neural-link device behind it.
Unfortunately, he couldn't afford it.
Though he had managed to scrape together enough money to install a dedicated high-speed gaming line—one with enterprise-level bandwidth—the cost of a single "Mind Gear" still kept it well out of reach. Most likely, when the servers opened, he'd be stuck watching others enjoy the game from the sidelines, scrolling through forums.
As he sat there staring blankly at the screen, fate suddenly threw him into another unexpected twist, like something out of a scripted drama.
Who could've guessed that just an hour later, he'd end up playing the hero, rescuing the same crying girl who had been slumped over the BMW downstairs?
But what he didn't expect… was that his good deed would get him locked out—left standing helplessly in his living room.
And to make matters even more outrageous, the luggage the "damsel in distress" had left in the living room included a… "Mind Gear".
Kiriya was floored.
This was the legendary neural-link device for [EAO]?
Wasn't it supposed to launch nationwide tomorrow morning? How on earth did she already have one?!
He crouched by the door, stunned and suspicious.
That girl, now fast asleep on his bed—who exactly was she?
An official early-access tester for [EAO]?
Or some rich heiress living life on cheat mode?
Just then, a crisp and pleasant ringtone broke the stillness of the night.
Kiriya looked toward the sound. The girl's bag was lying in the corner of the sofa, with her phone and car keys resting quietly inside.
The screen lit up, and a contact name appeared clearly—"Sis."
He raised an eyebrow slightly and reached out to pick up the phone.
If it were her sister, that would save him a lot of trouble. He genuinely hoped to send this unexpected "guest" back safely as soon as possible.
Sure, he had once quietly wished to meet a kind and beautiful girl… but he hadn't imagined she'd show up with a "Mind Gear" and proceed to take over his room in the process.
He answered the call.
"Hello? Lina, where are you? Why haven't you come home yet?"
The voice on the other end was gentle, though tinged with urgency.
Kiriya gave a brief reply. "Are you her sister?"
The caller's tone shifted immediately, sharp and guarded. "Who are you? Where's Lina? What have you done to her?"
Kiriya didn't bother defending himself. His voice remained calm.
"She's fine. I saw her sitting alone in her car outside the apartment complex. She didn't seem to be in a good state. I brought her inside—she's resting now."
There was a moment of silence on the other end before the woman's tone grew even more forceful. "Who exactly are you? Why is she in your room?"
Kiriya glanced toward the tightly closed door, his tone still level.
"My name's Kiriya. I live in this building. She was by herself, and something was wrong. Waiting for the police would've taken too long, so I made a judgment call and handled it."
The caller went quiet for a few seconds, as if trying to assess whether he was telling the truth. Then her voice turned cold:
"Address."
Kiriya was just about to give it when—suddenly, the phone screen flickered—
"Low Battery…"
Beep—
The call dropped.
Kiriya looked down at the now-black screen, his expression unreadable. He gently set the phone down.
Leaning back on the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling and murmured to himself,
"…Well, this plot development is on hard mode."