Chapter 2 — System Online
The second time I woke up in the hospital, it felt less dramatic than the first. No alarms blaring, no nurses yelling my name, no sensation of being hauled back from the brink. Just the uncomfortable realization that I was awake in a place that smelled like bleach, plastic, and whatever they used to sterilize broken ribs.
Sunlight broke through the half-closed blinds, striping the room with pale gold. My eyes stung. My mouth tasted like cotton. My ribs felt like somebody had replaced them with rebar and then politely hit them with a truck—again.
I groaned quietly and sank deeper into the stiff mattress, unsure if I was ready to exist yet.
A soft electronic beep beside me kept time like an impatient metronome. Heart monitor. Oxygen pump. IV drip. All the greatest hits of "You Shouldn't Be Alive: Hospital Edition."
For a moment, I lay still and tried to accept the fact that I was, technically, still breathing. Barely.
Good job, body, I thought. You failed spectacularly but at least you rebooted.
I didn't remember much beyond the headlights, the scream, Ava's silhouette, the sudden weightlessness, and then—
Nothing.
Like vanishing into a blank screen.
I licked my dry lips and forced myself to sit up a little. Pain lanced through my chest, sharp enough that I nearly blacked out again. My vision dimmed, then slowly returned.
That was when I saw it.
Not the nurse.
Not the machine.
Not the door.
Floating—yes, floating—in front of me, about a foot from my eyes, was a thin, translucent panel of soft blue light. A rectangle of text, clean and crisp like something pulled from a minimalist app.
I blinked hard.
It stayed.
"…Huh?"
The text shifted with a faint ripple, almost like water.
[System Reboot Complete][
User Identified — ETHAN L. RIVERS]
[Vital Signs Stabilized]
[Cognitive Activity: Active]
I stared at it.
It stared back.
Or rather, it hovered with the detached, bureaucratic patience of a loading screen.
"Okay," I whispered hoarsely. "Either I hit my head really hard or someone laced my IV with Adderall."
The next lines appeared smoothly, unbothered by my existential crisis.
[Welcome, Ethan]
[Your Life Optimization System Is Now Online]
"Life optimization?" I croaked. "I barely optimized standing up."
The panel dissolved, only to reassemble into something new.
[A Major Life Event Has Been Detected][Initiating First Quest Protocol..]
My pulse spiked. The monitor beeped faster, tattling on me. The system seemed pleased—if cool blue words could feel anything.
I waited, breath held, like someone opening a test score they didn't remember taking.
Then:
[MAIN QUEST INITIATED][DATING PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]
[FIRST QUEST INITIATED]
Build a Genuine Connection
Step 1: Share 3 meaningful conversations.
Reward: (+3 Confidence) (+5 Charm)
"What—meaningful what?"
The words shimmered, then slid away as something else appeared.
[Daily Quest Unlocked]
Offer 1 sincere compliment today.
Reward: (+ "Soulful Gaze" )
He groaned and pressed a palm against his chest. Every breath felt like his lungs were wrapped in barbed wire. A monitor beside him chirped, the heart-rate line spiking.
A nurse appeared, brisk and calm."Good morning, Mr. Rivers. How are we feeling?"
"Like a speed bump," he rasped.
She smiled politely, adjusting his IV drip. "You gave us quite the scare. You were technically dead for forty-five seconds." She said it with the same tone someone might use to comment on the weather.
"Forty-five?" He blinked. "So, not even a full minute. That's disappointing."
The nurse chuckled. "Lucky, actually. You came back before we even finished the first round of CPR."
Lucky.He wasn't sure he liked that word.
As she checked the monitors, Ethan caught a flicker at the edge of his vision—like sunlight bouncing off glass. He turned his head, but nothing was there.
"Any dizziness?" she asked.
"Only existential."
She wrote something on her clipboard, clearly used to sarcasm. "The doctor will check on you soon. Try to rest."
He muttered something about rage-quitting bodies and watched her leave, the room filling again with the sterile scent of disinfectant.
The moment the door shut, the flicker returned—clearer this time. The air shimmered like heat above asphalt, and then a translucent blue rectangle unfolded in front of him.
Ethan stared at the glowing panel, utterly lost.
He wasn't sure what was happening.He knew what a "system" was—he'd seen them in games, novels, memes—but why did he have one?
The nurse had just told him his heart had stopped.
He had died for forty-five seconds.
And instead of seeing God, he got… a productivity app?
"Is this what happens when you fail at life?" he muttered. "You get a second chance but someone installs a romantic side-quest system in your brain?"
Before I could mentally uninstall it, the door creaked open.
A soft knock sounded, and then the door opened.
Ava Monroe stepped inside.
My heart monitor betrayed me instantly, chirping faster. She froze for half a second, startled by the noise—then her expression melted into a relieved smile so bright it somehow hurt more than my ribs.
"You're awake," she breathed, stepping closer. "You're really… okay."
"Hey," I croaked. My voice sounded like gravel dragged over pavement. "Still alive. Mostly."
She let out a small, breathless laugh that cut straight through the sterile hospital air. "I was worried. You scared me so badly… you have no idea."
She moved to the foot of the bed, hesitated, then slowly sat on the edge. Her hair was messier today—soft strands falling around her face—and her eyes were tired in a way the polished, camera-ready version of her never showed. For the first time, she didn't look like Westbridge's golden girl.
She looked human.Real.
"They said you saved me," she said quietly. "I didn't even see the truck coming."
"Yeah," I murmured, voice cracking a little. "I noticed."
Another soft laugh. Nervous, shaky, but real.
She reached out without seeming to realize it, fingers gently brushing my hair back from my forehead. Her touch was warm and careful, like I might break if she pressed too hard.
"You—um—you stopped breathing for a while," she whispered. "Doctors said you were… dead. Twice."
"Twice?" I grimaced. "Wow. Overachiever."
A flash of panic tightened her expression. "Don't joke about that."
I softened immediately. "Okay, okay. Sorry."
Her eyes dropped to my bandaged ribs, her voice small and strained. "You pushed me out of the way. You shouldn't have—"
"I should've," I cut in. "And I would again."
She blinked at that—stunned, caught off guard.
The system stayed silent… then a faint notification shimmered at the edge of my vision.
[Daily Quest Opportunity Detected]
Right.The daily quest.A sincere compliment.
My brain scrambled. Compliments had never been my strong suit, especially not when she was this close, especially not when her hand was still resting on my shoulder like she was anchoring me to the world.
But the sincerity came easier than I expected.
"I'm glad you're alright... Really... and besides, you came back," I said quietly. "That means something."
She froze.
Her lips parted slightly, breath catching. Something warm flickered in her eyes—genuine, unfiltered emotion.
"Ethan…"
Her thumb brushed lightly against a bruise on my shoulder, so gentle it nearly undid me.
"That's… " she whispered, voice trembling just enough for me to hear the truth behind it.
I tried to smile, but my ribs protested. Didn't matter. She was already looking at me like the room had shifted a little.
And the system glowed softly, confirming it.
[Daily Quest Completed]
Reward Granted: "Soulful Gaze" — Your eyes reflect sincerity with greater clarity. Others may respond more warmly.
A faint warmth rippled behind my eyes—subtle, like the soft focus of a camera adjusting. Ava blinked once, twice, her gaze lingering on mine longer than before.
She tilted her head, confused."Wha…?"
But before she could finish the thought, she swallowed it and gave a small smile instead—gentle, careful, lingering.
I didn't understand the reward fully, but a warm flutter went through my chest—not dramatic, not magical. More like the feeling of someone telling you you're doing something right.
Ava didn't seem to notice anything to suspect, too focused on studying my face like she was piecing together a puzzle.
"I—I just didn't want you alone," she said quietly. "Not after everything."
Her voice cracked slightly, and she immediately tried to hide it.
"So," I said, gently teasing, "this is just guilt visiting me... or are you just flattered my heart stopped twice for you?"
She let out a shaky laugh. "Shut up. And don't move—your ribs!"
"Ow—yeah, okay, I'll shut up."
She settled back in her chair, hands still trembling faintly. I pretended not to notice. She pretended not to notice that I noticed.
Minutes stretched into a warm, strange quiet. It felt peaceful, no exceptions, no pressure.
"So…" I ventured, "you're really here."
"I'm really here," she said. "You saved my life. The least I can do is make sure you don't get bored to death in a hospital bed."
I grinned weakly. "Well, that's already less boring than dying to a van."
Another crack of laughter. More natural this time.
She pulled out her phone and started talking—about the campus buzz, the driver fainting, the drama of people claiming they knew "Ethan Rivers the hero." She rolled her eyes, animated again, the exhaustion melting into genuine expression.
The conversation flowed easily.
She told me she hated being treated like an influencer instead of a person.
I told her hospital mashed potatoes should be classified as a crime.
We traded small jokes. Soft confessions. Real stories.
And then—
A subtle shimmer crossed my vision.
[Main Quest Progress: 1 / 3 Conversations Completed]
I hadn't even realized the last 30 minutes passed by.
She leaned forward, voice dropping. "Can I be real with you?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'd never want you to be anything but real."
"..I don't know if I deserved to be saved," she whispered. "I keep thinking about that moment. If I had just… been paying attention…"
"You didn't deserve to be hit by a van either," I replied cutting her off. "It wasn't a morality test. It was just… bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time."
Her breath hitched. She looked at me like I'd reached into her chest and untangled something knotted.
"Look, the whole situation was crazy, and you have nothing to blame, I take full responsibility for my actions."
When she spoke again, it was barely audible."Thank you."
We fell into another stretch of quiet, heavy but warm.
A second shimmer appeared.
[Main Quest Progress: 2 / 3 Conversations Completed]
Two deep conversations in one visit. It didn't feel like a quest. It felt… natural. Real.
Ava glanced at the clock and winced. "I should… probably head out soon."
"Already?" The disappointment in my voice was embarrassingly obvious.
She smiled. "I'll come back. Tomorrow. I promise."
Before she stood fully, she hesitated. Then, with surprising softness, she reached out and brushed my hair back from my forehead, fingers lingering for a second.
"I'm really glad you're okay," she whispered.
For a moment, the room felt smaller. Quieter. Intimate in a way I hadn't prepared for.
Then she stepped back, grabbed her bag, and paused at the door.
"Goodnight, Ethan."
"Night," I said, heart beating too fast.
The door clicked. The room grew cold without her in it.
I exhaled slowly and leaned back against the pillow.
And it all felt…
Good.
Not forced.Not fake.Not manipulative.
Just… guiding. Nudging. Supporting.
Helping me become someone I didn't hate.
I closed my eyes.
A small thought flickered through my mind before sleep pulled me under.
Maybe almost dying wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me.