The smell of stale instant noodles and despair was a physical thing in the tiny, single-room apartment. Leo stared at the peeling ceiling, counting the water stains for the thousandth time. His phone, face-up on the stained mattress, was a black mirror of his failure. Final notice texts from the bank. A last, pleading email from his now-ex-landlord. The numbers in his bank app were a joke: $47.82.
Three years. Three years of grinding, of 18-hour days, of "sure-thing" startups and "can't-miss" investment tips. Three years of watching every dream curdle into debt. He was twenty-four, and he was a fossil, buried under the cold, hard sediment of economic reality.
A sharp, electric pain lanced through his temple. It wasn't the first today. It felt like a wire snapping behind his eye.
{Host mental stress threshold breached. Suitability confirmed.}
Leo sat bolt upright. The voice wasn't in his ears. It was inside his skull, crisp, digital, and utterly devoid of emotion. He looked around the empty room, heart hammering against his ribs.
{The 'Reverse Profit System' is binding.}
A shimmering, blue-tinted screen materialized in the center of his vision. It was transparent, layered over the sight of his grimy window. Words etched themselves onto it.
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE.
USER: Leo Vance
STATUS: Financially Insolvent. Spiritually Bankrupt. Ideal Candidate.
CORE PRINCIPLE: Profit is Loss. Loss is Profit.
OBJECTIVE: Lose money through legitimate business ventures.
CONVERSION RATE: $100,000 Lost = 1 System Point (SP).
Leo blinked. He rubbed his eyes. The screen remained. "What… what is this? A stress hallucination?"
{Clarification: This is not a hallucination. This is your sole opportunity for survival.}
Another line of text appeared.
INITIAL ASSESSMENT: Host liquid assets: $47.82. Insufficient for operational commencement. System is issuing a one-time Seed Loan.}
A notification pinged.
ALERT: $500,000.00 has been deposited into your primary account. Source: Valhalla Venture Capital (Shell).
Leo's phone vibrated. He snatched it up, fingers trembling. He opened his banking app. He refreshed it. Once. Twice.
The balance was $500,047.82.
His breath hitched. Half a million dollars. Just… there.
{Loan Terms: Non-negotiable. 30-day repayment window. Failure to repay in full: System reclamation of assets, including biological.}
"Biological… you mean my life?"
{Interpretation is correct.}
"And to repay it… I have to lose it? In business?"
{Primary Directive: Lose capital through legally sound commercial endeavors. The more you lose, the more System Points you earn. Points may be exchanged for Attributes (Health, Charm, Intelligence), Skills, and legitimate, untraceable currency.}
{Warning: Generating profit will incur Point penalties. Sustained profit generation will result in progressive biological degradation.}
A flowchart appeared. Lose Money → Gain SP → Buy Skills/Health/Cash. Make Money → Lose SP → Sicken, Weaken, Die.
It was insane. It was a sick joke from the universe. But the number on his phone was real. The pain in his temple was real. The eviction was real.
"So I… I have to be a bad businessman. On purpose."
{You must endeavor to fail. Spectacularly. The System will evaluate the legitimacy of your loss attempts. Intentional fraud, donation, or destruction of capital is prohibited. You must try, in good faith, to run a failing business.}
A hysterical laugh bubbled in Leo's chest. After spending three years trying so hard to succeed, and failing… his only path to survival was to try to fail. The irony was so thick he could taste it, metallic and bitter.
{First Mission: 'The Opening Gambit.'}
Objective: Lose the entire $500,000 seed capital within 30 days.
Success Reward: 5 SP. Loan considered repaid.
Failure: Reclamation.
Additional Parameter: To facilitate loss, you must adopt a managerial persona conducive to poor decision-making. Arrogance. Disregard for market research. Contempt for wise counsel.}
"You want me to be a jerk."
{We require you to be a catalyst for financial ruin. Your persona is the tool.}
He looked at the money. He looked at the mold in the corner of his room. He thought about the bank taking his corpse. What choice did he have?
"Okay," Leo whispered, the word scraping his throat raw. "Okay. How do I start?"
{Analysis of local commercial landscape complete. Identifying high-failure-potential ventures…}
A list appeared. Dozens of business listings in the city of Nova Haven—a teeming, vertical metropolis of glass, steel, and desperate ambition.
One entry pulsed with a soft, red glow.
PROSPECT: 'Pixel Haven' – Retro Arcade & Bar.
LOCATION: Lower Fulton District (Declining foot traffic).
CURRENT STATUS: Owner retiring. Liquidation sale of assets (outdated CRT cabinets, 20-year-old games).
ASKING PRICE (Business + 6mo Lease): $485,000.
SYSTEM FAILURE PROBABILITY ASSESSMENT: 94.7%.
RATIONALE: Nostalgia market is niche. Physical media is dead. Location is poor. Concept is economically non-viable. Perfect.
An arcade. In the age of hyper-immersive neural-link VR and holographic stadiums. He'd be buying a museum of failure.
A savage, desperate hope ignited in his gut. This could work. He could actually lose this money.
"I'll take it," Leo said.
{Initiating acquisition protocol.}
His phone buzzed again. An email auto-generated itself, making an offer at full asking price, cash, immediate close. All he had to do was e-sign.
He did it. His finger shook over the screen. This was it. The point of no return.
He stood up, his body feeling both lighter and heavier. He had half a million dollars. He had to throw it all away. He had to be a tyrant.
He walked to the cracked mirror above the sink. The man staring back was pale, with dark circles under haunted eyes. "You're not Leo Vance, failed entrepreneur," he told his reflection, voice low. "You're Leo Vance… the idiot who bought a dying arcade."
He tried to summon arrogance. He tried to look like a man who burned money for warmth. He just looked tired.
His phone rang. An unknown number. He answered.
"Mr. Vance? This is Chen, from the building management. About your… imminent eviction." The old superintendent's voice was apologetic.
Leo closed his eyes. He thought of the System's parameter. Arrogance. Contempt.
He channeled every memory of every smug, rich "young master" who'd ever looked down on him. He put it all into his voice.
"Cancel it," Leo said, his tone flat, cold, dripping with a dismissiveness he didn't feel. "The matter is beneath me. In fact, I'm vacating this dump today. Send the final bill to my assistant."
He hung up before old man Chen could respond. He leaned against the wall, his heart pounding. He felt sick. He'd never spoken to anyone like that, especially not to Mr. Chen, who'd sometimes slipped him extra packets of noodles.
But it worked. The System pinged.
{Persona Protocol: Activated. +0.1 SP (Behavioral Compliance Bonus).}
He got 0.1 points for being a dick. He almost laughed. He almost cried.
He packed a single bag. He took one last look at the room that had been his tomb. Then he walked out, the System screen a constant companion in his vision. He had a mission. He had to go lose a fortune.
He hailed a taxi—a luxury he hadn't allowed himself in years. "The Fulton District," he said, sinking into the worn leather seat. "The worst part."
As the city blurred past, his phone buzzed. Another email. The seller had accepted. Pixel Haven was his.
And then, a news alert popped up.
NOVA HAVEN HERALD: City Council Announces 'Urban Renewal & Nostalgia Drive' for Lower Fulton District. Tax Breaks, Infrastructure Grants Approved for 'Character Businesses'…
Leo's blood ran cold.
{Alert: External market variable detected.}
{Recalculating Failure Probability for 'Pixel Haven'…}
{New Assessment: 81.3%. Failure probability decreased by 13.4%.}
"No," Leo breathed. "No, no, no."
The taxi driver glanced in the mirror. "You okay, boss?"
Leo didn't answer. He stared out the window at the gleaming, monstrous city.
He had tried to make his first, worst, and only choice.
And the world, for the first time in his life, seemed to be bending over backwards to help him succeed.