A persistent, rhythmic beeping pulled Alex from a deep, dreamless void. He blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light. The ceiling was a sterile white, and the air smelled of antiseptic. He was in a bed, thin sheets tucked around him, an IV drip taped to the back of his hand. A hospital.
What happened? he thought, his mind fuzzy. The memories came back in a painful rush: the gray sky, the rain, the little girl's red ball, the screech of tires, the blinding pain.
[Host has regained consciousness. System fully integrated.]
The voice was not a sound, but a thought placed directly inside his head. It was calm, neutral, and unnervingly clear.
"Who's there?" Alex whispered, his throat raspy.
[I am the Superstar System. My purpose is to facilitate your journey to becoming the greatest star the world has ever known. Through me, you can learn, master, and perform all artistic and creative endeavors.]
Alex stared at the ceiling, wondering if the car accident had given him permanent brain damage. A superstar? Him? The guy who got kicked out of art school for having no soul? He would have laughed if it didn't hurt to breathe.
Just then, a doctor with kind eyes and a tired smile entered the room, looking at a clipboard. "Ah, Mr. Parker. Good to see you awake. You gave us quite a scare."
"What... what happened to me?" Alex asked.
"You were hit by a car. A few broken ribs, a concussion, and some serious bruising. But honestly," the doctor said, shining a small light in Alex's eyes, "you're lucky to be alive. Not just that, your recovery is remarkable. Your vitals are stronger than we expected, and your healing rate is... well, it's impressive."
[System has initiated accelerated physical recovery to ensure host's operational status. Energy reserves depleted. Please complete tasks to earn points.]
Alex ignored the voice, focusing on the doctor. "How long do I have to stay here? I... I don't have insurance." The dread of a massive medical bill was almost as painful as his ribs.
The doctor smiled warmly. "You don't have to worry about that. The mother of the little girl you saved... she's taken care of everything. All of it." He checked his chart again. "If you keep recovering like this, you could be out of here by tomorrow."
Alex felt a wave of relief so powerful it almost made him dizzy. Someone had helped him. A complete stranger. The thought was so foreign after the betrayals of the last few days.
Later that day, just as he was drifting into a light sleep, the door creaked open. Maya stood there, holding a small bouquet of cheap carnations. She looked tired, and her eyes were puffy.
"Alex," she said softly. "I heard what happened. I came as soon as I could."
She placed the flowers on the bedside table. For a moment, seeing her there, looking so concerned, Alex felt a flicker of the old affection. Maybe he had been too harsh in his judgment.
"You came," he said, his voice flat.
"Of course, I did. I was so worried." She reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled it away. Her face fell.
"Were you worried yesterday?" Alex asked, his voice gaining a hard edge. "Were you worried when you stood there and told the Dean I had 'financial problems' right after I was accused of being a thief?"
Maya flinched. "That's not fair, Alex. I was put in a terrible position. What was I supposed to say?"
"The truth!" he shot back, his voice cracking. "You could have said you knew me. You could have said I wasn't a thief. You lived with me for a year, Maya! Have you ever, for one second, thought I was capable of stealing anything?"
"Things have been different lately!" Her remorseful tone vanished, replaced by a sharp defensiveness. "You've been so stressed, so angry about everything. How was I supposed to know what you were capable of? You hate Victor, you hate the school..."
"I hate Victor because you're cheating on me with him!" The words tumbled out, raw and painful. "Don't pretend this is about me being 'stressed'. I saw you at the restaurant. You looked right through me like I was nothing."
"Oh, so this is my fault now?" she scoffed, her voice rising. "Maybe if you weren't so busy failing, I wouldn't have had to look for someone who is actually going somewhere in life! Someone who isn't going to be a struggling waiter forever!"
"I worked that job for us! To buy you things! To try and give you a good life!"
"I don't want that life!" she yelled. "I don't want to struggle anymore! And I certainly don't want to be with someone who gets himself expelled for stealing!"
"I didn't steal it!"
"The Dean seemed to think you did!" She tossed her hands up in exasperation. "You know what? I can't do this anymore. We're done, Alex."
She said it with such finality, such coldness. There was no sadness in her eyes anymore, only disdain. She turned and walked out of the room without looking back, leaving the scent of cheap flowers and the wreckage of his heart behind. Alex stared at the door, the physical pain in his ribs dulling in comparison to the gaping wound she had just torn open in his chest.
That evening, as the hospital quieted down, the System's voice returned.
[Emotional state of host is highly volatile. Recommend stabilization.]
"Just leave me alone," Alex muttered to the empty room.
[That is not conducive to achieving our primary goal. To become a superstar, you must understand the rules of the System. Daily tasks must be completed to earn points. Quests, both hidden and visible, will also grant points upon completion.]
A blue screen materialized in front of him.
[Daily Task]
* Objective: Practice vocal resonance for 10 minutes.
* Reward: 5 points.
[Hidden quests are missions that are revealed only after the host has unknowingly completed them. Visible quests will be offered based on opportunities that arise. Points can be used to level up existing skills or acquire new ones within the artistic and creative domain. Note: The System provides the framework for learning and mastery. It does not provide external aid, such as access to information about individuals, financial resources, or direct communication with outside parties.]
The screen faded. It was a bizarre glimmer of structure in the chaos of his life. A game. A very, very strange game.
The next morning, a woman with a kind face and a sharp, well-tailored suit knocked softly on his door.
"Mr. Parker? I'm Lilian Miller. My daughter... you saved her."
Alex sat up, surprised. "Please, just Alex. And you didn't have to... paying the bills was more than enough."
"It was the absolute least I could do," she said, her voice warm but firm. "My daughter, Chloe, is my whole world. You did something for me that I can never truly repay. Are you a student at Westfield?"
Alex's face fell. "I was. Not anymore."
"What happened?"
"It's pointless," he said, shaking his head. "I was expelled. They said I stole something."
Lilian's expression sharpened. "They said you stole something? Did they have proof?"
"A girl accused me, and her friend backed her up. That's it. It was my word against theirs."
"And the university expelled you just like that? No investigation? No hearing?" Lilian's tone had shifted from grateful mother to something else entirely. Something formidable. "Alex, I'm a lawyer. And I am not about to let the school that my daughter will one day attend get away with treating a hero like a criminal. Get dressed. We're going to see the Dean."
An hour later, Alex found himself walking through the familiar halls of Westfield, but this time, he wasn't alone. Lilian Miller walked beside him with a confidence that seemed to part the sea of students. They didn't stop at the secretary's desk; they walked straight into Dean Hemlock's office.
The Dean looked up, startled and annoyed. "Excuse me, do you have an appointment?"
"Dean Hemlock, I'm Lilian Miller," she said, placing a hand on Alex's shoulder. "This is Alex Parker. You expelled him yesterday for theft. We're here to discuss his immediate reinstatement."
The Dean scoffed. "That matter is closed. He was found responsible based on eyewitness testimony."
"Eyewitnesses who are friends with the accuser, correct?" Lilian countered, her voice dangerously calm. "Was any other student interviewed? Was Alex given a chance to present his side of the story in a fair and unbiased setting? Was a formal investigation conducted by campus security, or did you simply make a summary judgment based on the word of a prominent donor's daughter?"
Dean Hemlock sputtered, "Now, see here, we have a process..."
"Does that process involve reviewing all available evidence?" Lilian interrupted. "For instance, there's a security camera in the main hallway, not twenty feet from where the alleged crime took place. I noticed it on our way in. Did anyone think to review that footage?"
The Dean's face went pale. It was clear the thought had never even occurred to her. "The testimony was quite clear..."
"I'm sure it was," Lilian said, her voice like ice. "I want to see the footage. Now."
Reluctantly, the Dean made a call. A few minutes later, a security officer was playing back the video on the Dean's computer. It clearly showed Clara leaving her bag and walking down the hall. A minute later, it showed Alex walking from the opposite direction, stopping at the water fountain, and then walking directly into the classroom without ever deviating towards the bags. A few moments after that, another student—Chad, the 'eyewitness'—could be seen glancing around before casually strolling past the bags, his hand dipping for a split second into the side pocket of Clara's bag.
The silence in the room was deafening.
Dean Hemlock looked horrified, not at the injustice, but at being caught. She cleared her throat. "Well. It appears there has been a... misunderstanding." She turned to Alex, her apology stiff and forced. "Mr. Parker, on behalf of Westfield, I apologize. Your expulsion will be immediately rescinded."
Alex was speechless. After all the pain, all the humiliation, being proven right felt surreal.
Lilian nodded curtly, her point made. She and Alex stepped out of the office and into the hallway.
"Thank you," Alex said, his voice thick with emotion. "I... I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll keep being the kind of person who runs towards danger to help someone else," she said with a small smile. "That's thanks enough." She pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to him. "The world isn't always fair, Alex. Sometimes you need a good lawyer in your corner. If you need anything, and I mean anything at all, you call me."
He watched her walk away, the small, elegant card feeling heavy in his hand. The System was a mystery, his heart was in pieces, and his future was a terrifying blank slate. But for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel entirely hopeless.