I Was Sent Into A Shitty Urban Novel-Chapter 24 - . System

Lucious stared at the crosswalk’s red hand, scooter engine idling beneath him. The heat of the midday sun clung to his skin like syrup, and his stomach groaned for something more substantial than stale rice and fermented leftovers. He tapped the side of his cracked helmet.

"I swear if I don’t get something decent today, I’m gonna eat a tire," he muttered.

The light changed. He drove across the intersection and parked in front of a shabby corner shop, the kind that sold everything from instant noodles to expired candy. He glanced at his delivery app—still no pings. A rare lull.

Inside, the air was stale and smelled faintly of wet cardboard. He ignored the microwave meals and walked straight to the counter, where rows of scratch-off lottery cards hung like decorative flags of false hope.

"Three quick-picks," he said, sliding crumpled bills across the counter.

The cashier didn’t say a word. Just plucked three cards from the rack and slapped them down.

Lucious grabbed them, but just as he turned to leave, something strange happened.

A flicker.

Right over the surface of the cards—like heat shimmer, only clearer. Then, numbers.

He blinked.

One card shimmered a dull red: [Win Probability: 0.1%]

The second: [Win Probability: 5.6%]

The third: [Win Probability: 23.7%]

Lucious rubbed his eyes. The numbers were still there. Floating just above each card like AR projections, but without a phone. He looked around. No one else seemed to notice.

"What the hell..." he muttered under his breath.

A minute passed. Still no change.

"I’m really losing it," he said, walking outside. His thumb hesitated, then landed on the third card—the one with 23.7%.

He scratched.

$200

His jaw slackened. No more stale leftovers tonight.

"I actually won?" he breathed, looking down at the prize code. "How...?"

He pocketed the other two cards, stuffed the winner into his wallet, and let out a stunned laugh. "Alright, maybe it’s my lucky day."

By the time his shift resumed, the heat had intensified. He raced through two drop-offs without incident—until one building caught his attention. A narrow apartment complex in the older part of Riverstone. He’d never liked this area. Too many tight corridors and people yelling out of windows.

As he walked up the second flight of stairs, he noticed something again.

Above the door of Apartment 2C, faint text shimmered.

[Customer Tip Probability: 0%]

[Delay Tolerance: Low]

[Complaint Risk: High]

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, blinking hard.

He looked at the next door over.

[Customer Tip Probability: 74%]

[Delay Tolerance: Moderate]

[Complaint Risk: Low]

No one else seemed to notice a thing.

Lucious stepped back. His breath caught.

"This can’t be real."

Still, instincts kicked in. He knocked twice, quickly, on 2C’s door, then dropped the food bag and ran back down before they could even answer. Screw the risk. No tip, high complaint? He wasn’t about to stick around for verbal abuse.

It kept happening throughout the day. Every customer, every stop—information shimmered just above their heads or in floating text near their homes. Some were simple—"Hungry," "In a rush." Others were more complex.

At one office tower, he walked into the front lobby with a large order for a tech company. As he approached the receptionist, a number blinked above her.

[Has Crush on Her Manager: 89%]

[Resents Corporate Culture: 76%]

[Will Rate Delivery 5 Stars if Complimented: 100%]

Lucious hesitated, then smiled. "I like your earrings."

She blinked, startled, then giggled. "Thanks! I just got them."

+Tip Added: $8.00

He checked his phone. The app updated with a new tip the moment he turned to leave.

It was like... reading the world. Seeing probabilities. Feelings. Intentions. Some vague. Others oddly specific. The longer the day went on, the more the data filled in. By evening, entire panels of information flashed across people’s heads when he focused. He had to look away sometimes just to think straight.

At one point, at a red light, he saw a man walking a dog with a caption overhead:

[Will Trip in 3... 2... 1...]

The man stumbled over the curb and nearly face-planted.

Lucious couldn’t believe it. "Okay. What the hell is going on?"

Later that night, back at home, he locked the door, threw his helmet on the couch, and dropped his keys into the bowl by the door. The apartment was no cleaner than yesterday—still small, still cluttered, still depressing—but something about it felt different.

He had $200 in winnings. Nearly double what he usually made in a day. A full fridge, finally. He microwaved leftover dumplings, added soy sauce, and stared at the flickering kitchen light.

As he ate, he idly scrolled his phone, looking at job ads he knew he’d never apply for. Corporate positions, office clerks, even security guard roles—they all required "minimum two years of experience" or a clean background. He had neither. All he had was the scooter, a cracked screen phone, and a city that never looked back.

Then it happened.

As he sat on his couch, half-watching an ad for some cheap insurance company, the screen flickered—just once—and a soft glow lit up the room.

His eyes shifted.

A blue interface hovered in front of him, translucent and vivid.

[FORTUNE SYSTEM ACTIVATED]

Welcome, Lucious Grey. Candidate Verified.

Your path begins now.

> Ability Unlocked: Probability Insight (Basic Tier)

> Trackable Metrics: Luck Flow, Risk Ratio, Opportunity Windows

> Daily Cap: Active (Upgrade Available)

Lucious stared, dumpling halfway to his mouth.

"...What in the actual f*ck is going on"

The screen didn’t vanish. It floated there patiently, as though waiting for him to respond. A small cursor blinked in the corner.

His hands shook slightly as he reached forward.

Just before he could touch it, the system chimed again.

Tutorial Mode: Pending. Sleep recommended before integration.

The interface faded gently. Lucious sat back, stunned.

Sleep?

Hell. Maybe that was the best idea.

He stood, brushed crumbs off his lap, and muttered to himself, "If this is some kind of weird dream... it better not end with another damn knock on the door."

He flicked the lights off and collapsed into bed.

But long after his eyes closed, numbers still danced faintly behind his eyelids.

Jason’s phone sat facedown on the nightstand, screen dark, his steady breathing the only sound in the penthouse bedroom.

At exactly 2:41 a.m., the screen lit up on its own. No chime, no vibration. Just a faint blue glow.

⚠️ SYSTEM ALERT: IMBALANCE DETECTED

— Localized Disturbance Registered —

— Source: Unknown External Variable —

— Sector: Riverstone —

The Fortune Analysis App, disguised behind layers of encrypted folders and submenus, quietly came alive in the background. Data streamed silently across the hidden interface—lines of cascading symbols and probability calculations.

Analyzing anomaly...

Probability distortion exceeds predictive thresholds.

Disruption identified as non-native.

Updating internal systems to compensate.

A loading bar flashed across Jason’s screen for a fraction of a second—too brief for the human eye.

COMMENCING INTERNAL UPDATE...

Please standby.

The screen flickered. For a moment, it displayed something not meant for human eyes—an abstract starburst of shapes and numbers twisting in an impossible loop.

Update Complete. Standby for reconvergence.

Then everything went dark again.

Jason remained asleep, unaware of what just took place.

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