Lying on my bed, I looked up to the familiar floorboards, he doesn't know how many times now he's stared up at those stars,

In my mind, the conversation between those two men replayed relentlessly.

A debt? The word itself was enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine in the 4th district.

Here, unpaid debts didn’t just ruin lives; they ended them. Debtors either wound up as lifeless bodies in the backstreets or were trafficked off for purposes I didn’t dare imagine.

The sharp metallic tang of blood filled Haowei’s nose. The candle that had clattered to the floor earlier was gone—along with Xuanlan’s body, but Haowei didn't pay any heed to this fact but instead kept thinking to himself.

Everything was just as the book had described: the three knocks, the events leading up to them. But one detail didn’t match. He hadn’t been captured.

Haowei rubbed his hands together, the motion restless and uneasy. The truth sat heavy in his mind.

Had he not awoken in time... Well, he didn’t need to spell it out.

If everything in that novel was accurate, this was just the beginning, even if he didn't get captured then there was no doubt in his mind, if he wasn't careful a more painful death would await him.

Haowei stumbled to the wardrobe, his movements stiff and awkward. Blood crusted and flaked around his joints, his slippery hands struggling to grip the knob. When it finally opened, he stared blankly inside.

He had already accepted his father’s death, his mother’s betrayal—but this? Being some expendable nobody, an extra killed off to pad the word count? That wasn’t something he could accept.

No. It just didn’t suit him.

Thinking forward, Sure, he’d escaped death this time around, but with Xu Lian’s arrival, everything would change. Staying in the 4th district was nothing short of a death wish.

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Haowei pulled out a scruffy, cheap hoodie and began to strip off his blood-soaked clothes. The sticky fabric clung to his skin, and he grimaced as he peeled it away. Once the hoodie was off, something caught his eye.

On his neck, large and unfamiliar, was a tattoo.

Haowei blinked, any lingering drowsiness banished as he traced the edges of the ink with his fingers. It was a flower, its shape nearly the size of his palm, with roots that wound tightly around his neck.

Tattoos like these were only for players—proof of those who had entered instances. They formed the moment you stepped into one.

But he’d never entered an instance.

So why did he have this mark now?

Haowei pulled on the hoodie, obscuring the tattoo from view.

[Congratulations, Player!]

The message startled him, and he jolted, nearly falling backward.

You’ve been officially registered as a player. Would you like to choose a username?

Haowei flinched, his finger brushing against the “No” option by accident.

Username generated!

[BigCutie02]

...

Haowei stared at the screen in stunned silence, a deep sense of injustice welling up within him.

They couldn’t have warned him before throwing that at him?

Especially with such a hideous username. Any lingering worries from earlier were drowned out by his frustration at the system.

'Is there anyway, at all, to change my user'

“Is there any way—at all—to change my username?” he asked, trying to keep his tone polite.

[Once a username is selected, it cannot be changed for 6 months.]

Six months?! A headache pounded behind his temples. He gritted his teeth. Fine. He could wait. He was a patient man. He had no choice.

Putting the matter aside for now, Haowei walked over to his desk, carefully avoiding the large pool of blood on the floor. The drawer creaked violently as he forced it open. Inside, hidden beneath a false bottom, was a small tin the size of his palm.

Haowei opened it up; a small tin the size of a palm was inside; within the container was all the money he had been saving up for awhile now,

Inside the tin was all the money he’d saved.

He hadn’t expected to use it so soon. Grumbling, he slammed the drawer shut.

If he was a player now, shouldn’t he have a stats panel? He remembered reading something about it once in a newspaper. Players could buy props and enjoy a slew of other privileges. The one he was most curious about was seeing his stats.

Testing the theory, Haowei called out, “Stats Panel.”

A bold message appeared in front of him, the text practically screaming in anger:

[ERROR]

BigCutie02 has violated the rules by becoming a player prematurely without entering an instance.

To resolve this issue, BigCutie02 will be automatically teleported into one.

Before Haowei could even react, the tin he held clattered to the floor as the system dragged him in.