When David finally made it home, the sun had clocked out for the day and the sky was already doing its night shift. The apartment—if you could even call it that—was about the size of a Snorlax's belly button and just as welcoming. Dark, cramped, and full of emotional trauma.
He stepped inside and closed the creaky door behind him. Pitch black.
"Alright," he muttered, patting the wall like he was searching for treasure. "Let's get some light up in this place."
Click. Crack. Clack.
David flipped the switch up and down like he was trying to launch a secret rocket.
Nothing.
He paused, squinted into the darkness, then muttered, "Tch. Typical. Guess the electric company finally got tired of my IOUs."
He gave the dead switch one last flick out of spite. "What, I only owe you two months' electricity! You act like I burned down the power grid!"
Accepting defeat, David abandoned the switch and shuffled over to the window, dragging the worn-out curtain open like he was unveiling the saddest magic trick ever. A faint trickle of moonlight and starlight leaked in—just enough to let him stub his toe slightly less often.
See, David had rented this one-room "cozy" disaster zone near Pokémon High School so he could walk to class instead of selling a kidney for bus fare. But between his tiny student subsidy and the occasional soul-crushing part-time gig, he was constantly broke. Like, "candlelight broke."
Speaking of which.
David fumbled his way to the desk and reached for the emergency stash: one slightly bent candle and a box of matches that had seen better days. With the grace of someone who had done this routine far too many times, he lit the candle like a caveman who'd taken night classes.
The flame flickered to life, casting soft light over the cluttered little room. One mattress. One desk. One chair. Three unpaid bills pinned to the wall like wanted posters.
David sat down, sighed, and stared at the candle.
"This thing's got more job security than I do."
And with that, the room glowed softly—not from electricity, but from the humble firelight of a broke Pokémon student who'd just spent his last few brain cells trolling his best friend about Gardevoir.
David flopped onto his bed like a guy who just emotionally scarred his best friend and was proud of it. Which, to be fair, he had. Sitting cross-legged on his lumpy mattress that squeaked every time he blinked too hard, he took a deep breath and summoned the one thing that made his miserable life sparkle with meaning: his system panel.
With just a thought, the panel blinked into view like a hologram from a knockoff sci-fi movie. But to David, it was beautiful. Magical. Glorious.
And most importantly—profitable.
Right at the top, glowing in smug digital font, was his favorite number of the day:
[Negative Emotion Value: 6350]
David stared at it like a proud dad watching his kid win a three-legged race. "Six thousand three hundred and fifty!" he whispered, eyes sparkling like he'd just hit the jackpot at Sadness Casino.
"That's more than double what I set out to farm today! Let's gooo!" He pumped his fist triumphantly, nearly knocking over the candle, which, honestly, would've been game over considering he hadn't paid for electricity in two months.
He bowed his head toward the candlelight like a monk honoring the spirits of chaos. "Thank you, dearest Melissa… and you too, Tom. May the force of emotional damage be with you always."
Then, with all the grace of a gremlin opening a loot box, David pulled up the lottery panel. The holy shrine of digital gambling.
[Please select lottery level:]
A fancy-looking list popped up in front of him:
S-Level
A-Level
B-Level
C-Level
D-Level
David rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain who just inherited an orphanage.
"Okay… think," he muttered. "C-level costs 1,000 per spin. I've got 6,350. That's six spins. Meh."
He made a face like he'd just tasted expired Moomoo Milk.
"The problem is, this system's stingier than a Snorlax at a salad bar. Only gives guaranteed drops if you do ten pulls in a row. Six isn't gonna cut it."
Then he looked at D-level.
"D-level's cheaper. I could do like… sixty spins. But the rewards in there are basically trash. Like, here's a Poké Ball with a chip in it. Or a Potion that only heals your hopes."
He shuddered.
"No guarantees either. Which means I'll probably walk away with 59 burnt Pecha Berries and a paper hat."
David leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with the kind of existential crisis usually reserved for middle-aged accountants and Team Rocket interns.
"This is tough," he mumbled, scratching his head. "C-level's risky. D-level's junk. Do I want quality or quantity? Hmm…"
And there he sat, in his candle-lit, electricity-deprived lair of doom, contemplating whether to blow all his emotional trauma points on high-risk mediocrity or low-risk garbage.
Life really was full of difficult decisions.
***
David sat there frowning so hard he looked like he was trying to bend spoons with his mind. He stared at the lottery panel, still stuck between the dumpster fire that was the D-level draw and the mediocre heartbreak that was the C-level.
Then, in a burst of righteous stupidity, he slapped his thigh and yelled, "You know what? Screw it! I refuse to believe I can't pull something decent in sixty spins!"
This was classic David logic. If something doesn't work once, just do it way more until either it works or your dignity explodes.
He pointed at the screen like a commander launching a missile. "Start the ten-roll D-level draw! Let's get this disaster going!"
[Spending 1000 negative emotion points… Initiating ten consecutive draws.][drip… drip… drip…][Draw complete!][Congratulations! You've received: 'Thank you for participating' x9, and… Item: 1 box of Durex!]
"…Huh?"
David's eyes popped open. He slowly turned to look at the table next to him, where—out of nowhere—an extremely out-of-place, suspiciously shiny little box had appeared. He picked it up cautiously, as if it might explode or contain a live Jigglypuff.
On the side, in very fancy letters, it read:
"Durex Ultra-Thin 0.01 — Feel Everything"
David stared at it. The box stared back. It was silent. Awkward. Deeply uncomfortable.
"Bro," he muttered, blinking slowly, "I haven't even held hands with a girl in three years. What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Blow my nose with it?"
He felt his soul leave his body for a second. This system really had a sense of humor, and that sense of humor was evil.
[+20 negative emotion points from David…][+20 negative emotion points from David…]
He glared at the box, clutching it in both hands like it had personally insulted his family. "Are you serious right now? You give me this? Out of everything?"
The panel remained quiet, probably laughing at him in binary.
David sighed and dropped the box onto the table, watching it land with a soft thud, like it too was disappointed to be here.
He had no girlfriend. No one to give this to. Not even a romantic prospect. Honestly, he was closer to marrying a Muk than he was to needing that thing.
He rubbed his temples. "Am I cursed? Or just unlucky? Or is this system trying to send me a message? Like, 'Hey buddy, your love life is a joke, here's a gag gift to remind you.'"
Then, just to cope with the emotional damage, David muttered, "Maybe I am too dark. Too edgy. The system's scared of giving me anything useful. It's like, 'Nah, he's gonna summon Giratina if we give him something good.'"
And just like that, David silently handed himself 100 negative emotion points—because apparently, he was farming his own pain now.
David stared at the screen, his brows furrowed so hard they could've folded a paper airplane. He was having an inner crisis.
For the first time, the rock-solid logic of a materialist—"no such thing as luck, only math and pain"—was starting to wobble.
"…Maybe I should try metaphysics?" he mumbled, like a man who just Googled horoscopes after losing five bets in a row.
He hesitated, then pulled out his dusty, cracked phone—the one that had survived three drops, one soup spill, and a brief encounter with a Torchic—and opened his music app.
He searched around, then finally clicked play on a legendary track:
🎵 "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC blared through the tiny speakers. 🎵
"Raikou, if you're out there, buddy... I need you!" David yelled dramatically at the ceiling, as if a lightning dog might just crash through it and bless his gacha luck.
The heavy guitar riffs and thunderous drums rattled the mood and gave David a ridiculous sense of power. "Alright, I can feel it. I am the storm. I'm the chosen one!"
He pointed at the screen like he was casting a spell. "System! Spin that wheel again!"
[Spending 1000 negative emotion points…][Lucky draw in progress…][drip…drip…drip…][Ding! Congratulations! You received: 'Thank you for participating' x9, and… One set of overalls and a basketball uniform!]
"…HUH?"
A gentle shimmer appeared beside his bed, and down floated a folded-up pair of denim overalls and a bright orange basketball outfit, complete with a ball that bounced twice on the floor like it had attitude.
David stared at them, deadpan. "Oh. Wow. Great. So I either dress like a confused farmer or a washed-up high school jock. Awesome."
He looked at the basketball uniform again and muttered, "If I'd parted my hair down the middle before this, I'd look like I was auditioning for a low-budget K-pop group called 'Sad Boys Unlimited.'"
In the background, "Thunderstruck" faded into a haunting acapella cover, with some guy sadly crooning about the downfall of civilization—like it somehow knew exactly how David was feeling.
He stared at his phone, jaw clenched.
"I feel personally attacked."
The sheer disrespect of pulling nothing twice in a row, and then being handed cosplay outfits as a bonus prize? It hurt.
David slowly raised the phone above his head, channeling full Joker energy, about to launch it out the window like a Poké Ball of rage.
But then his eyes swept across his barren, furniture-deprived studio apartment.
"…No, no, no. This phone's all I've got. If it breaks, I'll be sending emails via Pidgey."
With a deep sigh, he lowered it again. "Calm down, David. Deep breaths. Cry later."
He stared at the basketball jersey lying sadly on the floor.
"Guess I'll go shoot some hoops in my feelings."
David stood there, frozen. A twitch formed on his forehead. A very real, very stressed-out twitch, in the shape of a small hashtag. His left eye twitched in sync. A vein near his temple throbbed like it was doing its own cardio workout.
"…System," he whispered, dangerously calm.
From his phone speaker, a syrupy sweet tune chirped out:
🎵 "Because of you… my world is full of love~" 🎵
David blinked slowly. "No. Absolutely not."
[Host's emotional instability detected.][+20 negative emotion points from David…][+20 negative emotion points from David…][+20 more...]
The system was practically feeding off his rage like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
David inhaled deeply. Once. Twice. A third time, just to be sure he wouldn't commit phone-related violence. "Okay… okay. Let's not freak out. Clearly, this is a music issue."
Yes. That had to be it.
He quickly yanked open his music app again. "I can't believe I used a love ballad for a gacha draw. Am I trying to seduce the RNG? No wonder it gave me basketball cosplay and a box of... disappointment."
David scrolled with purpose. "No, what I need… is my lucky playlist. The one that carried me through those cursed MMO loot tables. The one I used to grind rare drops back when my Wi-Fi was made of hopes and prayers."
He found it. There it was. His old favorite. The one he used to jokingly call "The European Emperor's Secret Weapon."It was a tradition. A superstition. A lifestyle.
He pressed play.
🎵 "GOOD LUCK COMES! I wish you GOOD LUCK!" 🎵
A ridiculously upbeat, overly cheerful song burst through the speaker like it had just done a cartwheel into the room. Trumpets blared. Bells jingled. Somewhere, a cartoon dog probably winked at the camera.
David's entire being filled with misguided confidence. His chest puffed out like he was about to win the lottery and become King of Pokéville.
"Alright, System," he said, voice filled with bravado. "Let's roll again. One more. I believe in the heart of the soundtrack."
[Spending 1000 negative emotion points...][Lucky draw in progress…][drip...drip...drip...][Ding! Congratulations, you've received: Thank you for participating x10!]
David: "…"
His smile slowly died.
His soul briefly left his body, hovered above him, and whispered "bro…" before flying off again.
[+30 negative emotion points from David…][+30… +30…]
The system was practically glowing from the feast of his suffering.
David rubbed his face like he could scrub off the despair. "Failure is the mother of success, right?" he mumbled.
Then he looked down at the result and sighed. "Well, if that's the case, I just met the whole extended family."
He slumped against the bed, the song still chirping "GOOD LUCK!" in the background like it was mocking him personally.
David looked at the ceiling.
"Next time I'm picking metalcore."
David sat hunched over his bed, eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled, and the "Good Luck Comes" jingle still cheerfully blaring from his phone speaker like some overly optimistic clown that just wouldn't shut up.
He pointed at the sky—or more accurately, the ceiling, since he was indoors—and declared with the righteousness of a man on the verge of financial and spiritual ruin, "System, give me another draw!"
[Spending 1000 negative emotion points…][Lucky draw in progress...][drip...drip...drip...][Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Thank you for participating ×10!]
David stared blankly at the result. His mouth twitched.
"...Well," he muttered, "I guess this one's the father of success. Can't have a mother without a dad, right? Makes perfect sense."
He gave a slow, unhinged nod, like he was trying to convince himself that cosmic disappointment was, in fact, part of a carefully calculated master plan. A success family reunion, if you will.
Still clinging to his remaining scraps of sanity, he snapped, "System! Draw again!"
[Spending 1000 negative emotion points…][Lucky draw in progress...][drip...drip...drip...][Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Thank you for participating ×10!]
[+50 negative emotion points from David…][+50…]
David slowly dragged a pillow over and buried his face in it. A muffled scream emerged, followed by a long, despairing sigh. He peeled his face off the pillow, hair now sticking up in weird angles.
"Okay… so the father and mother of success just… had a miscarriage, I guess."
The corner of his eye twitched again. "Encore," he hissed. "One more time. Just one. This time, for real."
At this point, his blood pressure could've powered a hydroelectric dam. He was living proof that gacha games and lottery systems should come with a seatbelt and a therapist.
He jabbed the air again like a mad general ordering another hopeless charge.
"System! Keep drawing!"
[Spending 1000 negative emotion points…][Lucky draw in progress...][drip...drip...drip...]
"Come on, just once, give me something that isn't a glorified slap in the face—"
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Thank you for participating ×10!]
David stared at the panel. His pupils dilated. His brain short-circuited.
Then he snapped.
"AGAIN!"
He slammed the confirm button like he was trying to punch a hole into another dimension.
"KEEP DRAWING!"
"DON'T STOP!"
"I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THIS DARKNESS!!"
His voice rose in pitch and intensity like a cartoon villain spiraling into insanity. His soul was hanging on by dental floss, and the system was gnawing at it gleefully.
If a psychologist had walked in right then, they would've gently taken David's hand and said, "Sir, step away from the imaginary system before you try to marry your toaster."
David, however, was all in. The gambler's spiral had consumed him. His room echoed with cries of "DRAW!" and "AGAIN!" like a broken slot machine chant. His fingers flew like he was playing a piano made of disappointment.
He didn't care anymore.
He wasn't drawing cards.He was drawing pain.
***
In the dim light of his tiny room, David's voice echoed like the final scream of a man who just realized his lottery winnings amounted to expired coupons.
The room had become a chaotic symphony of failure. David's frantic yelling, the system's cold robotic notifications, and that stupidly cheerful "Good Luck Comes" song still chirping from his phone like a drunk elf. It was the soundtrack of someone losing their sanity in high-definition.
Six ten-draws.
Six.
That was 6000 negative emotion points—gone.
All he got in return?
David lay flat on the bed like a dead fish, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, soul slowly floating away. He tilted his head to look at his "winnings" spread out on the wobbly table beside him.
One (1) box of Durex, ultra-thin.
One (1) pair of questionable-looking overalls.
One (1) sad little bottle of generic brand mineral water.
And one (1) basketball that still had the tag on.
David blinked slowly.
"That's... 6000 points worth of crap," he whispered to the universe, voice full of betrayal. "I could've bought a second-hand scooter… or therapy."
He wanted to cry. No, he needed to cry. But then the tears dried before they could even form.
His inner materialist—cold, logical, bitter—clawed its way back up.
Metaphysics? Background music? Asking Raikou for help like a desperate Pokémon fan?
All lies.
All a scam.
He'd been played by the system, by superstition, and by that accursed song that was now forever banned from his Spotify playlists.
He lay there, lifeless, until the shame stopped stinging. Slowly, robotically, David sat up.
He was so emotionally drained he couldn't even muster proper rage anymore. The tank was empty. His brain had stopped making serotonin and had started recycling bitterness.
"Might as well check how much emotional debt I've racked up," he mumbled, calling up the system panel.
His eyes widened as he stared at the screen.
Negative Emotion Points: 3090
David squinted. "Wait, what?"
He rubbed his eyes like a man checking if someone had secretly edited the scoreboard while he wasn't looking.
Then it hit him.
He clicked the emotion log. Line after line scrolled down.
Every single one?
From himself.
David contributed: +50David contributed: +50David contributed: +30
Hundreds of entries. His despair had generated over 3,000 points in just the past few minutes. He had emotionally outperformed his own teacher, Ms. Melissa, who had previously held the day's "angriest person" title with just over 2,000 points.
He blinked in horror.
"I… I farmed myself?"
His mouth hung open as he pieced it all together. "I am the sheep. The wool came from me."
His gaze fell back to the table of "rewards" as if the Durex box was mocking him. The overalls seemed to whisper, "You really wore yourself out for this, huh?"
David let out a long, tired sigh.
"Well," he muttered bitterly, "might as well finish the draw…"
After all, at this point, what did he even have to lose?
David stared at the D-level prize pool like it was a used toilet plunger in a charity auction.
Nope. Never again.
He gritted his teeth and declared to the system, "Even if I starve today, even if I jump out this window and break both my ankles, I swear I'll never draw from the D-level prize pool again!"
That was a man who had seen rock bottom. And the rock bottom had a box of discount condoms and a basketball on it.
"System!" David sat up like a man possessed. "Draw from the C-level prize pool—three times! Back-to-back!"
He glanced at the prize list for the C-tier pool. It looked fancy. Organized. Respectable. It even had proper weight divisions for rewards, unlike the D-tier dumpster fire that basically tossed garbage at your face while laughing.
Sure, the odds of getting a Rare Pokémon were still lower than his love life score on dating apps, but at least he wouldn't end up with a chicken suit or a bottle of off-brand mineral water again.
This one had cool stuff—real, usable stuff.
Pokédex. Real Poké Balls. Alliance coins. Gear that didn't look like it came from a thrift store clearance rack. It was, at the very least, a prize pool with dignity.
He had just over 3,000 negative emotion points left. That gave him exactly three shots.
Three dreams.
Three moments of hope before the likely crash and burn.
But hey, as the great philosopher Luther King once probably didn't say but should've:"People still need dreams. Otherwise, what the hell are they supposed to brag about when drunk?"
In the corner of David's imagination, an ethereal Luther King ghost gave him a thumbs up."That's right! I totally said that!"
[Using 1000 negative emotion points...][C-level lottery draw in progress...]
Suddenly, David's mental screen lit up like a casino machine having a seizure.
A seven-colored spinning wheel appeared, vibrant and hypnotic, spinning faster than his life was unraveling. The pointer whipped around, flickering across the prizes. David squinted hard, trying to spot where the good stuff was.
Poké Ball… Bicycle… Sandwich Voucher… Was that a shiny Pikachu!?
Ten seconds passed.
The wheel slowed.
David held his breath.
Please not a sandwich voucher, please not a sandwich voucher…
The pointer ticked… ticked… ticked…
And then stopped.
BOOM. A flash of dazzling golden light erupted from the center of the wheel, like the heavens had opened just for him.
David's brain short-circuited. His pupils dilated.
This wasn't normal light. This was Legendary-tier glow. The type of light that makes grown men weep and YouTubers scream into their mics.
In his mind, a familiar over-the-top voice yelled:
"Wooooow! GOLD! LEGENDARY REWARD!"
David's jaw dropped.
Could it be?
Was this finally it?
Had the suffering paid off?
Was he about to actually get something useful, something awesome, something worth bragging about on a Reddit post titled "I finally hit gold, AMA"?