Extra's Money System: Money from Distrust, Skills from Lies
"Ugh... what the hell?"
My skull felt like it was being used as a drum in some heavy metal concert. Every throb behind my eyes promised a full-blown explosion.
And then it hit me—right. I drank way too much last night.
Bits of memory came rushing back: a nightmare workday, my jackass boss dragging me to an “after party,” one drink turning into ten. Couldn't say no, not when a bonus—or respect—was on the line.
I groaned and rubbed my temples. This wasn’t just a hangover. Something was wrong.
My voice—raspy and strange—escaped without permission. I froze. That was my voice… but it didn’t sound like mine.
I sat up too fast. The world tilted. And then—trees.
Everywhere.
What the—? I lived downtown. This was a forest.
I staggered up, legs barely cooperating. The air was too clean, too fresh. Like sixth-grade camping-trip fresh.
Then something moved.
A lump of earth? No. It floated. Floated.
Ding!
A chime echoed in my head like a glitch in a video game.
"What the hell..."
Nothing around me changed—except a woman standing nearby. Calm. Like this was normal.
She turned and raised an eyebrow. “You coming in or not?”
Still dazed, I nodded and followed.
Ding!
“ShapeShifter ability added to the shop.”
Shop?
Then a robotic voice boomed in my head, smug and cheerful:
“Welcome to the Distrust System, dear host. Your mission: gain distrust. The less you trust, the more you earn. Bonus: every time someone lies to you, their power is copied.”
I caught one word.
Money.
My confusion snapped into interest. If there was cash in this madness, I was all ears.
The woman finally glanced back, unimpressed by my staring.
“Lost?” she asked, tone like velvet hiding a knife.
“Me? Nah,” I said, smirking. “Still right here… looking at you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Later, she stood in front of an empty table, once stacked with food. All gone.
She hissed. “Was he fasting for ten years?!”
Her stash—gone, devoured by me.
Murder was now top of her to-do list.
She glanced at me, slumped with a bloated stomach and snoring softly.
“Disgusting human,” she muttered, already pulling a hidden blade from behind the wall.
She crept into the room, raised the knife—
Thunk.
Right into the blanket.
No scream.
She yanked it back.
Pillows.
Her eye twitched. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A voice murmured behind her, smug as hell:
“You know, for someone planning murder, you’re really predictable.”
Table of contents
Latest Update2
Chapter-2. The distrust system.2025-05-01 15:04
Latest Updates