Ethan Blackwood spent the rest of the night glued to his laptop screen, searching for auditions. His eyes burned from exhaustion, but his fingers continued scrolling, clicking through casting call after casting call.
This was his routine—his desperate ritual whenever money ran thin, whenever he needed a reason to believe he hadn't wasted his life. And now, with the System breathing down his neck, the pressure had only intensified.
The screen's dim glow cast deep shadows in the small, cluttered studio apartment. A half-empty ramen cup sat precariously on his nightstand, alongside unpaid bills and an old notebook filled with past audition notes.
Come on, come on...
He navigated to his usual website—the one where he'd found every extra gig, every background role that paid him barely enough to scrape by. It was his safest bet, his only lifeline.
After several dead ends, one listing caught his attention.
OPEN CASTING CALL: Independent Film – "Detective Noir"
Role: Bar Patron #3 (Speaking Role)
Compensation: $100 (One Day Shoot, Non-Union)
Ethan's pulse quickened. A speaking role.
Two or three lines at most. No name, no backstory, just a bar patron in some indie detective flick. It was nothing glamorous, but to him, it was a miracle.
He swallowed hard, staring at the listing. It's barely enough to cover groceries, he thought grimly. But it didn't matter. The System had given him a mission, and this was the best shot he had. He clicked APPLY without hesitation.
The moment he did, a golden notification popped up in front of his eyes.
{ Mission Progress Updated: Audition Secured. }
Ethan groaned. "Can you not do that while I'm exhausted? I swear my heart is going to give out one of these days."
"Oh, please. I think you'll find that my timing is impeccable." The System's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Besides, considering your incredible financial situation, I'd think you'd be more excited about this."
Ethan rubbed his temples. "Excited? I'll be 'excited' when I can afford rent without selling a kidney."
Survival Mode: Rent and Reality
The faint hum of his laptop filled the silence as Ethan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. His mind drifted to a problem far more pressing than landing this role—paying rent.
His bank app sat open on his phone, taunting him.
Current Balance: $247.35
He sighed heavily. Rent was due in a week. $1,100.
He had barely a quarter of that. His last extra gig paid him $80, and his side hustle at the café barely covered his utilities. His landlord, an aging ex-stage actor named Mr. Foster, had been lenient before, but Ethan knew he couldn't push his luck forever.
Between food, rent, and transit money, the math simply didn't work.
His fridge contained two eggs, a half-drunk carton of milk, and some instant noodles. He'd been stretching meals for weeks. If this didn't change soon, he'd be eating ketchup packets by the end of the month.
Ethan groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
"Wow." The System's voice crackled to life. "Your finances are somehow even sadder than your acting stats. Impressive."
Ethan scowled. "Not in the mood."
"Oh, don't be like that. If you die of starvation, that's technically a mission failure."
He rolled his eyes. "If I don't book something, I'll be homeless. That's the bigger issue here."
"Right, right. Let's focus on the audition before you spiral into existential dread."
Ethan exhaled sharply. He needed to make this role count. It wouldn't solve his problems, but it was a step forward. A win—however small—was still a win.
Preparing for the Role
He grabbed a notebook and flipped to a blank page. He had never been much of a method actor, but with the System watching his every move, he figured he should at least try.
Bar Patron #3…
He scribbled down everything he could think of—what kind of guy would be drinking in a noir detective film? A shady crook? A jaded businessman? A drunk too caught up in his own misery to notice the story unfolding around him?
He didn't have any lines to work with yet, but he could at least imagine the scene.
Then another thought hit him. "Wait… I don't even know what I'm supposed to say yet. What if it's something ridiculous?"
"Ah, now that is the true test of an actor, my dear Ethan." The System's voice dripped with dramatic flair. "Can you take the most meaningless of lines and make them unforgettable?"
Ethan snorted. "You sound like one of those pretentious acting coaches."
"Why, thank you."
Shaking his head, he decided he needed to get serious. He cleared his throat and experimented with different deliveries.
"Your drink, sir." He lowered his voice, trying for something mysterious.
"Your drink, sir." This time, he added a bit of irritation, as if he was a bartender who had seen too much in his life.
"Your drink, sir." He gritted his teeth and threw in a growl, like he was barely keeping himself together.
Each version changed the character in subtle ways. He had no idea if this was even close to what they were looking for, but at least he was trying.
"Not bad," the System remarked. "Still mediocre, but you might pass as an actor instead of an AI-generated extra."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Well, at least now I know I'm better than some robots."
"That remains to be seen."
The Deadline Looms
As the clock crept past 3 AM, Ethan finally leaned back against his chair, rubbing his sore neck. The audition was tomorrow. He had done all he could tonight.
But despite his exhaustion, something strange flickered in his chest.
Hope.
It wasn't much. It wasn't enough to fix his life, to clear his debts, or guarantee a future. But it was something.
He closed his notebook and shut off his laptop, crawling into bed as the glow of the streetlamp flickered against the ceiling.
Tomorrow, he'd fight for that stupid two-line role.
Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn't just trying to survive.
He was trying to win.
{ Mission Progress Updated: Role Preparation – In Progress }