Was he the owner of this cursed motel now?
If so, maybe there was more to that paper than he initially thought.
He pushed himself up and headed back toward the lockbox.
The paper was still there, untouched. Taking a deep breath, he reached for it.
"Ouch!" A sharp edge gave him a paper cut.
''I hope I'm not diabetic, or this tiny cut's gonna kill me,' he muttered, wiping his fingers on his shirt.
A drop of blood slipped free, landing right on the paper.
[DING!]
A notification bell echoed in his ears, and he stumbled backward as a blue, translucent window materialized before his eyes.
[Bloodline Recognized.]
[Successor Legitimate.]
[Scanning Host Brain Waves.]
[Readjusting System Interface for Host Preference.]
[Calibrating...]
[Calibrating...]
A series of texts began flashing before him, so fast that he could barely make sense of what was happening.
But something about the experience felt oddly familiar.
'Are you kidding me?.. Is this a system interface?'
He wasn't clueless. This was exactly the kind of thing he read a hundred times in web novels.
A cliche so overused that every other story seemed to slap a system on it just for the sake of it.
[Congratulations, Host! You are now the new owner of the Motel System.]
The words hovered in front of him, glowing faintly in the dim room.
'Well, at least it's a little original. I was expecting something generic like 'Ultimate System'—or worse, some mind-control power over women. Whoever writes those novels seriously needs to see a psychiatrist instead of projecting their depravity through writing.'
He always hated those kinds of stories, so after reading thousands of chapters, he made sure to leave bad review every single time.
'I'm getting off track,' he reminded himself, trying to reel his thoughts back in.
Luck sat on the short stairs outside the motel, squinting at the translucent window.
System tailored the interface to match his tastes perfectly, and he just shook his head, caught between a laugh and amusement.
Heads-up display mirrored HEO exactly—the game that robbed him of countless nights of sleep. Well, at least that part felt familiar.
A dark orange background framed the display, allowing the motel's surroundings to show faintly behind it.
Icons lined the surface, blinking like overeager buttons just dying to be clicked.
He read through the system's details, gradually making sense of it all.
First, the system wasn't inside him. It was bound to the motel. He knew because the moment he stepped away, it vanished.
Which, honestly, was good news. It meant there wasn't some mysterious entity squatting in his soul or hijacking his brain.
No mysterious voice whispering commands or meddling with his thoughts.
"Let's see… Status," he muttered, clicking the house-shaped icon.
The window transitioned.
O - O - O - O - O
Property Name: [BLANK]
Status: Rundown Motel
Rooms:
2 Basic Bedroom (Dirty)
3 Bathrooms (Dirty)
1 Small Store (Empty)
1 Office (Dirty)
1 Small Supply Room
Special Rooms:
None
Property Market Value: 100 E-Coins
Property Debt: 12,000 E-Coins
Property Tax: 100 E-Coins per month
O - O - O - O - O
Running a hand through his hair, he muttered, "So I'm managing a dump. How exactly did that old geezer run this place into the ground?"
He now referred to his mysterious grandfather simply as the "Old geezer," the name dripping with bitterness.
But his mysterious grandfather was the least of his problems.
What really worried him now was being trapped here.
Even with the system's approval, he quickly realized he still couldn't leave the motel's boundaries.
'Don't tell me that inheriting this dump means I'm stuck here forever?'
Just thinking about it drenched him in cold sweat.
[DING!]
First Mission: You're an aspiring entrepreneur, set to follow in the mysterious footsteps of your legendary grandfather—who was kind enough to leave an embarrassment like you his inheritance. But before you start raking in billions, how about naming your property first?
[Reward: Silver Box]
'Wait, is the 'embarrassment' part really necessary?'
No wonder that girl said he was annoying—and why his employee hated him. Yeah, he could already picture what a total asshole the guy must have been.
'Naming the property, huh?"
It seemed ridiculous—like naming the place would somehow make everything better.
Still, it was a start. Maybe giving it a name would help it feel less... rundown.
'Alright, let's see... what do I even call this place?'
He rubbed the back of his neck, pondering. A name could mean something... right?
Maybe it would give the place an advantage. Or maybe it was just another
pointless task.
His eyes swept over the place, the tangled weeds, and the flickering "VACANCY" sign—more a warning than an invitation.
Nothing about this screamed comfort.
"Can't call it Paradise or anything," he snorted
"What about... Final-Stop Motel?"
"Has an honest, no-nonsense ring to it. Feels like a place for people who've run out of options and are just tired of life." He chuckled aloud.
The system rang, and a new message appeared:
[Property Name Confirmed: Final-Stop Motel]
[Reward: Bronze Box earned!]
[Since your naming skills don't live up to your grandfather's legendary status, you have been penalized]
"You didn't say that from the start! You should've warned me!"
No response followed.
"Hmp, Final Stop's not bad. Bet this sorry excuse of a motel had an even worse name before."
[DING!]
[This place used to be called the Starlight Horizon Motel.]
Speechless, Luck had to admit that name was a billion times better. He should count himself lucky to even get a reward.
"Can I still change the name?" he begged.
[DING!]
His hopes soared, and he smiled wide—only to receive a bronze-colored box.
"For fuck's sake."