The next morning, I stared down at my phone like it was a haunted toaster.
It was still hot from the night before—probably traumatized from being force-fed 37 gigabytes of digital sin from the Lonely Legends group chat. Half the screen was flickering like it had seen things no screen should see, and the battery drained faster than my will to live during group projects.
"Nope," I muttered, tossing it on the bed like it personally betrayed me. "We're done. You're dead to me."
The system, ever helpful, pinged:
[New Side Mission: Buy A New Phone So You Don't Get Exposed Mid-Date Like A Fool Again]
[Reward: +$750 for Successful Purchase]
[Bonus: Avoid Getting Scammed This Time, You Sweet Idiot]
Yeah.
That last part?
Valid.
Because here's the thing: a few weeks ago, I'd gotten bamboozled into buying a "premium budget flagship" from some sketchy guy in the Lonely Legends group chat. It looked sorta like a fancy model—had the chrome edges, the half-eaten pear logo, and the camera bumps—but it ran like a soggy Roomba powered by depression.
Turns out?
I'd bought a Fonxi.
Not a Fonzi. Not a Fonza. A Fonxi.
Which, yes, sounded suspiciously like a popular brand if you yelled it with a mouth full of marshmallows, but ran on an operating system called Dröid Xtreme™. Every app had ads. Even the calculator.
Never again.
So I headed to the mall, pocket heavy with system money and heart full of cautious optimism.
___
Cellular Temple: Tech Store For the Elite, the Desperate, and the Easily Impressed
The store was sleek. Shiny. Overstimulating. It smelled like overpriced plastic and crushed dreams.
Rows and rows of futuristic-looking phones sat under harsh lighting, each one begging me to touch it. Seduce it. Buy it. Regret it.
A cheerful sales rep in a high-collared neon vest approached. "Welcome to Cellular Temple! Looking for something sleek, smart, or soul-devouring today?"
"I need something... reliable," I said, trying to sound like a man who definitely knew what RAM was. "My current phone betrayed me during a critical moment involving a girl and a funnel cake."
She didn't blink.
"Got it. We've all been there. You're looking for something in the mid-to-high range then? Any preferences?"
"Yes," I said. "Not a Fonxi."
She nodded solemnly like she'd heard tales of other brave, fallen warriors. "Say no more."
She led me through the modern pantheon of knockoff-worthy greatness:
___
Samsync Nebula S12 – Sleek, shiny, but ran HarmonyFoam OS, which felt cursed somehow.
Pearl 13 Ultra+ – Thin enough to cut glass, but it had only one port and screamed fragile.
Gooble Plex 9X Pro Maxish – Apparently optimized by "AI-fused carbon monkeys" (???), but the camera had twelve lenses for no reason.
Motorax ThunderZoom – Looked powerful, sounded cool, probably exploded at 40% battery.
Zony Xeria Blade Vibe 5 – Waterproof, dustproof, logicproof.
___
Eventually, I settled on a Pearl Nova 8S Quantum. It had decent specs, clean interface, no ads in the calculator, and—best of all—a "Private Mode" that let me tuck group chats into digital jail.
[Purchase Complete: Pearl Nova 8S Quantum]
[Reward Claimed: +$750]
[Bonus Success: No Scam Detected]
[System Comment: Look At You, Making Adult Decisions!]
"Thanks," I whispered to the box like I'd just adopted a high-maintenance alien child.
As I left the store, phone in hand, I felt... powerful.
Like I could survive anything now.
Even a real date.
Maybe.
Probably.
Okay, hopefully.
Back at home, I unboxed my brand-new Pearl Nova 8S Quantum like it was Excalibur and I was the Chosen Nerd.
Sleek. Sexy. Smelled vaguely like robot dreams.
The setup screen asked me to transfer data from my old phone, but I paused, remembering all the digital sins lurking in the Lonely Legends group chat like moldy leftovers in the fridge.
"Absolutely not," I muttered, poking the "Start Fresh" option like it owed me money.
With the new phone booted up, I felt like a whole new man. A man with a phone that didn't randomly start opening cursed links or crash mid-text like it was having an existential crisis.
The system chimed in:
[Device Registered: Pearl Nova 8S Quantum]
[New Feature Unlocked: DATE MODE]
[Activate Date Mode to silence notifications, hide embarrassing apps, and boost social charisma by 15%]
[Warning: Does Not Cover Body Odor or Bad Breath]
"Oh heck yeah," I whispered, grinning. "We're cooking with sexy fire now."
I installed only the essentials:
Dating app (for research, obviously).
A note-taking app for system quests and flirt strategies.
A cleaner, slightly less cursed group chat—called "Chads of Honor." Still sketchy, but with rules and moderators, thank you very much.
Just as I was feeling all proud and responsible, the system hit me with another ping:
[New Task: Plan the Perfect Date - Location, Outfit, Backup Plan]
[Reward: $2,000 + Mystery Bonus]
[Deadline: TONIGHT]
"TONIGHT?" I gasped.
I checked the time. Yep. I had exactly five hours until D-Date.
I scrambled into action.
First, I called in a favor from my cousin Marvin, who worked at a fancy local bistro called Crème de la Crème de la Crème. Yeah, they went hard on the name, but their food slapped.
"I need a reservation for two," I told him. "Romantic vibes. Not too loud. Preferably without open flames near the table because I will 100% knock something over."
He sighed. "Fine. But if you ghost this girl like the last one—"
"She ghosted me!" I protested.
"Because you took her to a cat café with your dog, bro."
Okay, valid point.
With dinner secured, I turned to my outfit.
Which... yikes.
Most of my wardrobe looked like a clearance sale at Sad College Boy Depot.
So I yanked out my emergency crisp button-down, ironed the absolute crap out of it, and paired it with dark jeans and my one pair of not-ruined sneakers.
Marshmallow watched all this from the bed, head tilted in silent judgment.
"I can be cool," I told him.
He sneezed.
The new phone buzzed one last time with a final message before I left:
[Date Mode Activated]
[Battery 100% | Confidence Level: Rising]
[Don't Be Weird]
"Too late," I muttered, slipping the phone into my pocket like it was a secret weapon.
Outside, the sunset was already painting the sky in cotton-candy shades of orange and pink.
This was it.
Time to face Mia, charm her socks off, and pray my group chats didn't betray me again.
With my new phone in hand and the system cheering me on in the background (probably smugly sipping a cocktail), I stepped out the door and into the night.
Game on.