Living in the bubble economy of Tokyo, I became a literary giant through lotteries.

Chapter 4 Sword Art Online

Guan Gufeng went downstairs and left; Guan Guyu did not see him off.

She stood behind the second-floor window watching him walk away. Only after Guan Gufeng's figure had completely disappeared did she notice the white breath she exhaled onto the windowpane.

Guan Gufeng boarded the train, his destination being Shinjuku.

It wasn't because he liked that neighborhood that was known as "a place that never sleeps 24 hours a day," but because when he came out of Shinchosha today, he saw many convenience stores nearby that were hiring.

For convenience.

Upon arriving in Shinjuku, he braved the snow to find a place to stay. Although he said he could write in bed, he preferred to find a hotel with a table.

After visiting three or four hotels, I finally found one with a folding table in the room.

After haggling with the owner for a long time, I rented it for half a month for 2000 yen.

Although Guan Guyu gave a lot of money, as the old saying goes, save where you can and spend where you can. The hotel environment is already much better than home.

After paying the money, I took the keys and went upstairs.

The room was simple: a door, four walls, and a small folding table on the bed.

After putting his bag on the bed and tidying up a bit, Guan Gufeng decided to go out for a walk since it wasn't too late.

I bought some manuscript paper and ink, and while I was at it, I checked if any convenience stores nearby were hiring.

The nights in Shinjuku are never truly quiet; even when it's snowing, the streets are still bustling with people.

Guan Gufeng walked through the crowd, his eyes sweeping over the job postings on the roadside.

Civil engineer, daily wage 12,000; Izakaya waiter/waitress, hourly wage 1,100.

He stopped in front of a GG sign at an izakaya (Japanese pub) and hesitated for a moment.

In his previous life, when he was studying in Tokyo, he worked in the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. He was quite skilled, and at several classmate reunions, he was the one who cooked, and people almost thought he had a formal training in cooking.

Although the hourly wage is high, the work in the kitchen is too tiring and will affect my novel writing. Convenience stores are still more convenient.

After walking about 711 meters from the hotel, a 7-Eleven appeared on the street corner. The sign was particularly eye-catching in the snowy night, and a handwritten note was pasted on the glass door:

"We are recruiting night shift staff. The hourly wage is 500 yen, meals are provided, and there is an extra allowance after 22 p.m.

Guan Gufeng stood at the door and thought for a moment.

Five hundred yen, much lower than he expected, but it included a meal, and the restaurant was less than a five-minute walk from where he lived.

He pushed open the door and went inside. Perhaps because of the snow, there were no customers in the store at that moment.

Behind the cashier sat a man in his forties, wearing a green apron uniform and holding a newspaper.

Upon seeing someone enter, he immediately put down his newspaper and gave a gentle smile.

Welcome!

Guan Gufeng walked to the counter and bowed slightly.

"Hello, are you the store manager? I'd like to apply for a night shift clerk position."

The store manager looked him up and down. He was a young man, around twenty years old, with a pale complexion due to malnutrition.

With his handsome face and calm demeanor, he is the kind of melancholic heartthrob that high school girls like these days.

"student?"

"I'm... on leave of absence from school."

The store manager nodded without asking further questions. "Can you work through the night? When can I start work?"

"Yes, anytime."

"Okay." The manager took out a uniform that matched his from behind the counter. "There are no customers tonight. I'll show you the process first. You can take tonight's food home—the oden and rice balls. The rest will be thrown away anyway."

"Thank you, store manager."

Guan Gufeng took the apron and tied it on, and the shop manager began to teach him one by one.

Operating the cash register, categorizing goods, timing of adding ingredients to oden, checking the expiration date of rice balls...

An hour later, Guan Gufeng had basically mastered all the procedures.

The manager took out a plastic bag from the kitchen, which contained several rice balls and a box of oden, still steaming hot.

"Take it. Come to work at eight o'clock tomorrow night."

Guan Gufeng took the bag and was about to thank him and leave when the door to the inner room was pushed open, and a boy who looked like a junior high school student walked out.

"Dad," the boy said, holding a Famicom (Nintendo Entertainment System), "can you play Contra with me?"

He was halfway through his sentence when he saw Guan Gufeng, paused for a moment, blushed slightly, and quickly went back inside.

Seeing this, the shop manager laughed and said, "This is my son. He usually helps out in the shop. Recently, he's become interested in Contra, but neither of us are very good at it. We can't even get past the third level."

The moment Guan Gufeng saw the Famicom, an invisible white light struck his brain, illuminating something within him.

In this era, without the internet and smartphones, people's biggest forms of entertainment, besides television and magazines, are these game consoles.

Among them, Nintendo stands out. This company, which focuses on family-friendly games, remains a giant in the gaming industry even in later generations.

Fantasy, games, other worlds...

A fantasy story about swords and magic, passion and friendship, and the interweaving of virtual and reality resurfaced from the depths of my memory.

He knew what to write.

Suppressing his excitement, Guan Gufeng slowly said, "Manager, when you're playing later, you can try pressing 'Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, B' in sequence on the title screen before starting the game."

The store manager blinked. "What's that?"

"An urban legend says it can summon thirty lives."

After saying that, Guan Gufeng picked up the plastic bag, pushed open the door, and walked into the snowy night.

A hesitant voice came from behind: "Up, up, down... left, right, left, right... BABA?"

……

On the way back to the hotel, Guan Gufeng bought some cheap manuscript paper and ink.

He ate the oden and rice balls that the hotel manager had given him in the hotel's common area. He ate them while they were still steaming hot, and his stomach felt warm.

This was the first decent meal he had since he came into this world.

Back in his room, he closed the door, sat on the bed, and arranged the folding table.

That Famicom inspired him.

Speaking of games, how can we not mention Sword Art Online, the pioneering work of the VRMMORPG genre and the number one game in the 2012 "This Light Novel is Amazing!" ranking?

But Sword Art Online's concept was too ahead of its time. VR, immersive experiences, death games... these concepts sounded like fantasy in 1989.

However, what are the requirements for the Fantasy Novel Award?

We only select the most exciting and imaginative stories.

With a thought, Guan Gufeng's pen appeared in his hand, and at the same time, a panel unfolded before his eyes.

[Equipped item: Haruki Murakami's fountain pen]

[Entry Effect: Increases writing inspiration, boosts handwriting speed to 1500 words/hour]

[Permanent condition for this entry: Maintain the equipment status until a novel is completed]

He laid out the brand-new manuscript paper and placed the pen tip against the paper.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting long, thin patches of light on the floor.

I put on the "NERvGear" full-sensory VR terminal and gently closed my eyes.

"Link Start".

The moment the mechanical, electronic voice fell into my ears, the world was completely rewritten.

The pen flew across the paper.

The feeling was strange; sentences came out one after another without any thought required. The handwriting was so neat it didn't look like handwriting, and the speed was so fast it didn't look like handwriting either.

The effect of the entry is stronger than I imagined.

He didn't know how long he had been writing.

All I know is that as I wrote, my eyes started to ache and my wrists became stiff, but the next sentence kept popping into my head.

Then, he knew nothing more.

……

Guan Gufeng was awakened by hunger; his stomach felt like it was being squeezed, twitching in waves.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for three seconds before realizing where he was.

A room without windows makes it impossible to distinguish between day and night.

He groped his way up and found himself lying on the bed fully clothed, with the manuscript paper still on the table and the pen automatically returned to his inventory, which must have been removed before he lost consciousness.

He left the room and walked to the front desk in a daze.

"Excuse me, what time is it?"

The old man at the front desk glanced at the clock on the wall. "Six o'clock in the afternoon."

Judging from the looks of it, he wrote from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. the next day, writing for eight hours, and then slept for almost ten hours.

Guan Gu Feng went to the wash area and washed his face. The cool water hit his skin and instantly woke him up.

He looked at himself in the mirror; his dark circles were still there, but his complexion had improved considerably.

His stomach, which hadn't been full for a long time, his twelve hours of sleep, and his warm bed made him feel much better than when he left home yesterday.

"Ha, we've already hit rock bottom. Any slight improvement is just a rebound." Guan Gufeng chuckled self-deprecatingly, then went back to his room to pack up, took his manuscript paper, and went to the convenience store.

He calculated the time schedule on the way.

The night shift is from 8 pm to 6 am. After get off work, I go back to the hotel to sleep until noon. Then I get up and write until 7 pm before going to work.

Even if I have six hours of writing time every day, it's still a bit too little.

He glanced at the manuscript paper in his bag, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

Slacking off.

This was the most important thing he had learned from his previous life when he started working.

As long as it doesn't affect work, the store manager shouldn't say anything.

At the entrance of the convenience store, the store manager was tidying up the umbrella racks. The snow had lessened, but the ground was still wet.

"You're here?" The store manager looked up, saw him, and greeted him with a smile. "Come in, I was just about to go back."

Guan Gufeng changed into his uniform and walked into the counter. The store manager took out a bento box from behind the counter and placed it next to the microwave.

"This is for today. Just heat it up and eat it yourself. I'll come at six o'clock tomorrow morning."

He then pointed to a magazine next to the cashier, this week's Weekly Shonen Jump, with Akira Toriyama's Dragon Ball on the cover.

"When there are no customers, you can rest, read magazines, or do your own thing, just don't burn the shop down."

Guan Gufeng took the bento box, and his dissatisfaction with the 500 yen hourly wage vanished in an instant.

The store manager put on his coat, pushed open the door, and a cold wind blew in. He turned back, as if he had remembered something.

"Oh right, that thing you mentioned yesterday... up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, B, A."

"Um?"

"I tried it." The shopkeeper's expression was a little subtle. "It really gave me thirty lives. My son beat it for the first time and was so happy he almost threw the controller away."

He paused.

Thanks.

Then go.

Guan Gufeng stood behind the counter, paused for a moment, and then smiled.

Looks like I'm lucky; I've found a good boss.

Before 11 p.m., guests arrived one after another without stopping.

Cashier duties, heating up bento boxes, restocking shelves, cleaning oden pots... Guan Gufeng was so busy he barely had time to breathe.

When the flow of customers finally stopped, he glanced at the clock on the wall; it was 11:20.

He took a bottle of Pepsi Light, a sugar-free version of Pepsi, from the shelf.

He curiously opened it, took a sip, and then frowned.

It truly lives up to its reputation as one of the earliest sugar-free colas.

He took out paper and pen from his bag, laid them on the counter, and was about to write.