Chapter 1: What the Hell Is a Cthulhu System?

Seattle, a gathering spot for homeless people.

"Hiss!"

When Roger woke from his dream, his whole body ached, every part of him uncomfortable. He had read way too many novels in the online library—ttks. tw, take your pick.

He rubbed his arms, then rubbed his groggy head, and clambered painfully out of the dark-blue tent.

But when he clearly saw the unfamiliar surroundings he was in, the filthy clothes on his own body, and the jumbled mess of plastic bottles, food wrappers, and toilet paper, his mind went blank.

"Wait, where the hell did you dump me? Is this even still in the country?"

Roger instinctively felt his own body, found it intact with no wounds—didn't look like someone had cut out his kidney and dumped him.

But how had he suddenly ended up sleeping in a homeless man's tent?

Just as he was puzzling over it, his brain suddenly felt like an overfull sphincter, and a bunch of bizarre, surreal memories burst out from inside.

A few minutes later, having digested all the memories, Roger muttered to himself: "So I hit the jackpot, but why didn't you send me to another world instead of Meilijian!"

"Hellish start!"

Roger was heartsick, wishing he could just restart the run on the spot.

Because he had fully grasped how dire his own situation was.

In short, the original owner, Roger, was a mixed Asian-American struggling in the lower-middle class. He'd originally opened a small supermarket in Washington State with an inheritance from his parents, but because of his bros' zero-dollar shopping sprees, he suffered heavy losses and had to close the supermarket and go work for others.

But saddled with the quadruple debuff of car loans, mortgage, property tax, and student loans, even working three jobs a day, toiling fourteen hours, he still couldn't make his payments on time.

In the end, with his wallet bone dry, he triggered the Execution Line—his house was taken, his car was taken, and his remaining assets were taken by his girlfriend on the grounds of breakup compensation, and he helplessly ended up on the street.

And right now, it was his second month as a homeless man.

At first he could still keep up a clean and tidy appearance on the surface, but now, that once slightly handsome, dependable, hardworking young man had turned into a stubbly, hollow-bellied wretch who only had the energy to scrounge for food.

"Sigh."

Roger let out a deep breath, feeling his future was pitch black.

He then pulled up his sleeve, and when he saw no needle marks on his arm, he breathed a sigh of relief.

This was the one thing he was better at than those other homeless people—no drugs, no needles, at least he could still keep his human shape and his sanity.

Roger lay dazed on the pillow he'd piled out of clothes, muttering to himself:

"By the way, System-bro, you there? If you are, squeak once?"

"Squeak squeak!"

Roger sprang up, only to find a fat rat was carrying off a chip bag through a gap in the tent.

"Fuck you!"

He got a fright, grabbed the bottle in his hand and threw it.

The rat seemed used to it, not afraid of people at all, nimbly dodged the water bottle, then kept carrying the bag away.

Roger could only helplessly flip the bird: "Damned Meilijian rats."

But the next second.

【Detected: an Investigator currently exploring and surviving in a Cthulhu world crawling with evil gods】

【Intelligence system binding…】

"Hm?" Roger heard an unfamiliar mechanical voice in his ear and was overjoyed.

"I knew System-bro wouldn't abandon me."

"But what the hell is a Cthulhu world?"

"Maybe it's some kind of adjective?"

"System-bro probably wouldn't make a mistake, right?"

Although a little puzzled, the excitement was running his head, and he couldn't help looking forward to it.

In the future, maybe he could lean on this cheat to successfully marry a rich beauty, become a darling of capital, and reach the pinnacle of life.

Pfft!

Roger suddenly sobered up.

In this life, daddy doesn't want any damned romance.

He had already seen clearly the hateful true face of those exquisite European-American women.

When dating they demand returns, when breaking up they demand compensation.

Screw it, if he had money, he'd rather find a few sexy girls on the street and throw a party. Toss them a little extra tip, and they'd be so grateful they'd drag their girlfriends into his arms—so why bother suffering through love!

Just as he was thinking this, footsteps suddenly came from outside the tent, followed by a young woman's voice.

"Roger, are you awake?"

Who?

Roger thought for a moment, recalling the owner of the voice.

Then he pulled open the tent flap, looked at the big-chested brown-haired girl standing in front of him, backlit by the sun, and greeted her: "Hey, Zoe, good morning."

The Zoe before him was a new friend Roger had made during this stretch, also a caregiver girl who had only just entered the homeless life not long ago.

From what she'd told him, she was fired by her supervisor because she was late, and the supervisor had failed to sexually harass her.

As a result, she hadn't found any formal work for the next three months, and could only pick up odd jobs.

In the end, because she had no money to pay rent, she was kicked out by her landlord and had no choice but to join the ranks of the homeless.

But Zoe was an optimistic girl; every day she actively looked for work, and often urged Roger not to be down, to go look for work with her.

But Roger, after the blows of these past few months, had completely lost his drive, just wanted to let himself drift and die, and hadn't really paid her much attention.

Just as he was thinking this, Zoe—wearing a white low-cut camisole that pushed her black shirt up to an extremely full figure, her legs wrapped in jeans—asked: "Going to get breakfast?"

"Yes, of course."

Roger crawled out of the tent, then seemed to remember something and hurriedly zipped up his fly.

"Reward yourself less, it's bad for your health." Zoe teased.

Roger knew the white girl was fierce, but he didn't expect her to be this blunt—but it wasn't him doing the rewarding!

Forced to take the fall, he could only cough twice and change the subject:

"Ahem, let's go. Where's breakfast today?"

"Still the middle of Third Avenue." Zoe scrolled through her phone as she complained: "Those dry bricks of bread they hand out taste like chewing my grandma's slippers—makes me want to puke."

"Didn't expect you to have that kind of kink." Roger teased back.

Zoe flipped him the middle finger.

Not long ago, the Federal Government had just canceled food stamp distribution, leaving large numbers of homeless unable to get food. Many, starving, started the zero-dollar-shopping spree, smashing up plenty of stores.

But even so, the homeless still had a hard time getting full, having to hop between multiple relief stations every day to collect food.

Not to mention plenty of housewives from Black communities had also joined the queues at the relief stations.

So hustling for food was getting tougher by the day.

The two chatted as they hurried around the street corner toward the breakfast distribution point. Before long, they spotted a long line already formed.

"Well, looks like we're stuck with leftovers again."

Roger didn't sound too bothered—after all, he was about to unlock the system.

Just kidding! Surely he wouldn't starve to death even with a system, right?

Zoe, on the other hand, looked anxious, arms folded across her chest, her fingertips absently twirling her hair.

"You have a job interview later?" Roger asked.

"Yep, damn it. How much longer do we have to wait? I don't want to go on an empty stomach." Zoe groaned: "Last time my stomach growled during the interview—that's why they turned me down."

"But didn't you eat a huge slice of pizza last night?" Roger started to say, then suddenly caught sight of her chest squeezed into an exaggerated shape by her arms, and changed his tune: "Alright, you do need to eat a bit more."

Right at that moment, the system's prompt finally arrived.

【Binding Successful】

【Intelligence System Activated】

【Investigator, please check】

Wahoo! Awesome!

Roger cheered inside, unable to suppress a grin, and silently chanted to open it.

But the first thing he saw was an introduction.

【Welcome to this world, Investigator.】

【What you stand upon is not a reality ruled by reason and order—that is merely a fragile veneer. Beneath it lies a cruel and indifferent dark jungle. In the city's shadows, the abandoned corners of the countryside, and the cracks of forgotten history, uncanny events keep breeding. Whispers, monsters, forbidden rituals, and unspeakable things appear one after another. Most choose to look away, but you will face these truths head-on and uncover the truth behind them.】

Hold on, wait a minute!

Roger's face stiffened. He stared wide-eyed, looking at the anxious homeless around him waiting for breakfast, then at the boundless blue sky and white clouds.

System bro, you've lost your mind!

What the hell is a Cthulhu system?!

You were supposed to give me a tycoon system!

Or a minion-summoning system would work too!

You've got to give me either power or money!

But the system ignored his complaints and continued in all seriousness:

【Intel: The Man Who Talks to Dogs】

【Late at night, a witness claimed that at the intersection of Third Avenue and Clay Street, a man was whispering with a stray dog. His words were strange and incomprehensible. The witness said he looked dazed, as if communicating with a non-human entity. Investigator is to investigate within the allotted time.】

【Reward upon investigation: Skill 'Anchor Point', Ancient God's Bronze Coin ×1, $50】

"What the f*ck."

Roger frantically scratched his hair.

What to do—system bro got the wrong world.

Can it be changed? Online and waiting, kinda urgent.