After Spending Money on In-Game Purchases, I Discovered my Girlfriend was a Real Person - Chapter 4

Sui Zhenxing sprawled across the sofa like a flattened pancake, indulging in a few minutes of pure idleness before she slowly summoned the game’s system interface.

She skimmed through the Personal Info and World Map tabs. Most of the map was shrouded in a thick fog of war, with only Liuli Street and its immediate surroundings illuminated in soft light. Finally, her gaze landed on a shimmering golden icon labeled Services & Extensions. The moment she tapped it, the sheer opulence of the shop nearly blinded her.

“Hiss… why is everything so expensive?!”

At the very top, the World Announcement function was priced at a staggering 500,000 star-credits. A line of small print followed: Broadcast a message to all online players and certain high-perception NPCs within the current world. Content must adhere to the world’s underlying logic. The system reserves all rights of final interpretation.

Beneath that was a warning in bright, blood-red text:

Warning: Misuse of this function may severely disrupt world operations, leading to unpredictable consequences, including but not limited to collective NPC consciousness rejection, world-view collapse, and permanent account banning. Please use with extreme caution.

Sui Zhenxing’s mouth twitched. Who would even use this? Had they been dropped on their head? This was basically the equivalent of taking a megaphone and shouting to every player and “autonomous” NPC: “Hi! I’m an outsider! I’m here to romance you or destroy your world!”

Unless someone was trying to manufacture a “Divine Descent” persona in a cultivation world or had some specific strategic goal, it was useless. For a casual player like her, who only wanted to quietly pursue her beautiful neighbor, this feature was nothing more than a gaudy ornament.

She continued scrolling down.

[Real-time Affection Notification Module: 200,000 star-credits.]

[Detailed NPC Background Dossier: Price scales based on NPC importance; starting at 100,000 star-credits.]

[World Rule Customization (Basic): Starting at 1,000,000 star-credits.]

The prices were truly “touching,” in the sense that they made her wallet ache.

She noticed that many functions were tagged with “Applicable to all worlds” or “Requires logical consistency within the current world.” The freedom in this game was high, but the price of that freedom was clearly astronomical.

A thought suddenly occurred to her: when she created her Anchor, she had only defined the profession, basic personality, and appearance. Every other detail had been automatically generated by the system. She wondered what kind of “surprises” that automation might have cooked up.

Did Wen Shuyi have any strange hidden traits? Was she afraid of the dark? Allergic to mangoes? Or… was she perhaps a secret martial arts master?

Sui Zhenxing’s fingers twitched with curiosity; she really wanted to know. However, one glance at the exorbitant price for a background dossier made her reconsider immediately. What if she found out naturally later? This game surely had other ways to drain her credits.

“Forget it. The unknown is what makes it fun. It’s only a real challenge if I have to figure it out myself,” she consoled herself, though mostly she just didn’t want to spend the money. If the base price was 100,000, a key NPC like Wen Shuyi would likely cost significantly more.

Then, she spotted a greyed-out, unselectable feature: Inner Voice Deciphering. It was marked as Under Development; Please Look Forward to It, with no price even listed.

Mind-reading? She had played cultivation games with mind-reading mechanics before. It was novel at first to know when an NPC was thinking, “This girl is terrifyingly powerful,” or “What a beauty,” but the novelty wore off fast. When everything became transparent, the joy of guessing and the thrill of the “test” vanished. It made the whole experience feel dreadfully artificial.

thought

She could not help but wonder what the “Inner Voice” feature in Empty Moon would actually be like. If the NPCs truly possessed autonomous consciousness as the advertisements claimed, would the deciphered thoughts be a genuine, messy tangle of reflections, or would they simply be polished scripts pre-written by the system? If it were the former, the level of sophistication in this game was truly staggering.

Moving on, she located the Time Flow Adjustment settings, which proved to be an incredibly practical feature. The system offered several presets but also allowed for full customization. Since she could not spend every waking moment in the game and had to manage her two mothers’ expectations along with her manga deadlines in the real world, she opted for a custom ratio.

1 real-world minute = 60 virtual minutes.

With this setting, the time it took her to eat a meal in reality would account for more than half a day in the game, ensuring she would not miss too much of the unfolding narrative. When she was ready to log out, she planned to flip the ratio so that 60 real-world minutes = 1 virtual minute. This way, time in the game would essentially stand still while she was away, preventing any situation where her long absence might raise Wen Shuyi’s suspicions.

Though they had only met once as neighbors and had not even added each other as digital contacts yet, Sui Zhenxing was already calculating these long-term details in her head.

“I should probably buy a notification service too, just in case.”

Muttering to herself, she browsed the expansion features and selected a mid-priced System Assistant. The description promised cross-world messaging and notifications for major events. With this active, she would receive an alert in the real world if anything significant happened in the game, such as Wen Shuyi coming to find her or an issue arising with her in-game job. It offered a great deal of peace of mind.

Sui Zhenxing verified her biometric information with practiced ease. She felt no particular emotion as she watched the star-credits vanish from her balance; in fact, she simply wanted to stay slumped where she was for a while longer. On a whim, she also purchased a Basic Briefing for World 734, treating it as an introductory guide for beginners.

The data indicated that the overall technological level of this world lagged roughly a century behind her own reality. This explained the powerful sense of deja vu she felt, as many of the technologies here mirrored those found in history books or vintage trends, differing only in their refinement and maturity. For instance, the door locks in this neighborhood relied on systems that had been replaced generations ago in her world by more secure iris and pupil recognition.

The system had been remarkably thorough, even preparing a complete set of identity documents and funds for her role as a “freelance manga artist.” When she checked her in-game bank account, she found a substantial deposit along with a note explaining that monthly royalties would be credited regularly. The amount was perfectly calculated to simulate the financial reality of a mid-to-low income artist.

“This level of detail is almost frightening.”

Sui Zhenxing surveyed the elegantly decorated and fully equipped house. The bookshelves were lined with manga and literature from this world, and her drawing desk was cluttered with sketches that appeared to be her own work. She picked up a sheet to examine it, noting that while the style was familiar, the technique and narrative composition were visibly more amateurish than her actual skills.

It seemed the system had managed to simulate even that nuance.

She also found a communication device that people in this world called a “mobile phone.” After playing with it for a few minutes, she found its operating logic quite similar to her personal terminal in the real world, allowing her to master it quickly. While she was fiddling with the device, a calendar reminder suddenly popped up: Tomorrow at 10:00 AM, Studio Meeting. Remember to bring the latest storyboard drafts.

Sui Zhenxing fell silent. Even in a virtual world, she could not escape the fate of chasing deadlines.

Ultimately, she decided that while running away might be shameful, it was certainly effective, so she pushed the thought of work to the back of her mind.

“Well, I’m getting hungry. It’s time to refuel. I’ll go out for a walk and see what there is to eat.”

She changed into a casual T-shirt and trousers before checking her reflection in the hallway mirror. The girl in the glass had long, straight black hair, pale skin, and soft features. Her eyes were a bit brighter following her recent exploration, yet her fundamental aura remained languid and relaxed.

She looked like a well-behaved, quiet, and perhaps even slightly timid girl next door. Despite her slight adjustments to make her eyes look less innocent, the overall impression remained much the same unless she made a conscious effort to look angry. This was perfect for the persona she intended to maintain.

Sui Zhenxing pushed open the door and stepped out with her hands in her pockets, her fingers brushing against the local currency provided by the system. She then wandered slowly into the deepening night of Liuli Street. Her goal was simply to find a place to fill her stomach. As for the storyboard drafts due tomorrow, she would deal with those when the time came.

Support After Spending Money on In-Game Purchases, I Discovered my Girlfriend was a Real Person