The village had no name.
Not on any map, not in any database, not in the GPI-regulated urban planning indexes Adrian had memorized over the years.
But it was alive.
He could feel it in the way the soil gave beneath his boots. In the scent of woodsmoke curling from crooked chimneys. In the rhythm of daily life that didn't scream, didn't rush, didn't optimize — it just was.
And he didn't know how to be in it.
[New Karma Quest Active]
"Make One Person Smile (Without Lying)"
Objective: Elicit a genuine smile from a local resident.
Restrictions: Manipulation, sarcasm, and humor at another's expense will not count.
Time Limit: None.
Smiles can't be forced. They can only be invited.
Adrian stood in the dirt path at the village's edge, staring at the quest notification like it was a bomb.
Make someone smile?
He'd been a man of numbers. Metrics. Compliance. The only smiles he'd ever seen were stock images in state pamphlets or the tight-lipped grimaces of Ministry officials trying to boost morale during inspection week.
His own muscles didn't even remember how to do it.
He raised his mouth corners experimentally.
It felt alien.
Wrong.
Like a costume worn backward.
The Empathy Sense skill flickered at the edge of his vision — a soft overlay of colors above the villagers' heads as they passed.
Most were gray. Some dipped toward a faded blue. Tired. Apathetic. One old man shimmered with dull amber — resignation.
And then he saw her.
She sat on a worn stone bench near the village well. Maybe twenty. Slender frame. Work-worn hands. Eyes like overcast skies. Her aura shimmered in a fractured palette — yellow flickers trying to peek through a heavy slate of dull green. The system tagged her:
Subject: 001-B (Unnamed Villager)
Emotional Status: Hopeful / Grieving / Suspicious
Smile Probability: 2.1%
Not great odds.
But something about her sadness felt... familiar.
Adrian approached slowly.
She looked up, wary but unafraid.
"You're new," she said.
He nodded. "I think so."
"You don't talk like we do."
"I'm trying to learn."
She narrowed her eyes, not unkindly. "Everyone here's broken. What makes you different?"
"I'm trying not to be."
That made her pause.
He sat beside her, careful to leave space.
The system pulsed gently in the corner of his vision, monitoring — not pushing. It felt more like a reminder than a command.
He glanced at the well.
"I used to work for a ministry," he said.
She gave him a side glance. "What kind?"
"The kind that forgot people were people."
A beat passed.
"Sounds familiar," she muttered.
He took a slow breath. "I was good at it. Very good. I got promoted for never asking why."
"And now?"
"Now I'm trying to remember how to mean something."
They sat in silence.
A bird called from a nearby fig tree. Children shouted somewhere beyond the houses. The sky cracked open with that late afternoon color — the one that always feels like forgiveness.
The woman didn't speak again, but her fingers relaxed on her lap.
Adrian reached into his coat pocket — instinctively — and found something strange.
A folded piece of paper.
He hadn't put it there.
He opened it.
It read:
"Smiles are memories you're allowed to carry into tomorrow."
He blinked. Looked at her.
Then, quietly, he offered it without a word.
She took it. Read it once. Then again.
And for just a moment—barely perceptible—her lips curved upward.
A soft, fragile, unspectacular smile. The kind you might miss if you weren't looking for it.
But the system caught it.
✅ Karma Quest Completed: "Make One Person Smile (Without Lying)"
+100 Joy Points
Passive Skill Upgraded: Empathy Sense (Lv.2)
You can now detect suppressed emotions.
New Feature Unlocked: Happiness Journal
Track the moments that matter. Record every smile you earn. Build your archive of light.
She handed the paper back.
"Keep it," Adrian said. "I think it was meant for you."
She tucked it into her sleeve, looked away.
"My name's Rhea," she said.
Adrian smiled.
It didn't feel forced this time.
"I'm... Adrian."
She didn't respond with words. But she stood, offered him her hand, and helped him up.
And as they walked back into the heart of the village together, Adrian felt something strange click into place.
Not pride.
Not purpose.
Not even hope.
Just presence.
[Happiness Journal Entry #1 Created]
Day 1: I made someone smile. Not by fixing her. Not by impressing her. Just by being real. I don't know what I'm doing. But maybe that's the point.
– A.V.
End of Chapter 3