Urban System in America-Chapter 110 - 109: Be grateful

Rex stared at the floating interface in stunned silence.

"The fuck!?"

"Ahem...," he cleared his throat. He wasn’t shocked because of the incredible rewards and limitless possibilities—no, no. That part was great. Amazing. It wasn’t even the idea of being thrust into random careers every seven days.

No.

What really horrified him was the workload.

This... this function... this hellspawn of labor...!"

"This has to be a mistake."

He had one goal after being reborn: to live a stress-free, relaxing, carefree life. He didn’t ask for fame. He didn’t ask for chaos. He was fine with just being a rich second generation.

"I just wanted to lie down and be a carefree bastard," he muttered under his breath. "I’ve already done the whole hard working wage slave thing in my last life. I came into this life with a damn system, thinking I’d relax for once. Eat good food. Smell good. Look good. Maybe expose a corrupt professor here and there. You know—normal things."

But the system... this demonic system... wanted him to grind through careers like some overachieving intern with a caffeine addiction and just had to give him the one thing he hated the most.

"Work." He spat the word like venom.

He rubbed his temples, muttering curses that would make a sailor blush. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"System! Come out. Explain this shit. You’ve been sleeping for weeks—at least have the guts to face me now."

The voice popped into his mind, crisp and ever-so-unbothered.

"[System Online. Ahem! Host, you can’t blame me for this. The Weekly Career System is a randomly unlocked function, triggered only after you developed a consistent identity. Which you just did, congratulations. This isn’t my fault.]"

"Bullshit," Rex snapped. "Why can’t it be like other systems? I’ve read enough novels. The MCs lie down, press a button, and boom—instant rewards. No career roulette."

[This is normal—for systems that care about the host’s development. Also, you’re not being forced. You can choose to ignore the weekly job assignments. Just don’t expect any rewards.]

"Oh, so you’re saying I can not work—but I also get nothing for it. What a generous option." He gave a middle finger to the system. "Why can’t I have one of those idle cultivation systems where you sit under a waterfall and suddenly gain immortality?"

[Host, please stop being delusional. You already have a system. Be grateful. There are people out there who would kill for this opportunity.]

With that, the interface flickered out of existence, ignoring Rex’s annoyed glare and leaving behind nothing but silence and a floating countdown timer reading:

[Next Career Begins In: 5 Days, 14 Hours, 11 Minutes]

"Ridiculous," he muttered, leaning back against the headrest with a deep sigh. "Why is it so hard to live a peaceful life?"

His dream—the one where he would float through life like a pampered young master while the system showered him with passive income and cheat codes—felt like it was growing wings and flying away into the heavens. He could almost hear the angelic chorus as it vanished beyond the clouds.

"Goodbye, sweet dream," he whispered dramatically. "I will miss you."

Instead, what he got was:

—Weekly job trials

—Performance ratings like a fast-food worker

—And a sarcastic system that offered no sympathy

He opened his eyes and sighed again.

"Well, at least it doesn’t start immediately..."

He had a one-week buffer to mentally prepare, plan, maybe cry a little, and get his affairs in order.

Despite his frustration, Rex couldn’t deny it—he was curious. Excited, even. Every week, a new identity, a new challenge... It sounded ridiculous, chaotic, maybe even fun in the worst way. The kind of unpredictability that would keep him on his toes—and push him to grow in ways he couldn’t predict.

But the rewards were definitely worth it. Skills, abilities, property, even "connections and allies"? That last one intrigued him. Maybe this could be his way into bigger worlds—into circles of power, mystery, and opportunity.

Still, he had a right to sulk.

"I wanted a carefree life," he murmured as he stared blankly at the windshield. "Not a deadbeat life, sure—but this is overkill."

He reached for the ignition again, grumbling. ""I’ve already got university to deal with. I’m barely managing that. Now I’ve gotta add random careers on top? I’m going to need ten clones just to survive."

He sighed again, deeper this time, a sigh that echoed the burden of generations.

So this was his life now.

A random career every week. Challenges he couldn’t predict. Missions that would test everything he was—and probably force him to become someone new.

Rex tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, thoughtful.

On the one hand, it was exhausting. Stressful. Potentially dangerous.

On the other...

The rewards were insane.

If he played it right, he could walk away from every week stronger, smarter, wealthier, and closer to uncovering the system’s full potential.

He wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but a small part of him... was curious.

"What kind of job will it be?" he wondered aloud. "A fashion designer? A street magician? An assassin? A bodyguard for a celebrity? A kindergarten teacher?"

He paused. That last one made him shiver.

"No. Please not kids. Anything but kids."

Knowing the system’s sense of humor, he wouldn’t be surprised if it made him clean public toilets just to humble him.

Still, whatever it was, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to ignore it. Only a fool would waste such opportunities, no matter how annoying they were.

His fingers finally touched the ignition and turned the key.

The engine roared to life.

He threw the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights flickering to life as the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon, the city glowing with neon and motion.

He glanced at the rearview mirror and saw his reflection—his sleek outfit, the faint aura of confidence he hadn’t noticed before. Maybe that was what triggered the system. Maybe, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t look like a drifter pretending to be normal.

"...Guess I really have changed."

He smirked slightly. "Fashion, huh. Who would’ve thought finding your style could unlock a job lottery?"

The day had started with perfume and ended with career roulette.

He exhaled, the scent of Tropical Prism still curling from his wrist.

Whatever came next, he’d be ready.

Maybe.

Probably.

Hopefully.

"System," he muttered as he turned onto the main road, "if next week’s job involves clowns, I swear to God, I’m uninstalling you."

The system said nothing.

But no matter what, one thing was clear: this wasn’t going to be boring.

(End of Chapter)