Chapter 1: In this life, there is nothing I fear—except ghosts.

“My name is Chen Kun.”

“In my life, I fear nothing—except ghosts.”

...

In this bustling city, sunlight poured generously over every corner. The faint blare of car horns drifted in through the window, but it did nothing to relax Chen Kun, who sat rigid and tense in the office building. Sweat pooled in his palms, breath shallow and quick.

A sense of impending doom lingered, haunting his thoughts.

“My rent is due in seven days. I need to find a way to earn some points fast, or the landlord will take back the apartment, and if I’m out at night, it’ll be the end of me.”

“Don’t even mention it. My grandmother has dementia. Last night, while we slept, she slipped out the door, and today she hasn’t come back. Who knows where she died.”

“My place is in a bad neighborhood. Every night I hear all sorts of strange noises. I’ve got to make money and move to a better home.”

It was noon.

The office workers, while tapping away at their phones to order lunch, chatted about topics that made one’s skin crawl. Normally, conversations at this time would center around what to eat, with someone inevitably exclaiming, “Wow, you’re loaded, ordering something so expensive!”—that would be the usual, light-hearted office banter.

But today, the atmosphere felt all wrong.

...

His name was Chen Kun, twenty-five years old.

This was his first day in this world.

The good news: before he crossed over, he had been strapped to a gurney, awaiting execution by lethal injection. In a way, arriving here meant he’d narrowly escaped death—a second chance at life.

The bad news: this world was rife with the bizarre and supernatural, and the one thing that terrified him was ghosts.

By day, everything appeared normal, but when darkness fell, all manner of spirits and monsters roamed the city. Only by staying inside could people hope for basic safety; venturing out at night was practically suicide—if anything, dying would be easier.

What truly astonished him was that this world had been this way for decades, and despite the constant pressure, society still managed to function. He couldn’t help but admit: the law enforcement here must be exceptionally capable.

This was his first day in this world—and, in all likelihood, it could very well be his last.

Although his colleagues chatted in the office, their gazes kept drifting toward him, as if watching or monitoring his every move.

On his desk lay a red card.

“Newcomer Chen Kun, welcome to this world.”

“Good luck.”

Yes, everyone around him knew he was a traveler from another world, and no one seemed surprised. With such a high mortality rate, unemployment and pension worries were a thing of the past, but population decline was a looming crisis. Birth rates had long fallen below death rates; not exactly a sustainable situation.

Fortunately, a solution had emerged quickly.

After the supernatural descended, numerous travelers from Blue Star began to appear.

At first, the government was stunned, but soon adapted, welcoming these arrivals to offset the excessive death rate. With incentives like point rewards for having children, they managed to stem the population loss.

Travelers from Blue Star arrived physically, not just in spirit. Once the arrival points were identified, every new traveler was immediately found and briefed on the world’s rules.

This company specialized in that task.

They were responsible for locating travelers and introducing them to this world. For each successfully oriented traveler, the company received a certain amount of points from the government.

Just then—

“Hello, Chen Kun.”

A stylish woman in business attire, radiating a mature allure, stepped out of her private office and approached his desk. With a bright smile, she said, “My colleague should have given you a basic introduction to this world. I can see you’re already adapting far better than most newcomers.”

“Especially when hearing things you’d never encountered before, you remain remarkably calm.”

“I believe you’re destined to accomplish great things.”

“...Is that so?” Chen Kun forced a smile, his voice hoarse. “It doesn’t sound so bad, actually.”

He was already thinking about buying charcoal, weighing whether he ought to start over right away. For someone afraid of ghosts, facing them at night was a fate worse than death. Better to embrace the end now.

“This is the latest player’s wristwatch, which arrived in the world alongside the supernatural phenomena a few years ago. Market price: three hundred points. But for new arrivals like you, the government provides one free of charge—since you don’t have any points to your name.”

“The watch contains your basic information, including your point balance, similar to a bank account on your planet. All future income and expenses will go through this device.”

“Additionally, the watch instantly detects your fear levels, giving a value from one to one hundred percent, so your companions can gauge your state at any time. In many situations, this is crucial—they need to know if your mind is sound.”

“The watch is bio-powered. As long as you’re alive, it stays on. After death, it remains in standby mode for up to twenty-four hours. You’ll never need to worry about the battery—most of the time, it’ll outlast you.”

“My contact details are in the watch. If you ever need anything, just reach out~”

As she spoke, she swept her hair back, leaned in, and let her breath brush his neck, gently strapping the watch onto his wrist and activating it.

In the next moment—

A crimson light flashed across his wristwatch, followed by a string of numbers.

—

“Fear Level: 52%.”

—

“...”

The woman, who had just been leaning in with a dazzling smile and exuding charm, straightened in silence upon seeing the display. She tossed an A4 sheet onto the desk, her tone nonchalant: “Sign this, and you’re free to leave the company.”

She had thought his composure signaled an innate lack of fear toward the supernatural—a trait that often marked future prodigies. That was why she’d tried to draw closer.

Who could have guessed... he was paralyzed with terror.

A 52% fear level—higher even than most citizens facing a ghost head-on.

Returning to her private office, she silently wrote her evaluation on a form bearing Chen Kun’s name:

“Grade E talent. Leave to his own fate.”

Part of her job was to assign a grade based on the newcomer’s fear level after their orientation, then issue a corresponding starter kit.

An initial fear level of 1%-5% earned an S grade and a government start-up grant of ten thousand points, deposited straight into the watch.

Those with 5%-10% received an A grade and five thousand points.

For S, A, and even B grade talents, the points were only a small incentive. The real benefit was immediate recruitment, which provided far greater safety and potential than going it alone.

As for those with a starting fear level above 50%, they were labeled E grade—the lowest. They received only a symbolic hundred points as a starter aid. Such newcomers rarely lasted more than a few days and were considered unworthy of investment.

To achieve anything in this world, one needed a heart big enough to withstand terror.

Only then could you hope to stay rational when facing the supernatural and make the right choices.

After all, if just hearing about these things sent your fear above 50%, what would happen when you actually saw them? You’d likely be scared out of your wits.

As for this newcomer...

She couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name. It wouldn’t be long before his profile picture in her computer turned gray—a sign he hadn’t made it.

She had to admit—

In all her years on the job, this was the first time she’d seen someone with such a high fear level at the very start. In terms of rarity, it was almost on par with the S grades.