chapter 3

As the weight of the system's revelations settled on his shoulders, Liú Zhēn—or rather, Mèng Yīchéng—let out a long, exhausted sigh. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and left out in the rain.

"Fine," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I get it. I can't do anything about it. But can I at least have a little time to process this? Maybe half a day to... I don't know, pretend this isn't happening?"

Angella's voice chirped in, as gratingly perky as ever. "Host, what's there to process? You've been given a mission, and it's not like you have any other options anyway."

The system followed up, its mechanical tone devoid of sympathy. [Host, inactivity will only delay your progress. You should get started immediately.]

Mèng Yīchéng pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you both for the uplifting reminder of my grim fate. But please, I'm begging you—just give me half a day to pull myself together. I promise I'll get to work after that."

Angella huffed. "Fine, Host. I'll listen to my superior."

The system begrudgingly agreed. [There is a provision within the system for rest. Since humans fatigue so quickly, you may take the allotted time.]

Yīchéng rolled his eyes. "Oh, thank you, mighty overlords. Such generosity." Then, with a frown, he added, "By the way, can I just have one of you nagging me at a time? The two of you together are like an irritating duet I didn't ask for."

Angella giggled. "No problem, Host! From now on, I'll be your one and only guide. Are you happy now?"

He gave her a sarcastic thumbs-up. "Ecstatic. Can't you tell?"

...****************...

The room finally fell silent, the absence of voices a balm to his frayed nerves.

Yīchéng tried to process what had just happened, but the sheer absurdity of it all pressed down on him like a boulder. He hated it.

All his life, he had been a kid from an ordinary family. Sure, he was lazy and practically useless, but no one ever controlled him. His parents were strict, but they never restricted his freedom, and he, in turn, never did anything reckless or absurd to hurt them-aside from stubbornly refusing to study.

But here? A broken system was now dictating his every move. Not just his actions but even his behavior and voice. He never asked for this.

No matter how uncertain the road ahead, he couldn't afford to let this go unchecked. He needed to finish what was required of him, survive, and get rid of this system. Consider it repayment for this second chance at life.

Finally, unable to stay still, Yīchéng rolled out of bed and tried to stand. His legs wobbled like jelly beneath him, and before he could stop himself, he collapsed onto the floor in an unceremonious heap.

He ended up kneeling on the cold, hard ground, his forehead pressed against the floor like a disgraced emperor begging for forgiveness. "Mom, Dad," he croaked, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to check out this early, okay? It's not like I had a death wish! It was the puddle-blame the damn puddle!"

His voice cracked as tears streamed down his face. "Take care of my siblings, alright? Make sure they don't screw up like I did. And Mom, stop nagging about my grades. Guess what? None of that matters when you're dead."

He sniffled, wiping his nose on the absurdly long sleeve of his robe. The fabric, a deep shade of midnight blue, flared out around his wrist, almost as if it had a life of its own. "I've got a new life now, apparently. Don't worry about me... wherever I am."

For a moment, he stayed like that, the silence around him amplifying the rawness of his words.

Finally dragging himself upright, Yīchéng decided to test his legs again. They wobbled beneath him, but this time, he managed to stay upright. He shuffled toward the mirror on the other side of the room, catching his reflection for the first time.

What stared back at him was undeniably a masterpiece sculpted by the heavens.

He leaned closer, scrutinizing his reflection with a mix of awe and exasperation. Now, he probably understood what those novel descriptions meant when it said "Sword-like eyebrows, phoenix eyes, and a nose so straight it could cut steel." This face could win wars just by showing up, he thought with a dry chuckle.

Yīchéng groaned, running a hand through his absurdly silky hair. "So, this is what I'm working with? The heavens really went all out on this protagonist look. Too bad they stuck it on me."

He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "But right now? It looks a little pale, sickly, and baby-faced. Give it a few years, though, and this kid could outshine the heavens. Figures-of course the protagonist has to look like this."

Straightening up, he brushed his hair back with an air of resignation. "Young gongzi of the Mèng family, huh?" He ran a hand down the side of his face, marveling at how absurdly smooth his skin was despite its pallor. "More like a fraud forced to babysit villains."

He chuckled, the sound laced with bitterness. "So much for being the protagonist. All those novels made it sound like a dream-power, adventure, endless adoration. But no one ever mentions the pressure to be a saint, to carry the weight of the world like some overworked donkey."

He had conveniently forgotten that he was the one who had argued protagonist got it all and that the author was biased in their favor.

Leaning against the gilded frame of the mirror, he sighed. "And here I am, stuck with a villain-biased system in a protagonist-biased story. If this isn't irony, I don't know what is."

He glanced around the room, its large space filled with beautiful, humble decor that mocked his plight. The intricate embroidery on the curtains, the delicate trinkets casually arranged on the shelves-it all whispered of tranquility and control. Yet none of it did anything to calm his frayed nerves. The serene atmosphere, so effortlessly crafted, only seemed to highlight how out of place he felt.

"Maybe I should've studied harder. Slept earlier. Avoided puddles like they were cursed traps. Damn it, this is what I get for being a lazy ass."

He let his forehead fall against the cool surface of the mirror. For a moment, he stared into his own mesmerizing reflection, feeling utterly out of place in such a perfect shell.

"New life, new me. Yeah, right." He snorted, his breath fogging up the mirror. "Someone just kill me again."

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