The person Ephraim had chosen was a newer to the missioioment, just like himself. Before falling into misfortune in his seission world, Jiang Yi had been an ordinary employee from the 'Protagonist Persoment'.

  Those from that department were unlike any others. Their task was to embody the protagonists of each story world—characters whose very existence seemed to bend the flow of fate around them. Much like how there were people in life who carried the illusion that the world revolved around them, the members of the 'Protagonist Persoment' lived out that truth as their reality. Whether they stood at the tre of fortune edy, the world would always turn with them at its heart.

  Unfortunately, Jiang Yi's mission assig had pced him at the very tre of misfortune.

  The body he had taken over was a young man named Xun Jinyao.

  Xun Jinyao... just hearing the name alone could make someone's heart feel heavy.

  If there were rankings for the most pitiful protagonists in the mission system's archives, Xun Jinyao would be a sistent top-three tender —if not the ht champion.

  Born into poverty, orpha a young age, with no family to rely on—he was a musiservatory student who harboured the simplest yet most unreachable dream: to stand oion's gra stage and sing the songs he wrote with his own hands. But the heavens were cruel, and dreams required a price.

  The t tuition fees of his prestigious school drained what little savings he had. To survive, Xun Jinyao had to patch together his life with endless part-time jobs—w himself to exhaustion until his limbs trembled and his eyelids grew heavy. The few hours of sleep he snatched between shifts were more like shallos tha.

  A tragic protagonist through and through.

  Ephraim had skimmed through Jiang Yi's data file once before. The moment he saw the name Xun Jinyao, his first thought had been: Damn, they really didn't give this guy a single way out, huh?

  With that kind of setting, anyone would want to fight fate ae their own story.

  However, there was only so much hard work could achieve in a world built for the rid fortunate.

  Hence, Xun Jinyao had lost hope along the way. When things seemed their bleakest aood on the verge of dropping out of school, fate intervened. He met Wang Jianyuan while w as a waiter at one of the gras for the rid powerful.

  Wang Jianyuan was the young head of the Wang family—a powerful family that led a series of businesses, especially iertai sector. At that time, Xun Jinyao had been ing one of the tables in the er, unknowingly humming to himself, when Wang Jianyuan approached him.

  From that point on, Xun Jinyao's life took a turn for the better. Wang Jianyuan helped him pay for his school fees and introduced him to insiders iertai business. Slowly but surely, Xun Jinyao began to nd good gigs and embark on a steady rise to stardom.

  Xun Jinyao was immensely grateful, stantly insisting on repaying Wang Jianyuan—both the money he had spent and the kindness he had shown. Along the way, Xun Jinyao fell deeply in love with the powerful man.

  However, by the time they entered into a retionship, life once again began to skew off course.

  Wang Jianyuan, possessive and trolling, gradually had Xun Jinyao withdraw from the very path he had set him oed the idea of ling Xun Jinyao. Instead of nurturing his career, he spent more time g Xun Jinyao as his own. He moved him into his house, dictated what he wore, what he ate—every aspect of his life fell under Wang Jianyuan's and.

  Yet, hopelessly in love, Xun Jinyao went along with it. Even when Wang Jianyuan's friends mocked him and his family despised him, Xun Jinyao remained tent simply to stay by the man's side.

  Until one day, a figure from Wang Jianyuan's past returo the try.

  His name was Ling Xiaoyu — a beloved singer whose popurity had never waned. With delicate features and a voice that could tug at the heartstrings of millions, he was the white moonlight that Wang Jianyuan could tain.

  And then, as if dictated by fate, the story followed the most cliché trajectory.

  It turned out that the reason Wang Jianyuan had sought out Xun Jinyao in the first pce was because of the uny resembnce he bore to Ling Xiaoyu. From the very start, Xun Jinyao had merely been a substitute—a pale imitation of a love that had long since slipped through Wang Jianyuan's fingers. The possessiveness, the trol, even the way Wang Jianyuan chose Xun Jinyao's clothes—everything had been an attempt to mould him into the shadow of another.

  Wheruth finally came to light, it was as if the thin veneer of warmth that Xun Jinyao had g to all along had been cruelly stripped away.

  Rage simmered beh the surface—both in Xun Jinyao, who realized he had ruly been loved, and in Ling Xiaoyu, who couldn't bear to see the obedient pdog he had once sed being something more than a pitiful admirer of someone else.

  Schemes unfolded, some orchestrated by Ling Xiaoyu's deft hands, some by others. Rumours spread. Opportunities vanished. Xun Jinyao found himself gradually isoted—his oeady rise to stardom crumblih his feet.

  Day by day, his world narrowed. His songs—once full of light—turned mournful. His eyes dimmed. Depression ed around him like a thick shroud, suffog every st shred of hope. It was not just his dreams that had been taken from him, but his very sense of self.

  In the end, when there was nothio lose, Xun Jinyao chose to end it all.

  Yet the cruel farce did here.

  With Xun Jinyao gone, Ling Xiaoyu finally cimed Wang Jianyuan for himself. But life oftehe most ironic of tricks—what was onattainable no longer seemed so precious.

  Only in the deafening silence left behind did Wang Jianyuan realize who had truly occupied his heart.

  Grief ed him. The once powerful man desded into madness, bming Ling Xiaoyu for everything. Wang Jianyuan first orchestrated an act that resulted in the death of Ling Xiaoyu's only family, and protector, his elder sister. He then tore apart the singer's reputation, dragging him from the height of fame to the depths of ruin. Finally, through a series of maations, he had Ling Xiaoyu itted to a mental hospital—where the singer who had onahe adoration of thousands found himself lost among fotten souls.

  But retribution, it seemed, was not yet finished.

  In one of the hospital's chaotiights—wheients' restlessurhe ward into a bedm—Ling Xiaoyu's life came to an abrupt, tragid.

  And not long after, Wang Jianyuan followed, bidding farewell to the mortal realm with the weight ret pressing heavily on his soul.

  The first half of this sordid tale was gleaned from Jiang Yi's data, as his mission had ehere.

  The sed half... Ephraim had seen for himself—etched in the fragmented, lingering memories of Ling Xiaoyu.

  [Ephraim: How? He didn't live that life yet—how could he know what would happen to him?]

  [Rachel: When the glitch occurred, the timelines of skewered worlds with trapped individuals kept regressing over and over, f the story to reset until the plot was set on track. Some people in those worlds—especially missioioners—possess higher spiritual energy than ordinary people. That residual energy leaves traces on the world itself. Those with tempered sciousness are more proo retaining fragments of past cycles.]

  [Ephraim: Oh... Poor Xiaoyu. He suffered so much. It must be harsh, remembering such a life.]

  [Rachel: There's o pity him. When Xiaoyu willingly surrendered his body to the system, we transferred him to his new life. I checked the tral space's data during the memory extra process—he's been reborn into a peaceful tryside family with kind middle-aged parents who spoil him rotten. Those who relinquish their bodies no longer wish to linger in this world. In exge, we boost their karma points and grant them a life befitting their merits. Along with that... we fulfill their final regrets. Xiaoyu's bad karma had already beeled—if anything, he suffered far more than he deserved.]

  [Ephraim: Oh... that's nice... Wait. Fulfill their final regrets?]

  [Rachel: It's not mandatory. However, fulfilling final regrets earns double the karma points of a regur mission. And did I mention karma points be exged in the tral space's digital store? Not just for luxuries, but also for skills.]

  [Ephraim: Ooooh. Oh my gosh. So sneaky. The main mission is noiable, but the regret mission is ed up so sweetly that no one in their right mind would ever reject it... That's dht vilinous!]

  [Rachel: Speaking of which, would you like to see your current points? You access them through your virtual window.]

  Ephraim followed Rachel's instru, summoning the system window by recalling the data loaded into his mind ba the tral space. The translut blue window flickered into view—a small interface the size of a Pdow, suspended midair.

  At the top was a list of options, arranged from most to least used. The first was 'Stats', followed by 'Iory', 'tral Space Digital Store', and a long list of other features.

  His fiwitched, itg to explore the store, but Rachel's gentle voice reminded him to check his karma points first—window-shopping with empty pockets would only break his heart.

  Relutly, he selected 'Stats'. A new window unfolded before him:

  [Name: Ephraim Larkspur

  ID: 8133105-9349

  Grade: D

  System Partner: Rachel Butterfield

  Allowed Mission Worlds: C, D, E

  Karma Points: -20 / 100

  Skills:

  Stealth: (63/100)

  Marksmanship: (89/100)

  Knife Skills: (65/100)

  Martial Arts: (50/100)

  Ag: (70/100)

  Cooking: (55/100)

  First Aid: (35/100)

  Disguising: (65/100)

  Sense of Surroundings: (40/100)

  Current Wrade: E

  Current Mission Target: Jiang Yi

  Current Body: Ling Xiaoyu]

  Ephraim's brow slowly lifted, his lips pursing into a soft pout.

  [Ephraim: Well... the karma points... it's nothing I didn't expect... But the skill set... that's quite humbling... I thought I was better than that.]

  [Rachel: First of all, love, that's an exceptional level for each skill—quite unon for new recruits. And sedly, if we were only paring you to your world, you'd be at the peak. You were amazing back there, babe. But now you're a person of the tral space, measured against other missioioners. In this realm, such disparity is only natural.]

  Ephraim's pout deepehe ers of his lips tugging down in grievance. He had barely begun to stew in self-pity when the sound of approag footsteps echoed from the corridor.

  His heart gave a jolt. Without missing a beat, he threw himself bato the bed, curling into the sheets. A low, pitiful groan escaped his lips—half ving, half theatrical—as if he were still ihroes of unbearable pain.