Alex's eyes snapped open.
The cold white ceiling above greeted him like an old enemy. He was still in that same sterile, dreamlike room, lying naked on the bed.
His gaze shifted sideways — and there she was.
The same white-haired woman, reclining casually beside him. Her unnervingly large blue eyes shimmered like galaxies, filled with childlike innocence. Too pure, too delicate — like a porcelain doll that somehow participated in a very adult horror show just hours earlier.
'So that wasn't a dream after all,' Alex thought grimly, glancing down to confirm he was still very much naked.
'Yeah. Definitely not a dream.'
He remembered it all now. The relentless heat, the gasps, the twisted euphoria. They'd both reached climax not once or twice — but over twenty times. Maybe thirty. He'd lost count somewhere between the fifth blackout and the sixth scream.
His chest rose with a deep sigh — only to jolt when he felt a hand slide across it.
Pale fingers glided lazily over his skin.
Without hesitation, Alex smacked her hand away and sat up, rubbing his temples.
"Who the fuck are you?" he growled — not out of anger, but out of sheer mental exhaustion.
The surrealness of it all was melting his sanity like ice in boiling oil.
The woman simply smiled.
Then, she stood up — slow, deliberate, like she had all the time in the world and enjoyed wasting his. Her bare figure moved toward him, hips swaying with maddening rhythm, voice syrupy and teasing.
"Why don't you guess~?"
Alex didn't.
He wasn't in the mood for riddles or seductive games. His red eyes burned with quiet fury as he stared at her — cold, unblinking. One wrong word, and he looked like he'd shatter her spine just to make a point.
She noticed. And wisely, she backed off — slightly.
Still smirking, she gave a graceful bow. Her oversized chest bounced unapologetically as she did so, which under any other circumstance might have been amusing.
"I'm the system assigned to you," she said sweetly. Then, with a wicked smile, she added,
"The one you called 'Motherfucker'."
Alex blinked, not expecting that answer.
'Wait… when did I—'
'?!!'
Then it hit him.
The glitching screen. The sudden voice. That damn interface that popped up back in his room. And the cursing (which he did).
His jaw tightened.
'SHE'S that motherfucking system?!'
He clenched his fists, mentally reeling, before forcing himself to exhale and reel it in. He'd been through worse. Much worse.
He took a breath and began sorting through the chaos in his head.
'Okay... I got back from training, went to my room, started talking shit like usual... Then bam, system notification. I cursed it out. Screen glitched. Next thing I know, I'm neck-deep in a hallucination of my past life, drowning in trauma, only to wake up in this room, and fuck this bitch.'
His eye twitched.
The woman — the "system" — was now idly playing with her long snow-white hair, like this whole mess was some romantic comedy.
"So… was it you who brought me here?" he asked, even though the answer was painfully obvious.
She shook her head. "Oh no, not me." Her tone turned airy. "The entity brought you here. I'm just the system. Your... assistant, if you will. Designed to fulfill your every need."
Alex narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the way she said that.
"You refused to accept me," she continued, "and... well, after you called the entity a few rude names, they decided you needed a small punishment."
Silence.
Then Alex erupted.
"SMALL?! THAT BASTARD NEARLY GAVE ME PTSD FROM MY OLD TRAUMA!"
His voice cracked the stillness of the room. The air felt heavier, darker.
The woman flinched — her playful demeanor faltering for the first time. She clearly hadn't expected that reaction.
"I… I didn't know," she said quietly. "Whatever happened to you… it must have been bad."
Alex said nothing. Just stared, breathing heavily, eyes filled with shadows.
She tried to salvage the mood with a nervous smile.
"Well… I mean… it could've been worse, right?"
Alex's expression remained unchanged.
Then, finally — a scoff, dry and bitter.
"Sure. Could've woken up dead."
For a while, silence stretched between them like thick fog in a graveyard. Alex slumped onto the edge of the sterile bed, the woman gliding over smoothly to sit beside him. The cold white room held them like a cage, and neither seemed eager to break the heavy quiet.
Finally, Alex broke the silence with a voice rough from exhaustion and something darker—defeat.
"You said they," he started, voice low and brittle like cracking glass, "so it's not just one entity watching me. There's more. A whole fucking bunch of them keeping tabs."
The women hesitated, fingers twitching for a moment, then gave the faintest nod.
'Great. Just fucking great.'
Alex let out a bitter laugh that tasted like ash in his mouth. Just when he thought—_naively_—that maybe he could start over, somewhere new, somewhere clean, the past crawled back in like a disease.
Because nothing in this world was free. There was always a price.
'As if my last life was ever mine,' he scoffed darkly, eyes narrowing as he turned to look at her. She was waiting. Expecting something—some flicker of hope, pity, or mercy.
"So... what's your story? Why are you even here?" He didn't expect a fairy tale. Alex had no illusions. This woman wasn't just some fancy AI or a whim of this fucked-up world.
The women blinked, taken aback, like she hadn't prepared for this moment. Then her voice came out softer, almost like a confession.
"My name's V."
Alex's brow twitched.
'V? Like that V from Cyberpunk?'
The name hung in the air oddly familiar but out of place.
V didn't wait for his reaction. She dove in, her story unraveling like a wound that refused to heal.
.
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.
"...and that's how I became a system girl," she finished, eyes searching his for something—sympathy, understanding, maybe even respect.
Instead, Alex just laughed.
It wasn't a kind laugh. It was hollow and harsh, the kind that shreds whatever fragile veneer you're trying to hold on to.
Her story was a nightmare stitched together with worse nightmares.
Sold off at five by parents too drunk on their own poison to care, thrown into the hands of monsters who beat her and broke her while she was still a child. No innocence left, just scars—inside and out.
When she finally clawed her way out, the world spat her back harder. No identity, no education, no future. Just the cold concrete and the cold stares of strangers.
She sold her body for money, food and for whatever scraps of survival she could, but even that was a trap.
One client turned her in to the cops, framed her, and her life ended in a brutal hit-and-run—a violent punctuation mark on a tragedy no one cared to read.
But her suffering didn't end there as she was then chosen to become a pawn of the entity to serve him.
Alex stared at her, the weight of her life sinking like a lead anchor in his gut.
"Jesus... that's some fucked-up past," he muttered, the bitter edge in his voice softening just a little, after all his past life was much worse.
V shrugged, a ghost of a smile flickering.
"Well, it could be worse, right?"
Alex didn't answer. Some things don't deserve words. Just silence—and the cold, hard truth.
"So… what about you? Why are you here?" V asked, her voice curious, even a little playful. She tilted her head like a cat watching a bird twitch just out of reach.
She'd met hundreds of hosts before—men full of ego and hunger, always looking at her like she was a toy, a prize, or something to be tamed.
But Alex was... different.
His crimson eyes weren't burning with lust or greed. They were hollow. Not numb—empty. Like someone who had already lost everything and didn't expect to find anything worth keeping.
And yet...
'He was too good in bed~' she thought, cheeks warming as her hand drifted toward her inner thigh. Her fingers brushed something slick and shamefully warm, her body remembering what her pride wanted to forget. She bit her lip as the vivid memory replayed in her mind.
Then she caught him staring at her again—deadpan, unimpressed.
"You're hopeless," Alex muttered, the disappointment in his voice sharper than any insult. He rubbed his face, sighing. "And no—I don't know why I'm here."
V pretended not to hear the first part, brushing past it like a slap she deserved. But she nodded to the second answer thoughtfully, as if something had just clicked.
"Oh! Right—I almost forgot. The Entity gave me some instructions to pass along to you."
Alex's eyes narrowed. A warning bell went off in the back of his skull.
"What the hell do those fuckers want from me now?" he growled. The venom in his tone wasn't even masked—he hated this, all of it. These 'Entities,' this world, the strings being pulled behind the curtain.
He had no delusions.
'If they left instructions, it can't be good.'
His mind went dark for a second.
'If it's some twisted 'task' or another hellish punishment… I swear on my step-mother name, I'll stab my own heart, before I let them break me again.'
He steadied his breath. Resigned but razor-sharp, his eyes locked onto V.
"Well? Spit it out."
The room seemed colder. Quieter. As if something heavy was about to drop.
V blinked, suddenly very aware that what she said next might shatter the fragile quiet between them for good.
V held up her delicate white fingers, her expression turning serious—an unusual shift from her usual teasing demeanor.
"They said five things," she began, her tone low and deliberate.
"First: Alex, you are the Avatar of $%^&#@, and $%^&#@ wants you to participate in a game called Iron Throne—as their representative."
Alex didn't move. His red eyes narrowed like a blade being drawn.
"Avatar?" he muttered, as if tasting the word. "So I'm a pawn with a shiny label." He scoffed, more to himself.
"Figures, and also what the fuck kind of name is Iron throne, that's straight up copy from Game of Thrones."
V however continued, not minding his questions.
"Second: There are 50 participants in this game. People like you—those with broken pasts, shattered minds, or no will to live."
Alex chuckled, a dry, bitter sound.
"Fifty fucking tragic backstories in a death match. Sounds like a therapist's wet dream." He leaned back, eyes staring up at the ceiling.
"Guess I'm not as special as they made me think."
"Third: Those people…" V paused "They could be anyone. From anime, novels—you name it. Fiction given flesh. Your past life's fantasies? Now they're opponents."
Alex's lips twisted into a humorless grin.
"So I get to fight psychos and Harem boys?" he muttered. "Lovely. Next thing you'll tell me is Guts and Ainz Ooal Gown are bunkmates."
He dragged a hand across his face. "Can't wait to get powerbombed by someone who thinks they're Kirito."
"Fourth: Each one will have their own System. Just like you have me… they'll have someone too."
Alex turned to V, his stare deadpan.
"So they've all got sexy AI Bitches whispering bullshit in their ears too, huh?"
Hearing this Alex sighed. "Remind me to thank your boss for balancing the game. Wouldn't want me to have an unfair advantage like sanity."
"Fifth: This game ends only when one survivor reaches the Iron Throne. Only one walks out."
Silence. The air chilled.
Alex looked at V for a long time, then let out a laugh—low, hollow, and cold.
"So it's a bloodbath with a fancy title." He stood up, pacing slowly. "Live, kill, ascend—or die and be forgotten."
V hesitated, watching Alex closely. She knew what was coming.
"…So," Alex said finally, voice low and dangerous, "just to be clear…"
He turned, facing her with arms crossed and jaw tight
"You're telling me I've been dragged into some multiverse bloodsport death game…to play kingmaker for a fucking cosmic chair?"
V nodded slowly, already bracing for his reaction.
"So let me get this straight..." Alex's voice was low, trembling not with fear — but rage held on a tight leash. "They want me to play their twisted little game — alongside fifty other broken bastards like me — and I don't get a choice? Just because they can?"
His voice cracked slightly at the end, not from weakness, but from the sheer absurdity of it all, because he was thrown into this world, not because of from random luck or anything but because some cocksucking entity wants him to play for them-
Then, without thinking, he slammed his fist into the pristine white wall beside him.
Crack!!
The surface buckled inward with a sharp crunch. Blood smeared across the dented panel — his blood.
He stared at his hand for a moment. The knuckles were torn open, skin split. But the pain barely registered. Only the red made sense — something real in a world that wasn't.
"Of course. Of course they can," he muttered, his tone bitter and hollow. "Why give us freedom, when control is so much more entertaining?"
V watched silently. For once, she didn't tease or flirt. She didn't reach out. Maybe she understood that in this moment, Alex didn't need comfort — he needed clarity.
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Alex scoffed. "Iron Throne, huh?" he muttered as he recall the words from a very popular series.
'Didn't thought that they would use those words from that series.' thought Alex knowing that those entities are really bad at picking up name,
"So what's next? Dragons? Incest? Bad writing in the last season?"
V tried to speak, but he cut her off.
"You said fifty players, all broken, all desperate, that means it's not a game. It's a feeding pit right?."
V nodded her head slowly.
Alex cracked his neck slowly.
"So, what happens if I say NO?"
His voice was flat, serious, but he already know the answer to his own question, still their was this desperate hope, like something..... something can be changed.
V however flinched hearing him saying "no", it seems like she didn't know what to say but still she needed to provided him an answer.
"There… is no 'no,' Alex. You're already in it. The moment you were send into this world, you have already participate."
Alex stared at her for a long moment, then nodded.
"…Yeah," he said. "Figured."
Alex knows now his peaceful life is now ruined, broken and fucked like a whore in heat.