The door closed behind him with a soft metallic groan, and for the first time since he had woken up in this nightmare, Arlo was alone.
The chamber was warmer than the frozen world outside, but that wasn't saying much.
The air here carried a constant chill that seeped into his bones, thin curtains of frost crawling down the stone walls like the fingers of some half-forgotten ghost.
A bed had been placed against the far wall — if you could call it a bed. It looked more like a slab of carved ice overlaid with fur hides, stiff and uninviting.
Still, after the gauntlet of eyes and suffocating pressure in the council chamber, even that slab felt like salvation.
Arlo shut his eyes, pressing his back against the door, letting out a long breath that fogged in the frigid air.
His knees trembled.
His chest still felt hollow where the queen's words had gutted him in front of those predators.
'Married. To her. In what kind of sick, cosmic joke do you stumble into a new world and immediately get fast-tracked to being the chew toy of a yandere ice dragon?'
His hand shook as he rubbed his face.
No point sounding weaker than he already was.
'Get it together. Panicking won't help. Think.'
The council chamber replayed in his head like a highlight reel designed to torture him.
The glint in her eyes when she looked at him, the silence of those nobles when she'd said his name, the bloodthirst that rolled off them like heat waves. He could still feel it, that sensation of being the rabbit dumped into a pit of starving wolves.
The truth was obvious: she wasn't marrying him because of love, or even lust.
This was a game to her. A move on her personal chessboard. He was nothing more than a pawn — and pawns got sacrificed.
Arlo dragged himself to the bed and sat down, the furs crunching faintly with ice crystals.
His body sagged forward, elbows on his knees, hands buried in his hair. He tried to steady his breathing.
"Okay," he muttered. "Okay, okay… panic later. Priorities now. If I don't figure something out, I'm dead before I hit next week's episode."
His gaze drifted inward, to the faint hum at the back of his mind — that strange presence he had felt ever since he touched the floating book in the dragon's vault.
His supposed 'cheat'.
His golden ticket.
Every isekai protagonist worth their salt had one. And if the glowing words in his vision earlier had been real, then so did he.
"Alright," Arlo said through clenched teeth. "Let's see what you've got for me, Innovator System."
The moment he willed it, light bloomed in the air before him.
It wasn't blinding, but it was sharp, crisp — like the shine of a freshly polished screen in a dark room.
Letters and symbols pulsed into view, lines sketching themselves into a hovering interface.
At the center floated a single icon: a glowing rectangular button framed in a faint shimmer.
[Tutorial Available]
Arlo blinked. "Seriously? Just one button? No menu, no stats, no… nothing?"
The button pulsed again, as if in annoyance.
"…Fine," he muttered, reaching out. His finger brushed the light, and the button flared.
A voice cut through the silence.
It was smooth, casual, and carried the dry edge of someone who had long since stopped being impressed by human stupidity.
[Welcome, Host. You've successfully activated the Innovator System.]
Arlo froze. "…It talks? Since when do they talk?"
[Congratulations on your keen observation.]
He blinked. "Oh, great. My cheat comes with an attitude."
[Correction: your cheat comes with personality. You're welcome.]
"..."
"…Do you have an off button?"
[If I did, do you think I'd tell you?]
"..."
The light pulsed, almost smug.
[Let's begin. Tutorial loading.]
More panels bloomed around the first, sketching themselves in midair. Simple. Clean. Nothing like the cluttered stat sheets he had imagined. Five modules appeared, each one represented by a faintly glowing icon.
Blueprint — a quill over parchment.
Optimize — a gear surrounded by flowing arrows.
Simulate — a crystalline sphere.
Upgrade — an upward arrow forged from metal.
Scan — an eye encircled by lines of data.
They floated in a gentle arc before him, their glow pulsing softly like waiting heartbeats.
[Module One: Blueprint. You provide the idea, I provide the schematic. Limitations: the clearer your understanding, the better the result. You imagine the bicycle, I draft it for production.]
Arlo's brow furrowed. "…Wait. You're telling me I have to know the thing first? What if I don't?"
[Then you get garbage. If you imagine a "box with wheels," congratulations, you've invented a shopping cart. Useless, but technically functional.]
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is already giving me a migraine."
[Welcome to innovation.]
The second module pulsed.
[Module Two: Optimize. Once a blueprint exists, I improve it. Efficiency, durability, cost-effectiveness — all adjustable. Think of me as the difference between duct-taping your project together and actually making it work.]
"Okay…" Arlo muttered. "That actually sounds useful."
[I know. Try to keep up.]
The third lit up.
[Module Three: Simulate. Testing environment. Instead of exploding your workshop or burning your face off, you test the blueprint virtually. If it fails, no mess. If it succeeds, you move to production.]
Arlo's lips twitched. "…I don't even have a workshop."
[Minor detail.]
"Minor—?!" He threw up his hands. "Are you hearing yourself?"
[I hear myself perfectly. You're the one panicking.]
Arlo scowled. "This isn't panicking. This is… proactive pessimism."
[Call it whatever helps you sleep at night, Host.]
The fourth module pulsed.
[Module Four: Upgrade. Once you have a functioning design, I help you refine it. Version 2.0, 3.0, and so on. Your job: survive long enough to see those upgrades matter.]
"Gee, thanks for the pep talk."
[You're welcome.]
Finally, the fifth lit up.
[Module Five: Scan. I analyze objects, environments, even structures. The more complex, the more time required. Scans provide raw data that feed into the other modules.]
Arlo blinked. "…So I'm basically an R&D department. One-man engineering team."
[Correct. You innovate, or you die. Simple.]
He sat back on the bed, exhaling slowly.
His fingers drummed nervously against his knees. The glow of the panels painted the room in shifting hues, the blue light spilling across his face, sharpening the worry lines already forming there.
It was… impressive. He had to admit it. A system like this had the potential to change civilizations.
Industry, infrastructure, technology — with enough time and resources, he could drag this ice-locked dragon kingdom straight into a renaissance.
But there was one glaring flaw.
"…You don't give me powers," Arlo muttered. "No magic, no stat buffs, no hidden sword skills. Just… ideas."
[Correct. You don't get to punch mountains. You get to design catapults to knock them down.]
His laugh was hollow. "Oh, perfect. I'm surrounded by dragons who can squash me like an insect, and my superpower is IKEA assembly instructions."
[Optimized IKEA assembly instructions.]
Arlo groaned, tipping backward onto the furs. The panels hovered above him like mocking stars. His breath clouded faintly as it rose, then vanished into the cold air.
"…I'm dead. Absolutely dead."
[Most hosts last less than a week. I'm betting you survive eight days. Nine, if I'm generous.]
He jolted upright. "Are you serious right now?!"
[Deadly.]
Arlo buried his face in his hands, shaking with a mix of frustration and hysterical laughter. "Oh, fantastic. My only ally is actively rooting for my funeral."
The system's glow dimmed slightly, almost like it was shrugging.
[Prove me wrong.]
Arlo let out a long, shaky breath. His chest ached from the constant rollercoaster of fear and adrenaline, but somewhere deep inside, a tiny ember of stubbornness flickered.
Prove it wrong.
He looked at the floating panels again. Blueprints. Optimization. Simulation. Upgrades. Scanning.
It wasn't power, not in the flashy sense. But it was something. A foothold.
If he could survive the queen. If he could last long enough to build something, anything… maybe this wasn't hopeless.
"…Fine," he whispered. "Challenge accepted."