"Where… am I?"
Ethan's voice sounded hoarse, unfamiliar, like it didn't quite belong to him.
He slowly sat up and looked around.
The room was tiny. Painfully so.
There was just a narrow bed beneath him, no bigger than something you'd find in a cheap hostel, and a single wooden chair placed against the wall. The walls were bare—no windows, no decorations, no cracks or stains to hint at age. Just smooth, pale surfaces that made the space feel sterile and unreal. When he stretched his legs, his feet nearly brushed the opposite wall. If he took three steps in any direction, he would hit something.
It felt less like a room and more like a box someone had forgotten to decorate.
Empty. Quiet. Suffocating.
Ethan's heart beat faster.
He didn't know what was going on.
The last thing he remembered was pain, sharp, overwhelming pain. His water breaking. Shouts. Chaos. Then… nothing. Like someone had taken his memories and dipped them into black ink.
No matter how hard he tried to recall what happened next, his mind refused to cooperate.
Where was Damien?
Where was that glitching main character who had nearly torn reality apart?
Why was he here, alone, in a small unfamiliar room that felt detached from everything?
Before he could spiral further, a familiar presence suddenly appeared.
Pop.
A small white rabbit floated into existence in front of him, ears twitching cheerfully.
"You're finally awake after so many months!" the rabbit chirped, spinning in the air. "Congratulations, host, for successfully completing your tutorial mission!"
Ethan stared at it.
"…Months?"
The rabbit nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Since you were forcibly ejected from the world after your soul reached its limit, your consciousness entered a dormant state. This space was created to safely house you while your spiritual energy recovered!"
"…What."
"This," the rabbit continued, spreading its tiny paws, "is a resting space granted by the goddesses! You can think of it as a temporary sanctuary. A place to stabilize your soul, reorganize memories, and regain strength between missions."
Ethan rubbed his temples.
"So you're telling me," he said slowly, "that I woke up in a glorified storage room for souls."
Xixi laughed awkwardly. "When you put it like that, it sounds bad."
Ethan looked back at the bare walls and single chair.
"It is bad."
Then something else clicked.
"…You said I completed my tutorial mission?"
"Yes!"
"Tutorial mission?" Ethan repeated, disbelief creeping into his voice. "What tutorial mission?"
None of this made sense.
The world he had been thrown into was a mess. The male lead didn't end up with the protagonist. The so-called main character lost his sanity. The plot derailed so badly it practically caught fire. And now this rabbit was congratulating him?
Xixi floated closer, tone turning explanatory. "A tutorial mission is a preliminary world assigned to new hosts. Its purpose isn't to achieve a perfect ending, but to test adaptability, emotional endurance, and decision-making under unstable narrative conditions."
Ethan blinked.
"…So it was a test."
"Yes! The goddesses wanted to see how you would react when placed in a flawed world. One where the plot resisted correction and the characters were already broken."
"…And I passed?"
Xixi nodded proudly. "You did."
Ethan laughed once. It came out hollow.
"I died."
"You did," Xixi agreed brightly.
"…While giving birth."
"Yes."
"The story collapsed."
"Mhm!"
"The main character went insane."
"Correct!"
Ethan stared at the rabbit, expression blank.
"What kind of sick tutorial is this?"
Xixi hesitated, then said softly, "You completed the core objective."
"What objective?"
"You pushed the male lead back to his rightful position."
Ethan frowned.
"Damien broke free from his grandfather's control," Xixi explained. "He reclaimed his authority, regained his mobility, and returned to his original self—cold, ruthless, and independent."
"…That was enough?" Ethan asked.
"Yes."
Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.
"Let me show you what happened after you left," Xixi said quickly, waving its paw.
A projection bloomed in the air.
Ethan sucked in a breath.
Damien sat behind a wide desk, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. His posture was straight, rigid. On his lap sat a baby—round-cheeked, small fists clenched around Damien's sleeve.
Damien's expression was cold. Too cold.
Like someone standing on the edge of a cliff, deciding whether or not to burn the world below.
Ethan's gaze dropped to the baby.
…That's him.
The realization hit harder than he expected.
Before he could process it, Damien stood. He was walking—steady, unassisted. His legs moved smoothly, as if they had never been broken at all.
Ethan noticed absently that this must've been the effect of the skill the system had given him back then.
Damien pushed aside a bookshelf, revealing a hidden passage, and stepped inside.
The scene followed.
The room beyond was dark, illuminated only by dim blue lights embedded in the walls. The air felt heavy even through the projection. Cold metal surfaces reflected faintly, giving the space an unsettling, clinical feel.
At the center of the room stood a coffin-like container made of transparent crystal and black metal. Tubes and runes ran along its sides, pulsing faintly, as if something inside was still… alive.
Ethan's stomach dropped.
A sense of foreboding crawled up his spine.
Damien approached the container and pressed his finger against a scanner.
With a soft hiss, the lid slid open.
Inside lay a body.
Ethan's body.
Xia Lan's face was pale, serene, untouched by decay. His skin looked even smoother than before, lashes casting faint shadows against his cheeks. He looked like he was asleep—too peaceful for someone who was supposed to be dead.
Ethan's expression finally cracked.
Damien reached out and caressed Xia Lan's cheek with reverent slowness.
"You look even more beautiful when you're dead," Damien murmured.
Then he looked down at the baby in his arms.
"Adrian," he said softly, "this is your mommy. Isn't he beautiful?"
The baby giggled, drool slipping from his mouth.
Ethan felt cold.
"He'll stay with us forever," Damien continued quietly. "Nothing can take him away again."
The projection lingered a moment longer before Ethan spoke.
"…Show me the main character."
Xixi hesitated, then nodded. "Of course!"
The scene shifted.
Jamie stood in a filthy alley, surrounded by trash bags and broken bottles. His clothes were torn, hair matted, eyes bloodshot. He rocked back and forth, muttering to himself.
"I'm the main character," Jamie whispered hoarsely. "This is my world. My story. No one can take it from me. Not even that filth…"
Ethan looked away.
"Turn it off."
The projection vanished.
Xixi clapped its paws. "The goddesses are very pleased with your performance! From now on, the real missions will begin. Are you ready?"
Ethan exhaled slowly.
"…Will there be more BL?" he asked flatly.
"I can't say for sure!" Xixi chirped. "Worlds are assigned randomly!"
"…I want to talk to the goddesses."
Xixi brightened. "We can arrange that!"
A small floating crystal appeared—faceted, glowing softly, runes rotating within it like a living interface.
The goddesses' faces appeared.
"Oh! Our cute little hero!" the blonde goddess laughed. "Did you enjoy the tutorial mission?"
Ethan stared at them. All smiles. All calculation.
"I have one request," he said.
"Oh?" another goddess purred. "Speak, human."
"My next worlds should have zero BL characters."
The goddesses exchanged glances.
"I'm afraid that isn't possible," the blonde said gently. "World selection is based on resonance with your soul frequency and accumulated karma. We don't manually assign them."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "But you are the creators of these worlds right? Well do something..."
The crystal suddenly went dark.
"Hello?" Ethan shook it. "Hello?! How do I turn this thing on? Xixi, turn it on!!"
"I'm afraid the Astral Communion Core has reached its usage limit," Xixi said awkwardly. "You'll have to try again later."
Ethan slapped his forehead.
"…Do I at least get a break?"
"Yes! Would you like to rest or proceed to your first mission?"
Ethan leaned back on the bed, staring at the empty ceiling.
"…Proceed."