"Young master."

I didn't say anything.

I simply walked forward, my legs still heavy, my body still fighting me with every step. The door was already open by the time I reached the car, and without hesitation, I slid into the back seat. The moment I settled in, I felt just how different this body really was. The extra weight pressed against the leather, my posture sinking in a way that felt wrong. My old body had been lean, used to movement—this one? It felt sluggish, as if every part of it had been pampered into uselessness.

'Tch… fucking hell.'

The door shut behind me with a soft click.

"Take me home," I ordered, my voice low but firm.

There was a pause. A fraction of hesitation that I noticed.

Then, the driver gave a curt nod. "Understood."

But not before glaring at me through the rearview mirror.

I caught it immediately—the sharp, assessing look in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel just a little too tightly before he shifted the car into gear. He didn't say anything, but the tension was there.

And I knew exactly what it meant.

He didn't like me.

No—he didn't like Damien.

That made two of us.

The car eased onto the road, the low hum of the engine filling the silence. The city lights flashed past in streaks of neon, blending into the darkened skyline.

And for the first time since I woke up in this goddamn nightmare—

I had time to think.

'Sigh…'

I ran a hand down my face, staring out the window. My own reflection stared back, faintly distorted by the passing lights.

I still didn't fucking understand.

The memories of my death were clear. The hospital, the pain, the machines screaming in the background. That grotesque figure sitting in the darkness, the last thing I saw before everything collapsed. And then—

[System Notification: Connection Complete.]

That robotic voice.

I heard it, didn't I? Right before everything crashed down, before I started feeling everything for real.

'Was there some kind of system?'

The idea made my stomach twist.

A system.

Like those shitty novels where some unlucky bastard gets thrown into another world, forced to climb the ranks, forced to survive in some twisted game-like reality.

But this wasn't an isekai with swords and magic.

This was a goddamn eroge.

A story where nothing was fair. Where the main character—this useless sack of shit I was stuck in—was destined to lose, over and over again.

And now, somehow, I was him.

'What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?'

I leaned my head back against the seat, exhaling slowly.

'Hmm…'

I frowned, staring at my distorted reflection in the window.

If this really was some kind of system bullshit, there was only one way to confirm it.

I had read enough of those godawful web novels to know.

It always started the same way.

With a command.

A simple call to see if the system would respond.

'System.'

I said it in my head, focusing, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

Nothing.

Not a sound. Not a beep. No glowing text appearing in my vision.

I kept staring at the window, my expression unreadable.

'Status.'

Again, I waited.

And again, nothing.

No notifications. No response. No indication that I was anything more than a miserable bastard trapped in a bloated body that wasn't mine.

I exhaled sharply, resting my elbow against the door and pressing my knuckles against my mouth.

'Hmm… is it a voice activation type?'

If that were the case, then thinking wouldn't do shit.

I'd have to say it.

Testing that theory, I parted my lips slightly and mumbled under my breath—

"System."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—

BZZZT.

A sudden, sharp vibration rang through my skull, like static crackling inside my head.

My breath hitched.

The world around me didn't change. The city outside was still the same blur of neon lights and darkened streets. The car was still moving, the low hum of the engine filling the air. The driver in the front seat didn't even flinch, completely unaware of the strange sensation now crawling through my mind.

But I felt it.

Something had clicked.

Something had shifted.

Like I had just pressed a button I wasn't supposed to touch.

And then—

A voice.

Cold. Mechanical.

Detached.

[System Response: Acknowledged.]

I froze.

So it was real.

It was actually fucking real.

I wasn't just trapped in a game character's body.

I had a fucking system.

The driver's eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror.

"Young master, did you say something?"

His voice was neutral, professional, but there was a hint of something else beneath it. Something watchful.

I blinked, my mind still reeling from what had just happened.

The system—it was real.

I had just confirmed it. The robotic voice wasn't some fever dream or hallucination; it was there, buried in my skull, waiting for my command.

But right now, I had a more immediate issue.

The fucking driver.

I met his gaze through the mirror, my expression carefully blank. "I was talking to myself. Don't worry about it."

He nodded, but I didn't miss the way his eyes lingered for a second too long.

Not just observing.

Glaring.

I felt a flicker of irritation crawl up my spine.

He was looking at me like I was something off. Something wrong.

And I didn't like that.

My fingers drummed lightly against my knee as I tilted my head.

"What are you looking at?"

The words came out slow, sharp—intentional.

The driver's posture stiffened slightly.

He had realized his mistake the moment I called him out on it. But instead of immediately apologizing, he hesitated for just a fraction of a second before answering.

"You look… a bit different, young master."

His tone was careful, but I could hear the underlying curiosity. The doubt. The subtle edge of suspicion.

"Did something happen?"

I let the question hang in the air for a moment, my gaze locked onto his through the mirror.

Then, with a small, almost lazy exhale, I leaned back into my seat.

"None of your fucking business."

Silence.

For a moment, the only sound was the steady hum of the engine, the distant chatter of the city bleeding through the car windows.

Then—

The driver turned his eyes back to the road.

"Understood," he said.

Smart man.

I turned my gaze back toward the window, watching the cityscape blur past.

There was a system inside me.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. The static in my head hadn't faded yet, but I pushed through the discomfort. If the system was real—if it actually existed—then I needed to know what it could do.

"System," I muttered again.

BZZZT.

The same sharp vibration rattled through my skull, but this time, it didn't stop at a simple acknowledgment.

[System Initializing...]

Lines of text flooded my vision, crisp and mechanical, appearing as if projected directly into my mind.

[User Authentication: Confirmed.]

[Host Body Identified: Damien Elford.]

[Status: Synchronization Incomplete.]

[Memory Integration: Pending.]

[Primary Directives: Undefined.]

[Access Level: Restricted.]

I clenched my jaw. "Synchronization incomplete?" What the hell did that mean? And "memory integration pending"? Did that mean I didn't have all of Damien's memories yet?

The more I looked at the text, the more questions piled up. No skills, no abilities, no quests or objectives. If this was supposed to be some kind of "system," it was the most barebones, useless version imaginable.

My fingers tapped against my knee as I mulled it over. If it was incomplete, did that mean I could unlock more? And if so… how?

The driver glanced at me again through the rearview mirror, his eyes sharp with barely concealed distrust.

I ignored him, focusing on the system instead.

"Display status," I said under my breath.

For a second, nothing happened. Then—

[Status Window Loading...]