The heavy oak door of my quarters slammed shut, cutting off the world. I stood in the center of the room, my breath coming in sharp, quiet gasps. The silence was loud.
"Out!" I had snapped at the servants trailing me like frightened chicks. "All of you. Get out. I need to rest."
The Arrogant way of speaking had been engraved into this very body so bad, that anything i said came out as Arrogant and Rude.
They had scattered, bowing so low their foreheads nearly scraped the polished stone floor. The last one, a girl with wide eyes, hesitated by the door. "Young Master, your evening tea-"
"Did I ask for tea?" My voice was low, but it carried a strong oppressing power that made her flinch. "Are you deaf? Get out of my sight."
She fled, pulling the door closed. The click of the latch was the most final sound I had ever heard.
Alone, I dropped the Act. My shoulders slumped. This had to be a dream. A brutally vivid, stress-induced nightmare. I just needed to sleep it off. I'd wake up with a stiff neck, the taste of cheap beef on my tongue, and a dead laptop.
I didn't bother with the robes. I collapsed onto the massive bed, the silken sheets slithering coldly against my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the hum of a refrigerator, the glare of a streetlamp through a dirty window.
Anything but this.
A gong, its sound deep and resonant enough to vibrate in my bones, shattered my sleep. Pale, early morning light filtered through the window.
I was still here.
The fancy walls. The weapon racks. The lingering scent of sandalwood and iron.
A raw, guttural sound ripped from my throat. I drove a fist into the mattress. "No! This isn't funny anymore! Take me back!"
and that is when reality kicked in, This was not a dream.
For a wild moment, I clutched at a new thread of hope.
The hope died as I looked out the window. Below, the training grounds were a hive of controlled violence. Disciples moved with a lethal grace I'd only ever described. And there he was. Jin-Woo, My protagonist, Practicing a basic form with a desperate, grinding intensity.
He has a system. I gave it to him.
And I… I am the experience points.
A new, desperate idea ignited. When this sort of thing happens in a novel, you get a System.
"A system," I breathed, the words barely a whisper.
"Of course. It made perfect sense. I am the creator! If anyone deserved a system, it was me".
I straightened up, squaring my shoulders the way he would.
"System!" I said, with a firm commanding voice .
Nothing.
"Interface, Open."
Silence was too loud.
"Status Screen! Menu! Quest Log, damn you!"
The room remained stubbornly, maddeningly ordinary.
Frustration boiled over. Maybe it needed a trigger. I thought of every cliché I'd ever written.
"I call upon the Heavenly Dao! Grant me your vision!"
"By the power that binds this story, I command you to appear!"
"Let the game begin!"
I even struck a pose, one hand thrust toward the ceiling like a bad actor in a stage play. At that exact moment, a servant chosen by the gods of irony chose to crack my door open. "Young Master, the Council of Elde-"
His eyes met my dramatic stance. The blood drained from his face.
I dropped my arm, my own face heating with a flush of pure humiliation. "Who told you to enter?" I snarled, the rage a welcome mask for my shame.
"I beg forgi-"
"Get out!" I roared, snatching a heavy ceramic teacup from a nearby table and threw it at the door. It exploded into a thousand pieces, spraying tea everywhere. "The next one to disturb me will be cleaning this with their tongue! Now GET OUT!"
The door slammed shut, faster than I thought possible.
The burst of anger faded, leaving me hollow. The despair rushed back in, a cold, dark tide. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor, the fragments of the cup digging into my palm. I didn't care.
I remembered it all. I'd written Cheon Taehyun as a bottleneck, an arrogant fool with a powerful constitution, designed to be surpassed. I'd written Jin-Woo's system to grant him quests to "Humble the Arrogant Eldest Brother" and "Claim the throne."
"Why?" I mumbled to the empty room, the word thick with regret. "Why did I make it so easy for him? Why did I make me so... breakable?"
I was trapped. Caged in the body of the man I'd built to be destroyed, with the hero I'd built to destroy him training right outside my window.
I had no system. No divine favor. Even the Author hates me.
All I had was the entire, terrible script of my own execution.
And as I sat there helplessly, a sudden knock on the door was followed by a deep commanding voice.
"The Patriarch awaits your Presence." , that very voice sent shivers down my spine , as it was the Great Guardian who had came personally to inform me.