What Is Wrong with You? The Dog System Makes Me, the Heir, Eat Bran and Swill

What is wrong with you? Everyone else transmigrates as an invincible hero, but I transmigrated into a sickly weakling who has to rely on self-torture to stay alive?

The damn System forces me to eat bran and wild greens and sleep in a stable on a pile of hay, yet all of the capital praises my performance art and boundless refinement?

I use PUA tactics on my sworn enemy, telling him to insult me even more harshly. Instead, he's so moved that he bows down before me and makes me his life mentor?

All I want is to suffer in peace and stay alive, but you insist on imagining me as an otherworldly, peerless sage!

Fine, I'm done pretending. Here's the truth! Starting today, I'm the face of suffering!