Other people die and transmigrate into the bodies of villainesses, where they can lie flat. After I died, I was “hired” as a low-level customer service agent in the System world. Employee number 00987. My daily work is to assign missions to transmigrators, read out prompts, and clean up messes.
Then I was demoted and assigned to a villainous supporting character who’s about to be stabbed through the heart by the protagonist. The five operators before me were all driven mad by him.
He refuses to follow the script, refuses to carry out missions, and refuses to obey any System commands.
But then he said something to the empty air: “Don’t you think this script is stupid too?”
He was talking to me.
He’d waited five years for someone who could answer him.
