When he first arrived in the world, the laid-back guy flipped through the Executor's Handbook, then stopped at the world's original plot. "So you're saying I'm the river that's destined to be dismantled after the protagonist crosses it, a cannon-fodder who works himself to death only to be gloriously used as the protagonist's scapegoat?"
The white orb fell silent for a moment, then gave a hesitant nod.
The young master tossed the script aside and sneered. "Anyone who wants this miserable job can have it." He immediately shut down the System.
Twelve years later, on a stormy night beneath a dark sky, he stepped through a puddle, splashing rainwater onto his trouser cuffs. The young master glanced down at the gravestone, turned, and walked away, his figure disappearing into the depths of the long night.
The System was restarted.
Executors walk among the world, and order is the world's standard.
But what ensures that the Executors maintain order?
Desire.
Theme: Fate and struggle, love and respect
