“Is that what you’re focused on?”
A pale, slender hand mercilessly pinched my cheek, and perhaps it was my imagination.
I thought I detected a trace of resentment in her tone.
In moments of crisis, the human survival instinct is a force to be reckoned with.
My mind, previously muddled by the sheer absurdity of recent events, snapped into clarity.
“Wait, who are you?”
As if a key had clicked into its lock, the girl before me ceased her mischievous assault and settled back into her seat.
“Finally remembering the important stuff, huh, you dummy?”
Was personal slander really necessary over something so trivial?
Rubbing my stinging cheek, I quietly grumbled about Epoch’s hyper-realistic sensory simulation.
But my hand brushed against my head, and my attention shifted to the changes in my body.
“Are these demon horns?”
I murmured, fingers tracing the protrusions sprouting from my scalp.
“Why do they look so much like dragonkin horns?”
No wonder I’d mistaken them earlier.
“My hair’s pink now, too. What a sinful color…”
Should I head to the library and borrow a copy of The Self-Cultivation of Pink-Haired Villains to embrace my inner schemer?
And… are my underwear pink, too?
Before I could entertain that mortifying thought further, the girl, now reseated, cut in.
“Who do you think I am?”
“A shameless, morally bankrupt, violent freeloader with no limits.”
I swear those words slipped out on pure instinct, completely detached from my conscious will.
But, predictably, she wasn’t buying it.
“Are you describing yourself? Freeloader’s one thing, but why pile on all those nasty adjectives?”
The blonde girl’s lips twitched, and she stood again, cracking her dainty knuckles.
Though her fists looked harmless, I had zero doubts about their destructive potential especially if they connected with me.
“Uh, setup and payoff?”
Recalling essay techniques in a life-or-death moment was peak survival instinct, no question.
“So, what’s the payoff?”
No need to overthink this—just pick her most glaring strength and lean into it.
“And you’re flat as a board~”
“…”
“…”
“Any last words?”
Her smile dripped with murderous intent, a paradoxical blend of serene and terrifying that left no room to question its sincerity.
I was moments away from becoming the first victim under her fist, ready to plead for mercy. No matter what, I wasn’t giving up hope.
“Wait! Shouldn’t we be allies in the proletariat struggle?”
Mortifying as it was, I puffed out my chest for the sake of survival.
But she didn’t look remotely amused.
“Who’d team up with a prepubescent washboard like you, idiot?”
Her knuckle rapped my head, and somehow, I sensed a melancholic resentment in it—a sorrow mismatched with her age and… dimensions.
If I had to sum it up in one word, it’d be…
“Ow!”
I whimpered, clutching my head.
But then, a spark of realization flashed through my mind.
“Blonde hair, red eyes, flat chest, angelic vibe…”
Coupling that with the female voice from the system error—eerily similar to hers—my heart landed on an answer.
“Are you Epoch’s AI supercomputer, Alice?”
Thwack.
Another tiny fist clocked my head.
“Why does flat chest have to be the clincher for my identity?”
Nursing yet another lump, I didn’t dare retaliate.
Realizing the girl before me was the supreme administrator controlling Epoch’s entire data network was enough to make anyone tread lightly.
“Um, surely the esteemed Lady Alice has urgent matters to attend to, right? With the server just launched, there must be tons to handle. Sneaking away like this could cause problems, no?”
“And whose fault is that? You tampered with the program using a glitch. If I hadn’t intervened, the character creation logic would’ve collapsed entirely,” Alice snapped, her half-lidded eyes shooting me a warning glare.
“Don’t think logging off will help—I’ve already traced your IP.”
My plan to escape was exposed, so I slunk back to my seat, a new worry surfacing.
How severe were the penalties for violating cybersecurity laws?
My only silver lining was that I was still a minor.
Maybe I should’ve thought this through more.
With my amateur coding skills, how could I possibly outsmart a supercomputer with teraflop-level processing?
Hold on, I’m about to cry just thinking about it.
But Alice seemed to sense my panic.
“Relax, I haven’t reported this yet.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t get too excited. It depends on how you behave.”
Her delicate finger tilted my chin upward, her teasing demeanor hinting at something unspoken.
I swallowed hard.
“What kind of behavior?”
“What do you think? You are pretty cute, after all.”
She leaned across the table, her warm breath tickling my ear.
“Uh, Lady Alice is just joking, right~?”
I tried to laugh off the awkwardness.
She wasn’t having it.
“Since you’re still hesitating, I guess I’ve got no choice.”
“Wait, what does that mean—”
“Nothing much. Just uploading the footage to the police to help them escort you to juvie for a few years of homework.”
She added casually, “Don’t worry, it’s just math problems. Easy stuff.”
“Hold on, hold on, hold on!”
Don’t say something so horrifying so nonchalantly!
“Made up your mind?”
Blushing, I turned away, unable to meet her playful gaze.
“Please… be gentle…”
It was humiliating, no doubt, but compared to my current predicament, pride was a renewable resource I could toss out like wild grass.
For a few seconds after my words, silence hung in the air.
Then Alice erupted into laughter, hammering the table with a complete disregard for her ladylike image.
“Too easy! Who’d fall for a scrawny figure like yours? But that reaction was adorably hilarious!”
If my face were a fruit, it’d be an apple—no, a ripe apple, flushed to the core.
Her tone, now noticeably lighter, carried a hint of glee.
“Phew, that cheered me up. Payback for all your snark earlier.”
What are you, a grade-schooler?
Of course, I didn’t dare voice that retort.
Having my fate in her hands was the worst feeling imaginable.
“But compared to those stuffy old fossils, you’re actually pretty entertaining. Making you Demon King might lead to some fun developments.”
Tftc!