Shawn O'Pry's eyelids were in the midst of an arduous tug-of-war.
On one side was Newton's second law; on the other was Professor Marshall's lecture on An Introduction to Sociological Theory, which was potent enough to hypnotize an entire army. In this battle, Newton was clearly winning.
His head, like a lead-filled bowling ball, sank lower and lower, irresistibly falling toward the desk. The second before his forehead was about to make intimate contact with the cool wood grain, a white light, a hundred times more blinding than the midday sun, penetrated the lecture hall's ceiling without warning and precisely struck the crown of his head.
"Bang!"
The feeling was strange, not like being hit by any physical object, but more like being smothered hard by a soft but incredibly dense pillow. Shawn's body jolted violently. He shot up from his chair, then limply collapsed back into it.
The world before his eyes became a spinning, buzzing mosaic.
"Shawn? Shawn! Are you okay?" The fat guy next to him, Leo, shook his shoulders forcefully, the flesh on his face trembling with worry. "Don't scare me! It's just sleeping in class, you're not supposed to actually sleep to death, are you?"
Professor Marshall's lecture came to an abrupt halt. He adjusted his glasses and looked with displeasure at the source of the disturbance. "Mr. O'Pry, if my class is causing you such agony, the nurse's office might be a more suitable place for you to conduct your photosynthesis."
Shawn wanted to say something, like, "Professor, I suspect I've been targeted by an alien's orbital cannon," but when he opened his mouth, only a meaningless groan came out. His brain was a chaotic mess, like a pot of boiling porridge.
"Professor, I think he's really not okay, his face has gone all white!" Leo grew anxious, half-dragging and half-carrying Shawn up from his seat. "I'll take him to the nurse's office!"
Amidst the sympathetic or amused gazes of the surrounding students, Shawn was dragged out of the classroom. The quiet air in the hallway cleared his head a little, but the continuous buzzing in his mind grew increasingly distinct.
Just then.
[Ding—]
A crisp, pleasant, yet somewhat electronically synthesized notification sound rang out directly in the depths of his mind.
Shawn's steps faltered, and he looked around in a daze. The hallway was empty.
"Did you hear a sound?" he asked Leo vaguely.
"A sound? Besides the sound of you gasping for your last breath, there's nothing." Leo struggled to adjust his grip, complaining, "I'm telling you, have you been playing too many video games lately? You're starting to have auditory hallucinations."
It wasn't a hallucination.
Because in the next second, a translucent dialogue box glowing with a faint blue light, just like the UI of a cheap online game, abruptly floated in the very center of his vision.
[Succubus System has been activated.] [Objective: Become a succubus who enthralls all living beings.]
Shawn blinked hard. The thing was still there. He could even make out the pixels at the edge of the screen, a result of insufficient resolution.
"...The hell," he muttered to himself. "Is this some new type of brain-implanted advertisement?"
[Now binding to host...] [Host Name: Shawn O'Pry.] [Charisma: 5 (Background character level, the type to disappear into a crowd in three seconds).] [Romance Experience: 0 (An uncultivated salt flat).]
Shawn's temples throbbed. He could tolerate the previous parts, but what was this "Charisma: 5" supposed to mean? This was a naked insult to his twenty years of life!
Before he could organize his words for a mental protest, the text on the screen refreshed again.
[Binding complete. Welcome, you moron.]
"What kind of bullshit system is this!" Shawn cursed furiously in his mind.
He took a deep breath, deciding not to bother with a hallucination that was possibly a side effect of a concussion. He tried to close the window with his thoughts, just like operating a computer. However, the blue dialogue box didn't move an inch, and instead, new content popped up.
[Searching for conquest target, target locked!]
A high-definition photo suddenly filled the entire screen. The man on it had a chiseled jawline and a physique capable of making countless people fall for him. His eyes, like glacial meltwater, radiated confidence, and a thatch of dark body hair accentuated his rugged, mature charm. It was this very look that had earned him the nickname "McSteamy."
Shawn recognized him. Or rather, there wasn't a single person at this university who didn't.
[Target: Eric Dane.] [Identity: Star quarterback of the university football team.] [Conquest Difficulty: SSS-Rank (Hell Mode).]
Shawn's mouth twitched. Conquest? What kind of prank was this?
He roared at the void in his mind with all his might: "I don't care what you are, get out of my head right now! I'm a straight guy! A completely straight one! You've got the wrong person!"
The system was silent for two seconds.
[Warning: Host is exhibiting strong resistance, refusing to accept the mission.] [HP -1.]
The moment the voice fell, a sharp pain, as if his heart was being viciously squeezed by an invisible hand, shot through him. Shawn let out a muffled grunt, his body went limp, and he nearly fell to his knees.
"Shawn! What's wrong with you?!" Leo's exclamation became distant and blurry.
In Shawn's field of vision, at the top of that damned blue screen, a red health bar appeared, labeled [99/100].
The cold, emotionless electronic voice sounded again.
[Time Limit: Before the end of this semester, establish an intimate relationship with the conquest target, causing their affection level for you to reach "Hopelessly Smitten."] [Mission Failure Penalty: Eradicate Host.]
The last two words, "Eradicate Host," floated up from the screen, dyed a startling blood-red, like an ominous brand seared deep into Shawn's retinas.