"Fucking hell… Joey? What the heck are you recommending me?"
Lying flat on my back, I couldn't help but curse as I stared at my phone, utterly unable to read the garbage on my screen any further.
The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the sunlight. The room was dark, quiet—except for the sound of my idiot roommate watching YouTube Shorts on his tablet.
"…Trump has gone senile! That madman is plunging the world into war!"
Another one of those shorts…
It was the year 2027. NATO had fallen—or rather, fractured—after Trump invaded Greenland and annexed it.
It had started a year ago. "Introducing freedom" to Venezuela, followed by airstrikes in Iran, and then everything spiraled. The entire West had descended into chaos.
"What, bro?" Joey asked, munching on Doritos as he glanced back at me.
"The fuck are you reading?"
I shoved my phone toward him, displaying the same novel he had recommended.
Talent Copying System! Upgrading Talent Ten Thousand Times!
"Oh, this?" Joey scratched his half-grown beard. "You didn't like it? I thought you liked overpowered protagonists."
"I like overpowered protagonists," I snapped. "Not perverted protagonists."
"Perverted?" Joey frowned. "Last time I read it, it was going great. Single female lead."
"Single female lead?" I stared at him. "That's his sister!"
"So what?"
"…"
"Is that a problem?"
My jaw literally dropped.
"Aren't all Chinese protagonists like this?" Joey continued casually. "Going after their sisters the moment the book starts?"
"Well…" I wanted to argue, but the words just wouldn't come. Time travel, reincarnation, suddenly gaining a sister—yeah, the cliché was familiar. But that wasn't the point.
"It's perfectly normal, dude. All Chinese protagonists are like that. You should be used to it by now." Joey laughed, shrugging it off. "It may be wrong, but I actually like the dynamic between the protagonist and the female lead."
"In fact, I love the female lead myself."
"…She's thirteen."
"W—what?"
"I said she's thirteen! You sick bastard!"
…
…
"Hello, 911—"
"Oh, come on! I didn't know her age!"
"That's what they all say, Rudeus."
I hurled a pillow at him. He barely dodged it as I sat upright.
"Diddy's disciple… no wonder you like Xiao Yan."
"Hey! Don't you dare disrespect my boy Xiao Yan. He's the GOAT."
"Huff… you degenerate bastard."
I cursed and turned back to my phone.
"Fucking hell. There's nothing worth reading these days."
No new novels. No fresh ideas. Compared to five years ago, the number of writers had dropped drastically.
Nowadays, it was hard to find anything worthwhile. Most stories were just perverted trash. The few decent ones either got abandoned midway or ruined themselves spectacularly.
"All that's left are Chinese MTLs…" I sighed.
They were the only ones still pumping out massive chapter counts and half-interesting concepts—but sorting through them was torture.
Bad translations. Names and genders changing every other paragraph. Broken language. Brain-dead protagonists with zero IQ.
Nationalism. Clichés. Childhood sweethearts. Sisters. Pokémon-style harems.
"God… I'm done with this world."
I tossed my phone aside and stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes.
"Hope the roof collapses and ends my boring life…"
Twenty-one years old. Virgin. Average. Orphan. No inheritance. No backing.
That was my life.
"Bro… don't be so down," Joey said. "I'm sure you'll find the novel you're looking for sooner or later."
"Hah. When?" I looked at him with dead, exhausted eyes. "I just want to read something interesting. Is that too much to ask?"
"Don't know," Joey shrugged. "But my gut says soon. God hears everything, you know. Makes wishes come true."
"Anyway," he added, grinning, "want to fill out this survey?"
"What survey?"
"There's this cool one going viral. Asking people about their ideal novel—manhwa, anime, all that."
"You in?"
"Well… no harm in trying."
"Alright. You go first."
He handed me the tablet.
I read the questions one by one.
"First question: genre."
"Eastern fantasy," I replied.
"Cultivation and stuff?"
"Yeah. I like those."
"Next—cheat of the protagonist. Anything in mind?"
"Hmm…"
"You could ask for an incubus body, vampire bloodline, or a system that gives you power from girls you sleep with."
"Fuck off." I grimaced. "I hate that shit."
"Okay, then what?"
"I want something overpowered… but within limits."
Thinking back on everything I'd read, I answered carefully.
"Have you heard of the Life Script System?"
"The one that lets you see talents and futures?"
"Yeah. That—but also the ability to copy abilities through touch. Cultivation, talents, skill proficiency."
"That's broken."
"Yeah. But it's OP or nothing."
"I'm pretty sure it's nerf or nothing."
"Anyway," I continued, "it'd be good if the system wasn't sentient. Balanced, but still absurd."
"Hm…"
We continued filling out the survey, chatting casually.
Then—
Boom!
"Did you hear that?" I asked.
"Hear what?"
The apartment began to shake violently.
"Uh—ahh!"
"An earthquake?"
I struggled to stay upright as the bed trembled.
Black.
The clock on the wall fell. Lights flickered. Cracks spread across the ceiling.
"The fuck—"
A massive explosion thundered from upstairs.
Boom!
The ceiling split open.
Time slowed.
I looked up just in time to see the nose of an airplane piercing through the roof, aimed straight at me.
"NOOOO!"
There was no time. No space to escape.
The aircraft crashed down.
Splash!
Boom!