The room was quiet.
Not peaceful—Morgan didn't believe in peace. Peace was the lull before a massacre.
Morgan sat by the wide, ornate mirror, wiping the steam from her face. The candlelight flickered, reflecting her sharp, symmetrical features—like a blade forged in winter and polished in blood.
She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Something was… off.
Her fingers brushed along her palm, then clenched into a fist.
Her mind, always quiet and methodical, had been turning like a war machine since the moment it happened.
'That moment!'
When she grabbed _him_—Alex or Sunless whatever he is, the little fake-ranked one rat who don't even know how to hide his pathetic excuse of a lie, and yet he somehow always danced at the edge of death with a smirk and half an erection.
When she had slammed him into the wall in the locker room—their was no traces of fear on his face expect for a huge blush, this thing both amused her and also give her a headache—but when she accidently touched him.
Physically. Skin-to-skin.
And…
Nothing.
No cracks, no splinters, no unnatural fragility, no fracture lines snaking up his collarbone or forming across his ribs like they should have, no shattering boots, no crumbling wall tiles where she had pressed him.
Her flaw… didn't activate.
But at that moment, she also felt felt something. The fracture that always followed her contact with others—how steel would weaken, how bones might crack, how glass would splinter at her fingertips—none of it happened.
He had nullified her Flaw.
"It's not random. Flaws are never random."
The Nightmare Spell doesn't create Flaws… it reveals them. Ties them to your soul like a reflection of your sins. Her Flaw—turning things fragile—was no accident. It was her curse. Her nature. A blade that shatters what it touches.
'Why it didn't work on him.' her crimson eyes stared at her reflection.
'No one survives my touch… unless…'
Her mind began running simulations, scenarios, threads of ancient theory. Curses meeting counter-curses. Forbidden aspects. Hidden lineage
But none manage to give any sort of answer that can be believable.
"Why ?" she questioned, but ofcourse she got no answer from the mirror.
Her reflection didn't started back, in the mirror she saw saw him, the idiot, the pervert, the survivor, the anomaly.
'Alex or Sunless.'
She had already started investigating the movement he started learning swords arts from her. From the reports she has got, his real name is Sunless, but he goes around calling himself Alex. His whole life he has lived in outskirts, and he is also an orphan.
From the reports she has gotten he also has a sibling before but her whereabouts are also unknown.
But when she question him in the class.
"Where do you live?"
"A four-story house," he'd said with a grin, but Morgan could see a deep rooted fear and trauma in his crimson eyes.
"What about your family?"
"I've got parents and siblings." he said with a smile, but she notice that his red eyes were not smiling, they were trembling with fear and submission, almost as if they had done something to him
'Something very disturbing.'
But still she asked her last question.
"Where are they now?"
"...Don't know." he said with a shrugged, then he looked away, not wanting to meet her gaze.
She also notice one thing and that is his file was clean, even after his first nightmare the government doesn't have any information on him, only his name and background which was of Outskirts.
Their was no information about his family, his aspect, about his rank, his nightmare or anything related to his power. Morgan also wanted to find it herself but she decided not to after all, who knows maybe he will stopped coming in her class if she asked to many questions at same time.
But the task of questioning him was not easy since he always manage to get away from her questions with his weird ways.
She also decided to keep an eye on him when he interact with other sleepers of his age, and she notice two things about him.
First he is a troublemaker, not the bully kind but the one that constantly creates a trouble wherever they goes around, because whenever he goes around, he would snap at people, and sometimes cursed at them, why she don't know nor the sleepers who were his victims.
Seconds, He always answer the question asked from him, no matter what type of questions they are, as she has notice it herself.
Morgan remember the time when a silver haired girl, asked him for a duel and he response was "Fuck you".
Although the girl didn't show much emotions but Morgan was able to see her clenched fists. The girl was furious and then silver haired girl calmly asked about his family.
His response was "The one that is still alive unlike yours". Alex could have kept silence or go away, ignoring her like he did with most of the people but he answered her question, then walked away,
Morgan also notice that the answer was another lie, because today her agent has told her that his parents are dead, and he is an orphan.
Then, like puzzle pieces snapping into place, the truth hit her.
'He has to lie!!'
Her eyes widden as she come to a realization.
It wasn't choice—it was compulsion. Compulsion enforced by something deeper than shame or strategy.
A Flaw.
Her eyes widened slightly. One thought echoed:
"His Flaw isn't that he lies… It's that he's cursed not to tell the truth."
'Everything made sense now.'
The contradictions. The absurd stories. The way he kept digging his own grave with every sentence. He couldn't help it. His Flaw twisted his tongue the way hers twisted her touch.
And more terrifying?
Her Flaw didn't work on him.
Which meant… 'he has abilities that can help him to nullified Flaws of people on contact.'
Not forever. No. She had felt it return once she let go of him. But for those few seconds—she was just a woman, not a curse not a weapon created for mass destruction.
In those movements she felt like a human.
And that… was intoxicating.
"Hehehehe~"
She slowly stood, as she laughed a small hollow laugh left her mouth.
She then cover her mouth as she murmured
"You break rules, Alex…...even the divine ones."
No one else knew this, no one else even suspected him and she would keep it that way.
'He is mine now.' their was a strange glint on her eyes.
'Whether he liked it or not.'
Alex didn't know that his life has just gotten more interesting.
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The water hit my back like warm rain in hell. It wasn't relaxing—nothing in this world ever is—it just reminded me that I'm alive.
'Unfortunately.'
I leaned against the wall of the shower, hand busy with the most loyal relationship I've got going:
'Me and my right hand.'
Muttering under my breath, I started singing a song from my past life like it was some battle hymn from the cursed trenches of modern Earth:
🎵 I like to move it, move it… 🎵
I like to move it, move it…_
I like to—ah, forget it.
It was pathetic, really. I've survived dark orphanage, sociopathic parents, fucked up children's and a goth woman with thighs that could crush a grown bear—but here I am, in a shower stall, trying to not think about any of that while aggressively trying to forget the image of Morgan in that locker room.
(Yeah. That one's burned in now. Like a tattoo on the inside of my skull. Blessing and curse.)
I shut the water off and stood there for a second, listening.
Silence.
Which somehow felt worse than screaming.
Towel wrapped around my waist, I stepped out and dragged myself to the bed, water dripping like I was bleeding out after a battle I didn't even win.
I sat there, drying myself off, staring at the ceiling like it owed me money.
'Nine more days.' Nine more bloody days before in enter the Dream Realm.
'I could really die.' Or worse—I survive and things get weirder.
But lately? I've had this feeling.
Like something is watching me.
Not your usual "there's a cursed monster in the closet" feeling. No, this was worse. Intimate. Creepy. Like someone watching through a keyhole and breathing a little too hard.
At first, I thought it might be that entity—you know, the one that dumped me here like a toddler flinging a broken toy into a trash fire.
But then I thought… nah. That thing has bigger issues than tuning in to watch a semi-depressed teenager playing with his meat in a freezing shower.
Unless it did have a weird fetish..
Which—considering the state of this damn world—wouldn't surprise me.
"…Pervert deities. That's all I need," I muttered, flopping back onto the bed.
I closed my eyes, the towel still half on, half off.
Morgan's voice echoed faintly in my mind.
'Her crimson red eyes. Her damn sweet voice. Her damn thick thighs.'
"Ugh." I groaned, dragging my palms down my face like I was trying to peel off the stress.
'What the actual hell is wrong with me?' That woman could kill me with a sneeze, and the tragic part? No one would care. Probably applaud. Maybe even throw a damn parade.
With a resigned sigh, I got off the bed and shuffled to the wardrobe like a condemned man walking to the gallows.
Same tired clothes. White shirt, black pants, and the same old school shoes. I grabbed them anyway.
'Style is already dead in this world.'
While fixing my collar, I heard it.
{System installing... System installing...}
"KYAAAA!" I screamed like a six-year-old girl, who saw a cockroach in VR.
Whipping my head around, I searched the room like a paranoid lunatic.
"What the—who the hell's there?!"
Then came the voice. Deep. Mechanical. Drenched in digital doom.
{System successfully installed.}
{Congratulations, Host, for activating the Fate Change System}
I stared blankly at the blue screen hovering in front of me.
{.......}
"......."
{.......}
"Nope. Nope. Not doing this."
{Host—}
"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SO DAMN LATE, YOU USELESS MOTHERFU@#ER?!"
I recognized it instantly. The dreaded cheat-code companion of every reincarnated protagonist: The System.
Oh yes, I've read the books. The manga. The manhua. The dark web forums. These things are part guide, part genie, part parasitic control freak. They're designed to hand you power... and yank the leash just when you start enjoying it.
And the penalties for disobedience?
Let's just say "death" is the polite version.
I took a deep breath, clenching my fists.
'Time to make a decision.'
"FUCK. OFF."
The blue screen flickered, almost as if... startled.
{That is not possible, Host. I am bound to your existence. If I disappear... so do you.}
I let out a low, mocking laugh. One of those slow, Joker-level breakdown chuckles.
"Hahahaha... oh, really? Then go ahead. Do it. Pull the plug, motherfucker."
The screen glitched again.
{W-what? Host, y-you will die.}
"Exactly." I smiled, not the happy one but the one that has lost all the meaning.
"Death is better than being someone puppet."
Silence.
Then more laughter—mine Maniacal, broken, but victorious.
"What's the matter? System.exe having an existential crisis?"
{.......}
"I've seen your type. Read too many stories. You're the unskippable tutorial from hell—except you bring quests, hot and sexy wafius, and 'unrefusable' tasks. I've seen how this ends. Spoiler alert: with my head on a spear or my soul in a fucking JAR."
{Host, please... if I may just explain myself—}
"Oh, let me guess your sob story! You were human once, right? Died tragically. Got isekai'd into a USB stick and now you're here to help me 'fulfill my destiny'?"
"Or you are system send by that entity to fucked my already life more, for it own amusement righ."
"Or you could also be genuinely want to help, but who knows maybe it's all an act, maybe you want to use me so that you can take revenge on the entity that has made you like this.
"Their are hundred guesses i have on my mind, but i know their outcome and that is death of me."
The screen didn't respond.
'Good' hope it has finally learn to left me alone.
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"Y̵̟͎̠̽͘o̶̬̥͉͈͛̎͛̎͐̅͛̋u̴̥̼͕̞̒͊̏...̵̤͇̘̺̓͠ ̸͈͍̓̅͋̿̐̔̈́r̸̡̘͓̟̬͙̖̙͗͗̔̔͋͊́͠ȅ̷̤̬̹̝̞̩̰̀̔̀̓͆͘ä̶̛̼̘͈̺͖̹̖́̄̔͘͝͝l̵̛̞̯͕̱͍̪͍̈́̅̎̅͒͝l̶̯̱̮̼̩̯̳̋͌̿͆͘̚͠y̵̫̻̘͗̽͆̀͒͘̚ ̴̡̬̥̫̤̩̖̙̓͐̆̈́ā̶͓̘͈̲̝̞̲̳̎̈́̌̒͆͗͝r̷͖̝͙̼̗̦̖̍̆̌̿̇̕̕͠ͅe̸̞̲̘̮̞̺̠̘͛̃̾̐̄̈́͑...̶̢͍̮̫̬͓̑̅͂͐̇̕͝ ̴̛̛̗̼͔̩͇̲̙̺̅̑̅̏͊d̴̺̯͈͙̲̦̝͙̞̠̼͚͂͗̑͛͗͘͝i̷̖̱͍͖̮͓̠̋̈́͌̽̐̐̚͠͠͝f̴̩̘̹̐̾̒̕f̴̛̞̯̱̼̹͔̺͚̤̰̓̄̿̆͑̇͜͝e̸̛̖͕͎̝͖͍̲̗̞̼͗̇͑̍͝ŕ̴̛̥̞̝̠̗͕͙̲̹͌̋̍̕͝ė̴͇͚̞̺̜͍̲̪̀̓̒̋͐͌͊̕n̶͎̯̯̘̺̩̗̩̦̓̇̿̔̍̅̽̈́͛̚t̴̛̥͖̪͙̭̟̙̰͓̪̄̓͜͜͝ ̸̛͇͉̺̼̠̈́̿̓̓͗̚͝͝h̵̤̜̬̰͙̺̝͔͈͇̟̥͋̿̈́͘͝u̶͕̟͙͕̞̹̲̰͔̖̖͛̓̀̆̀̀̈́̐̄̚̚͠ͅh̸̛̠̤͈͍͍̯͈͍͉̝͚̬̙̎̀̑́͊̆̚?̶̥͇̮̞̜͉̦̘̳͍͈̼̍̒̇̿̆͝