Rudius was scrolling through his phone in class, half-listening to the droning lecture, when a group chat notification pinged.
He let his guard down and tapped it—a rookie mistake.
The image that loaded was classic Little Red Sweet Potato garbage: a screencap of some self-proclaimed “fairy” bragging—in exquisite detail—about how she’d been juggling three dates behind her boyfriend’s back.
The comment section was a cesspool of praise.
Rudius felt his blood pressure spike.
He closed the image, left the chat, and shoved his phone into his pocket—but the sour taste in his mouth lingered.
No wonder so many guys are cynical these days, he thought bitterly.
With “fairies” like that running around, a man who’s too honest is just asking to be played.
BEEP.
“Loading successful.”
“Welcome to the Life Achievement System. This system has recorded your innermost wish and will guide you toward becoming an outstanding scumbag.”
Rudius froze.
Subtitles shimmered in his field of vision like a hallucination.
He glanced around the classroom—no one was looking.
The professor was still droning; his classmates were either nodding off or taking notes.
No one had noticed a thing.
His heart hammered.
An impossible thought surfaced.
Is this…
my Golden Finger?
A system designed to turn him into a scumbag?
His expression twisted.
That bitter thought earlier had been exactly that—a fleeting vent, born of anger.
He didn’t actually want to hurt anyone.
But the system wasn’t interested in his moral qualms.
It ignored him entirely, the translucent text scrolling onward.
“Each scumbag act will earn you a certain number of Scumbag Points. Being a scumbag is a high-risk profession—these points may be used to enhance your survival capabilities.”
Wait— risk to his life?
Rudius’s face cycled through several expressions in rapid succession.
The only silver lining was that the points could improve his survival skills.
Whatever that meant.
The subtitles faded.
Silence.
He tried calling out to the system in his mind—once, twice, three times.
Nothing.
No response, no flicker, no confirmation that it had ever been there at all.
Left with no choice, he shoved the bizarre encounter to the back of his mind and forced himself to focus on the lecture.
The professor was already shooting him pointed looks.
When class finally ended, students streamed out in clusters.
Next period was PE—a rare reprieve from the academic grind.
But Rudius lingered, his curiosity burning.
He tried again.
Mentally reached out, prodded, pleaded, demanded.
Still nothing.
The system might as well have been a fever dream.
He sighed, glanced around—he was the only one left in the room—and stood to leave.
At the doorway, still distracted, he nearly collided with someone.
He pulled up short just in time.
“Sorry—wasn’t looking.”
He looked up.
She was standing there like a porcelain doll brought to life: delicate features, fair skin flushed faint pink, lips pressed thin as rose petals.
Her dark eyes, clear and sharp, fixed him with a look of unmistakable annoyance.
Without a word, she brushed past him into the classroom, ignoring him entirely.
Rudius felt the sting of the cold shoulder—even if it was his fault.
He couldn’t exactly complain.
This was Jasmine, after all: the class’s star academic representative.
Beautiful, brilliant, and famously frosty toward boys.
Her treating him like air was par for the course.
Still, his gaze lingered a second too long on her silhouette as she walked away.
He caught himself, turned, and left.
Behind him, Jasmine’s eyes swept the empty classroom—and her expression shifted to something faintly interested.
Rudius reached the stairwell, ready to head down, when the subtitles blazed back to life.
“To be a scumbag, one must do scumbag things. At this moment, you suddenly realize that Jasmine should not be returning to the classroom right now. You decide to investigate—and record Jasmine’s unspeakable secret on your phone.”
He stared at the prompt.
Jasmine’s unspeakable secret?
What was she planning to do in there?
The system didn’t give prompts for nothing.
Curiosity kindled in his chest—but caution held him back.
Getting tangled in other people’s drama was a surefire way to invite trouble.
Then the subtitles refreshed.
“You still have reservations about becoming a scumbag, so you decide to become a pervert instead. Strip naked and streak back into the classroom to shock your female classmates.”
Rudius’s face turned green.
This system was a trap.
He made his choice without hesitation.
Compared to social annihilation via public nudity, being a scumbag seemed almost respectable.
The subtitles dissolved.
He exhaled, hesitated for only a moment, then turned back toward the classroom.
The bell had rung minutes ago.
The hallway was empty.
The back door of his classroom sat conveniently near the stairwell.
He paused at the threshold, pulled out his phone, and activated the camera.
Then he leaned in, just enough to see.
Inside, Jasmine stood alone in the empty room.
After a brief hesitation, she reached into a desk—Emma’s desk, Rudius recognized—and pulled out a backpack.
What’s she doing with Emma’s stuff?
An elegant face surfaced in his memory: Emma’s deep, indifferent eyes, her aloof bearing.
Like Jasmine, she was one of the class beauties—but where Jasmine was sharp, Emma was still water.
Rudius watched.
An unusual flush crept across Jasmine’s fair cheeks.
Her jaw tightened.
Slowly, deliberately, she unzipped the backpack.
From his angle, Rudius couldn’t see the contents—but he could read Jasmine’s expression.
Nervousness.
Surprise.
Disdain.
Then, suddenly, excitement.
She plunged her hand inside, rummaging eagerly.
Is she stealing?
Did she find something valuable?
Confusion swirled, but he kept recording.
He didn’t dare stop—who knew what perverted alternative the system would throw at him next?
Then Jasmine pulled something out.
Rudius’s eyes went wide.
A pink egg.
A female-oriented toy.
Emma brought this to school?
She’s insane.
Jasmine examined it with rapt fascination, then reached back into the bag and produced another item.
Rudius nearly dropped his phone.
Bringing that to school?
What was wrong with girls these days?
The image of Emma—cold, untouchable, pristine Emma—shattered in his mind.
These toys were the last thing he’d associate with her.
Jasmine gripped the second object, her face burning red, expression caught between excitement and mortification.
Rudius’s brain struggled to process: Is Jasmine into this stuff too?
He didn’t have time to analyze.
He just kept filming.
In the empty classroom, a beautiful girl held a sinister-looking object, her face alight with barely suppressed fever—and she had no idea she was being watched.
Rudius’s pulse pounded in his ears.
Then ripples shimmered across his vision.
“Route 1: You realize Jasmine has a peculiar obsession with uncovering others’ secrets—especially those who project an image of purity. The more righteous they seem, the more she wants to dig. What she doesn’t realize is that her own actions right now are her unspeakable secret. You decide to use the video to blackmail her into a date.”
“Route 2: Although you’ve discovered her secret, you have no intention of blackmailing her. Instead, you feel the thrill of finding a kindred spirit. You decide to appear before her, kneel, and request to kiss her toes.”
Rudius: ????