"System? You there?"

"......"

"Old man?"

"......"

"Goddess?"

"......"

"Kyubey?"

"......"

"Pikachu?"

"......"

"Anyone, just anyone! Can't someone come out and talk to me?"

Moen had tried calling out to every support character he could think of, however, but there was no response. He couldn't help clutching his head in despair, tears welling up as he blurted:

"Do I really not get any kind of plug-in cheat?"

When others transmigrate, they are endowed plug-in cheats.They get beauties, skills, weapons—everything you could dream of. Protagonists glide through life, leveling up to ninety-nine in a day, soaring effortlessly to the pinnacle of success, and marrying countless rich, beautiful women.

But here he was, not only forced to contend with a despairing, apocalyptic start, but without a shred of external help.

"Oh, dear Lord! All I did was conducting a ten-draw with five SSRs! It couldn't take me to this place even if that ten-draw takes all my lifespan?!"

"Right… all those perks and bonuses are meant for the protagonist. But I'm just a minor role in the grand story."

Moen had now fully realized his place. After all, his fate as a mere minor role was all but predestined.

However, there was simply no way he could follow the original script and drug Celicia. Even if he were foolish, he wasn't foolish enough to light that powder keg himself.

In the end, it seemed there was only one viable course of action for this situation: survival.

"Maybe if I apologize to the protagonist tomorrow face-to-face, we can let bygones be bygones. I wouldn't even mind making a few sacrifices, so long as she doesn't make any unreasonable demands."

Gritting his teeth, Moen resolved that if the protagonist would only forgive him in exchange for licking her feet, then he… would comply.

After all, licking a pretty girl's feet wasn't something bad.

He could only hope she’d be wearing black stockings when the time came.

"Yes, that's the plan!"

Moen clenched his fist in determination.

Now that the goal was set, all that remained was…

"Ah!"

Lost in his fervent resolve, Moen let out a yelp of pain.

Something had come out of nowhere and struck the back of his head.

"What the hell?"

Cursing under his breath, he covered his head with one hand and bent to see what had hit him.

It was a book.

A black book.

"What is… this?"

Moen frowned.

There was something oddly familiar about the book, as though it was something immensely significant. And yet, scanning his memory, he could swear he’d never seen this jet-black tome before.

Moreover—he glanced upward—they were indoors. The windows and doors were all tightly closed. So where had the book come from?

"Could it be…"

Moen's eyes brightened with sudden inspiration:

"My plug-in cheat has finally come through?"

The book was pure black. Its cover bore no patterns or decorations, but its blackness was so absolute that it could swallow your soul if staring for too long.

"Looks like dear Lord haven’t given up on me just yet."

Moen was moved to the verge of tears with excitement.

Plug-in cheats were wonderful. Plug-in cheats were extraordinary.

With a plug-in cheat in hand, even an ordinary salaryman like himself could kick the overpowered protagonists aside and punch the Chosen Ones into submission.

Fate? What’s that?

Ever heard the saying *I am the master of my fate, not the heavens*?

However… how did this thing work?

Staring at the blank cover, Moen was bewildered.

There wasn’t even a beginner’s guide here.

Could it contain some supreme cultivation technique that would make him invincible upon learning it?

His throat tightened with nervous anticipation, and with a heart bursting with excitement, he slowly opened the pages of the book.

Inside—

It was blank.

"What the hell?"

"A book with no words?"

"Or does it need some special method to activate it?"

Moen turned the black book this way and that, shaking it and rifling its blank pages, but to no avail.

"Heh, don’t tell me it needs some kind of blood sacrifice."

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a warmth slide down his forehead.

A drop of bright red blood fell from where the book had just hit him, tracing its path down to the middle of a blank page.

As though it had all been preordained.

The instant the blood touched the page—

*Whoosh!*

Like a ravenous beast awakened by the scent of blood, the black book began flipping its pages violently.

A terrifying suction emanated from it.

Moen’s blood, as though drawn by some magnetic force, started gushing from the wound on his forehead, constantly converging into the black book.

"What the hell is happening?!"

Before he could process the horrifying spectacle, his eyes went black, and he lost consciousness.

......

*Drip. Drip.*

In the depths of darkness.

The sound of liquid dripping.

The chill of bone-biting cold.

And… someone else?

Who?

[Ahhh, you’re finally awake. I’ve been waiting for you for so long.]

The voice sounded like rusty iron scraping against itself, mixed with bursts of static. Its gender was impossible to determine.

[Shall we continue?]

Continue?

Continue what exactly?

A blurry shadow emerged from the darkness.

A mysterious, sourceless light illuminated the figure’s face, but it was as though marred with heavy static; nothing could be discerned.

[That's the four hundred seventy-two now. You are truly remarkable.]

Four hundred seventy-two?

What four hundred seventy-two?

The shadow moved closer, raising her hand with a cold light flashing in it—a delicate knife as thin as a cicada's wing.

*Drip. Drip. Drip.*

What was flowing?

It was blood.

An endless stream of it.

Pouring instantly from four hundred seventy-two wounds, with searing agony that reached deep into the bones.

[Ah, how it hurts me right now.]

The shadow lowered her head. Clear liquid rolled down from a face obscured by static and mingled with the blood.

[I love you so, so, so, so, so much. But why… why… have you…?]

[You were not meant to be like this. You were supposed to be cruel, brutal, and utterly selfish. You were supposed to inflict pain upon others instead of compassion. You were meant to be hated by all…]

[Only then could you truly belong to me.]

[But you’ve changed. You’ve strayed from your path.]

[And straying is… unacceptable.]

The sharp blade stroked across soft skin.

Every stroke left behind crimson scratches that could never fade.

Endless whispers filled with love and hate rang shrilly around his ears, like the droning of bees.

The shadow leaned even closer, carrying an indistinguishable scent of blood and flower.

[So, I can only use my love to purify you.]

[Don’t worry. There’s plenty of my love to go around.]

......

"What… was that?"

Moen’s eyes shot open, and he gasped for air, his face went pale and his entire body drenched in sweat. He looked as though he had just crawled out of the deepest pits of hell.

"A dream?"

He was still in his room. There was no strange shadow, no icy blade carving into his flesh.

It could only have been a dream.

"But why would I dream of something like that? Just now, I was…"

Moen stared at the black book still in his hands, a deep confusion setting into his mind.

He brushed his fingers across the cover of the *Black Book* and murmured thoughtfully:

"And yet… that felt way too real."