After all the chaos, embarrassment, and pain, he sat on the bed, his face still throbbing from Scarlet's kick. His mind was racing, but he couldn't focus. It was too much—this strange place, that crazy assistant, and the sheer insanity of everything she'd said.
Scarlet, meanwhile, had crossed her arms and was tapping her foot impatiently, staring at him like she was waiting for him to catch up. When she finally spoke again, her voice was dripping with the same arrogant tone she'd had since she first appeared.
"Alright, listen up," she said, her words cutting through his dazed thoughts like a knife. "Since you're such a clueless piece of shit, let me break it down for you. Welcome to the Plot Armor Agency—the most prestigious organization behind every goddamn novel, movie, and story you've ever come across." She waved a hand dramatically, like she was presenting something grand, though her voice was thick with sarcasm.
He blinked, still trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. "Wait… what?"
Scarlet let out a sharp, annoyed sigh. "Do I really have to explain everything to you?" She rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. "The Plot Armor Agency is the backbone of every successful story. We're the ones who make sure those oh-so-special protagonists don't get killed off five minutes into their heroic quests. We give them the plot armor they need to survive whatever dumb shit they get themselves into. You ever wonder how some dumbass MC walks away from getting stabbed twenty times or survives a fall from a 10-story building? Yeah, that's us. We make sure those idiots can complete their storylines and get to the end without dying or getting fucked up by some overpowered villain."
His jaw dropped. "You mean… all those stories… you make sure they don't die?"
Scarlet snorted. "Of course. How else do you think they get through impossible situations? Do you honestly think natural talent is enough to survive a 300-chapter novel? Without us, they'd all be toast." She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "We give them the strength, the luck, the insane plot twists that save their asses at the last second. We're the gods of storytelling, and without us, there'd be nothing."
He stared at her, trying to process the sheer weight of what she was saying. "That's… insane."
"No," she said, her voice flat and cold. "What's insane is that I'm stuck babysitting you." She crossed her arms and looked down at him like he was dirt beneath her feet. "I'm a top-tier agent, and now I'm stuck here explaining basic shit to a loser like you."
He shifted uncomfortably under her glare. "So… how does this work, exactly?"
Scarlet rolled her eyes again, clearly frustrated that he didn't just get it. "The agency has a hierarchy, dumbass. At the top, there's the CEO—the big boss who oversees everything. Below that, you've got managers, like the one I should be if you don't screw everything up. Then there are full-time agents, who handle the more complicated storylines, followed by part-timers who get the smaller jobs."
"And then… there's you," she added with a sneer. "The lowest of the low. Temporary employee. You don't even get to pick your name here yet. Everything you have, everything you are, has to be earned." She practically spat the last word, making it clear just how much she despised his current position. "You'll be earning your name, your clothes, your status, your whole existence here. Welcome to hell."
He swallowed, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "And… what do I have to do?"
Scarlet gave him a hard look. "You have to submit at least one storyline every month. Think of it like freelance work, but with way more at stake. You get a beginner's package when you start out. That includes 100 Int Coins—the currency here and basic clothes. You'll need them to buy everything you need to survive. Clothes, food, basic living essentials, even the ability to bypass certain checkpoints in the storylines you're assigned. Without Int Coins, you're as good as dead here."
He nodded, feeling the weight of her words settling on his shoulders. "So… I have to use these coins to survive and clear storylines?"
"Exactly," she said with a wicked grin. "And since you're a temporary employee, you don't get shit unless you work for it. Each storyline you submit has to be approved by the publishers, or it doesn't count. Miss a deadline, and you're out."
"Out?" he repeated, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
Scarlet's grin turned darker, more malicious. "Out means kicked to the Abyss. A place for failures like you, who couldn't hack it in the agency. But like I said, don't worry—you won't be there long. I'll make sure to pluck your tiny crotch off and use your balls for golf long before they throw you down."
His face paled, and he felt another wave of panic rising. "O-okay, I get it! I'll do it! I'll meet the deadlines!"
Scarlet snorted, clearly amused by his desperation. "You better, or you'll be nothing more than a stain on the bottom of this agency's shoe."
His head was spinning. One storyline per month? Int Coins to buy even the basics like food and clothing? And if he failed, not only would he be thrown into some hellish void, but she'd personally take out her frustrations on his most sensitive areas.
This was beyond messed up.
As he sat there, still processing everything, Scarlet stepped closer again, looking down at him with that same cold, superior expression. "Look, let's make one thing clear," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You're lucky to even be here. Most people don't even make it this far. But don't mistake your position for anything special. You're at the bottom of the barrel, and the only reason you're not completely crushed is because I'm here to babysit you."
He clenched his fists, trying to fight back the humiliation burning in his chest.
"Just remember," she added, her lips curling into a smirk. "A piece of trash like you doesn't deserve to even breathe the same air as me. Consider yourself lucky you get to see me up close. It's probably the best thing that'll happen in your worthless life."
He felt anger bubbling up again, but there was nothing he could do. He was completely trapped, dependent on this nightmare of a woman for his survival. Still, deep inside, the fury was building. One day, he thought. One day, I'll make you pay for this, Bitch.
Scarlet gave him one last look of disdain, her eyes narrowing in disgust. "Here," she said, flicking her hand carelessly. In the air before him, a small stack of shimmering coins appeared, glowing with an otherworldly light. "That's your 100 Int Coins and your basic clothes. Use them wisely—or don't. I honestly couldn't give a shit. Just remember, you worthless pebble, don't disturb me before submitting your first storyline. I'll be checking it myself before it goes to the publishers. Last thing I need is you turning me into a joke in front of everyone else."
With that, she snapped her fingers and disappeared just as suddenly as she'd arrived, leaving not a trace behind. It was as if the whole encounter had been some bizarre fever dream, except for the fact that the Int Coins were still floating there in front of him.
He sat on the bed, feeling the weight of it all press down on him. His head was swimming, his mouth dry, and a bitter, foul taste lingered on his tongue. How low could this get? He didn't even have a name, and the most messed-up part was… he couldn't remember what his real name was. His heart sank as the reality hit him—that Bitch hadn't been lying. He actually had to earn his own name in this insane place.
He ran his hands through his hair, staring blankly at the coins, the sinking feeling of hopelessness creeping in. "What the Fuck did I do to deserve this?" he muttered to himself. The unfairness of it all gnawed at him, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Don't be discouraged," he whispered. "There will be a time when I'll make her pay for all of this. But for now…" He shook his head, clearing the thoughts of revenge from his mind. "I need to focus."
With a sigh, he first covered his butt nacked body with the basic clothes, the clothes look like simple plain blue with two white lines starting from one feet and ending on the second, it looked like some sci-fi prisoner clothes well he had to do any thing to survive then he reached out and touched the coins. As soon as his fingers brushed them, a new window appeared before him, floating in the air just like all the others.
You have received 100 Int Coins. Condition met for opening the Shop.
He didn't even flinch this time. He was starting to get used to these weird windows popping up out of nowhere. The shock was wearing off. He sighed again, leaning forward to get a better look at the interface that had materialized in front of him.
The shop window expanded, showing several different sections, each labeled in bold text. He skimmed over the categories quickly:
Daily Living Items
Storyline Shop
Chat System (Locked)
Lounge (Locked)
Everything but two categories were locked tight, like they were gated behind some kind of invisible barrier. Only "Daily Living Items" and "Storyline Shop" were available to him. Curious, he clicked on the Storyline section first. His eyes scanned the options.
The cheapest price listed? 100 Int Coins.
He groaned, running a hand down his face. "Of course, Why wouldn't it be" he muttered. "It's like they want me to Fucking go broke and grovel on my first day."
He slumped back onto the bed, staring up at the strange crystalline ceiling again. "I'm really fucked up," he muttered under his breath. It was starting to dawn on him just how deep he'd fallen into this mess. There was no escape. No name, no freedom, and only enough coins to barely get started.
He closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "One step at a time," he told himself. "First, get the storyline. Then… figure out how the hell to survive here."
The thought of Scarlet's smug face flashed in his mind, and he clenched his fists. One day, he thought darkly. One day, I'll make that bitch regret every word. But right now, he had to play by the rules—and those rules were stacked heavily against him.