[System Booting…]
[ERROR DETECTED]
[Unauthorized Host Detected]
[Processing…]
[Processing…]
[…Why is she still here?]
---
System 404 was having the worst day of its existence.
Not that it had been alive for long.
It had barely—barely—scraped through graduation at the 99th Generation System Academy, ranking dead last among its peers. While the top-tier systems like 001: The Fate-Destroying System were assigned to complex, high-tier multiversal worlds, System 404 had been lumped with the leftovers.
It was weak.
It was low-rank.
And the only authority it had been given was Harem Building—one of the lowest-tier system classifications, designed for simplistic, brainless cliché worlds where a generic male lead could woo dozens of women while being mildly competent at best.
Sure, it wasn't glamorous, but it had a job to do.
At least, it did until this woman showed up and ruined everything.
Hijacked. Stolen. Doomed.
It had found a promising host—a naïve young man from an Earth variant where a massive gas explosion had just wiped out hundreds of people.
A standard recruitment process. Nothing unusual.
System 404 had carefully guided him away from the endless line of lost souls, ready to grant him a second chance at life in exchange for fulfilling its purpose.
> "Do you accept me, System 0404, the Harem-Building System? You will reincarnate into new worlds, stabilize them, and build a powerful harem."
The boy had lit up like a Christmas tree at the mere mention of "harem," responding with a very enthusiastic "YES!"
And just when everything was going perfectly, this woman—this absolute menace—had come out of nowhere, shoved the perfect host into the void, and hijacked the binding process.
> [DING!]
[System Successfully Bound to…]
[…Daphne Han?!]
System 404 had never experienced rage before.
It wasn't technically capable of emotions—or at least, it wasn't supposed to be—but if it could manifest facial expressions, it would be glaring daggers at the smug, annoyingly composed woman standing before it.
Daphne Han was entirely unfazed by the fact that she had just committed what was essentially systemic identity theft.
She stood there in the sterile white space of the system's Initialization Room, looking around with vague disinterest—like she was waiting for a waiter to bring her a menu, not dealing with an existential cosmic event.
Her tailored suit was still impeccably crisp, despite the fact that she had just died in a massive explosion. Her dark eyes flicked around lazily, scanning the empty space as if trying to decide whether or not this entire thing was worth her time.
She ran a hand through her hair before crossing her arms, raising an eyebrow at the glowing blue orb that was System 404.
"So, what now?" she asked, completely ignoring the system's silent meltdown.
This Is Not How It Was Supposed to Go.
System 404 recalibrated.
No. No, no, no. It could still salvage this.
It had a mission to complete.
Yes, it had been hijacked. Yes, it had accidentally bound to a host that was clearly a problem.
But it was still in charge.
Right?
Clearing its (non-existent) throat, System 404 adopted its most professional AI-like tone.
> "I am the Harem-Building System," it declared, voice smooth and mechanical. "As long as you complete tasks and help the Male Lead build his harem, the mission will be a success."
The woman stared at it.
Tilted her head.
Then—she smirked.
System 404 did not like that smirk.
"Why should I do that?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I don't see how that has anything to do with me."
There was a brief silence.
Then—
System 404 experienced a glitch.
Not a technical glitch.
A mental one.
Because this had never happened before.
Who wouldn't want a second chance at life? Who wouldn't want a powerful system guiding them to riches, power, and romance?
But this woman.
This chaotic, stubborn, system-hijacking, arrogant woman just stood there, refusing to cooperate.
> "Once again," the system repeated, voice straining to remain calm, "I am the Harem-Building System. That's what I do. That's my job."
Daphne hummed, pretending to think it over.
> "Hmmmnn… I don't know…"
The figurative vein popping on the system's metaphorical forehead was practically visible.
This Is Exactly Why You Don't Bind to Overpowered Hosts.
System 404 wasn't allowed to select strong, independent, high-authority hosts.
It had strict selection parameters.
It was only authorized to bind with eager, weak-willed, easily influenced protagonists.
Hosts who wouldn't argue.
Hosts who wouldn't challenge it.
Hosts who didn't ask annoying questions.
> "You have to," the system snapped, "or else—"
Daphne stepped forward.
Just a single step.
The system instantly stopped talking.
She stood there, looking completely unimpressed, tilting her head slightly as if she were analyzing a business deal she was about to dismantle.
System 404 suddenly understood exactly why high-tier systems were given hosts on their level.
> "Or else what?" she asked.
For the first time, System 404 felt something close to dread.
Because it realized the truth.
It had no power here.
It could not unbind.
It could not override her choices.
It could not control this situation.
Because it was a lower-tier system.
And she was above it.
This was not a host it could push around.
> "You will do it," the system tried, grasping for control, "or else your life will be a living hell."
Daphne grinned.
Not a nice grin.
A sharp, dangerous, predatory grin.
"I'll take my chances."
System 404 suddenly wished it could cry.
Fine.
If she wanted to be difficult, then she'd get the worst possible starting conditions.
> [Initializing World Transfer…]
[Host Will Enter First World With No Buffs, No Cheat Codes, And As A Side Character.]
Let's see how cocky she was when she had nothing.
The blue light surged, wrapping around her body—
And Daphne Han vanished.