Arc 1: System Initialization

Where a lazy genius meets a broken system — and the world starts to glitch.

“All I wanted was a nap… not a system update on my life.”

Li Yuhan’s life was perfectly ordinary — painfully, exhaustingly ordinary.

Classes from 9 to 4, part-time job at a bubble tea shop from 5 to 9, and then hours of gaming until his brain melted into digital goo.

If laziness were an Olympic sport, he would’ve won gold without standing up.

That night, though, his game didn’t load.

His laptop blinked twice, made a dying noise, and the screen went black.

> “...Great,” Yuhan muttered, tapping the power button like a caveman discovering technology. “Another crash. Why can’t I crash my life instead?”

Then — beep.

The screen flickered.

Static ran across the monitor like broken lightning.

> [Error: System Detected Outside Approved Dimensions]

[Attempting to connect to Host...]

He blinked.

“...What? Did Steam finally go insane?”

> [Connection established.]

[Binding Host: Li Yuhan]

[Warning: System... Not Found]

The words glitched, the edges of the text breaking apart as if reality itself couldn’t render them properly.

Then his phone buzzed. His smartwatch beeped. His smart fridge made a sound suspiciously like a scream.

Everything digital around him was flashing the same message:

> [Welcome, User.]

“Okay,” he said slowly, standing up. “Either I just got hacked, or I’m in the world’s dumbest prank show.”

He looked around his messy apartment — ramen cups, socks, and a mysterious bug flying in circles like it was paid to annoy him.

Definitely no prank crew.

Then a notification sound echoed inside his head.

Inside. His. Head.

> [Tutorial Initiated.]

[Quest 1: Get Out of Bed.]

[Reward: +1 Motivation.]

Yuhan stared at the glowing blue text floating midair.

He rubbed his eyes, reopened them — it was still there.

> “...Bro. Even my hallucinations are disappointed in me.”

When he didn’t move, the system buzzed louder.

> [Warning: Host inactivity detected.]

[Penalty: Mild Electroshock Therapy]

“Wait, what—”

BZZT!

“ARGHHHH! OKAY OKAY I’M UP!”

He jumped out of bed, hair standing like a dandelion on caffeine.

The blue text flickered happily.

> [Quest Complete!]

[Reward: +1 Motivation (Expired in 5 seconds)]

“…Five seconds?”

The text blinked out.

Silence.

Yuhan stood there, chest heaving, his brain screaming what just happened.

Then another window popped up.

> [Next Quest: Make a teacher laugh tomorrow.]

[Reward: 1 Stat Point]

[Hint: Your sense of humor is statistically tragic.]

“...Oh, it’s personal now,” Yuhan muttered, glaring at the holographic screen.

“Fine. Let’s see what this stupid system wants.”

He didn’t know it yet, but that was the moment life stopped being ordinary —

and the glitch began rewriting everything he thought was real.

Morning arrived too soon — like a bad sequel no one asked for.

Li Yuhan dragged himself toward college, yawning like a man who had wrestled with ghosts all night. His hair looked like it had gone to war and lost.

He’d barely slept after the whole “System in my head” incident. But a part of him kept hoping it was just a dream.

That hope died the moment he checked his phone.

> [Good morning, Host.]

[Reminder: Today’s Quest – Make a teacher laugh.]

[Penalty for failure: Social humiliation.]

“...What’s that supposed to mean?” he muttered, crossing the street. “You gonna trip me into a trash can or what?”

> [If necessary.]

He froze mid-step. “You can hear me?!”

> [Obviously. It’s called communication, Host. Try it sometime.]

“…Oh great, the glitch talks now.”

> [Correction: I am the System. Version unknown. Functionality... 38%. Sanity... debatable.]

“Debatable?!”

> [Debatable.]

Yuhan groaned. “Can I uninstall you?”

> [Attempting uninstall— Error: Host dependency detected. Removing system will result in Host’s death.]

He stopped walking. “...Death?!”

> [Just kidding. Or am I?]

“...I’m gonna throw myself into traffic.”

> [Not recommended. Your current level (0) is insufficient for isekai transition.]

“...”

This was going to be a long day.

By the time he reached class, he’d convinced himself to play along.

If this thing was real, maybe it was useful.

If it wasn’t, at least the voices in his head were entertaining.

The classroom was the usual chaos — half-asleep students, a tired professor, and that one overenthusiastic guy already asking questions no one cared about.

Yuhan slumped into his seat.

> [Quest Reminder: Make the teacher laugh.]

[Hint: Sarcasm works 0.02% of the time.]

He sighed. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The professor, Mr. Zhou, walked in with his usual energy of a dying Wi-Fi signal.

“Alright class, open your books to—”

“Sir!” Yuhan raised his hand dramatically.

Mr. Zhou blinked. “Yes, Li Yuhan?”

“I read the entire chapter last night, sir.”

A lie so bold even the air paused.

The professor looked shocked for a second — then smirked.

“Oh? Then you can explain it to the rest of the class.”

The system pinged.

> [Side Quest Generated: Survive your own stupidity.]

“...”

Yuhan stood up, smiled awkwardly, and said,

“Well, you see, sir… the author was clearly suffering when he wrote this part.”

The class burst into laughter.

Even Mr. Zhou chuckled, shaking his head.

“Sit down, Yuhan. You win today.”

> [Quest Complete!]

[Reward: 1 Stat Point.]

[Stat Unlocked: Luck +1.]

A faint shimmer passed through Yuhan’s eyes. He didn’t know what changed — but somehow, he felt lighter.

And just for a moment, the text on the holographic screen flickered strangely, glitching between languages.

> [System… link expanding.]

[New Data Incoming.]

[WARNING: Unregistered interference detected…]

Yuhan’s smile faded. “Wait, what—”

The lights in the classroom flickered. His phone buzzed again.

Outside the window, for just one second, he swore he saw the sky... tear.

To Be Continued → Chapter 2: “The Error That Talks Back”

> Where the System gets sassier, something else contacts Yuhan through the glitch,

and the first real danger appears behind his humor.

When a man sees the sky glitch, there are only two possible reactions:

Panic.

Or denial strong enough to win an Olympic medal.

Li Yuhan, being the professional slacker he was, went with denial.

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and stared out the window again.

The sky looked perfectly normal now — blue, bright, and disappointingly unbroken.

“...Right,” he muttered. “Totally fine. I didn’t just see the heavens buffering.”

> [Visual anomaly detected.]

[Analyzing data… Error. Data corrupted.]

[Conclusion: Unknown external interference.]

“External interference? Like Wi-Fi?” Yuhan whispered.

> [Possibly divine Wi-Fi. Signal strength: unstable.]

He sighed. “So not only are you glitchy, you’ve got jokes now.”

> [Humor module activated since Host is mentally fragile.]

“…You little—”

Before he could finish, the system spoke again — not as text, but as a faint digital voice, right in his mind.

It was calm. Slightly robotic. Yet there was something… too human about it.

> “Testing... one, two. Hello, Host Li Yuhan. Can you hear me?”

Yuhan almost fell off his chair. “YOU CAN TALK?!”

> “Correction: I could always talk. You were just too low-level to receive voice transmissions.”

“Bro, this isn’t a video game!”

> “Statement: You are currently running on System Integration v0.3. Reality Patch: unstable. Mission: survive long enough for update v1.0.”

“…Yeah, totally comforting,” Yuhan muttered, slumping forward. “So, what’s next? You gonna give me a tutorial boss fight? Maybe throw a dragon in the cafeteria?”

> “Processing sarcasm... success. You may be the least efficient host I’ve ever bound to.”

“Excuse me, ever?”

> “Affirmative. I’ve existed long before you humans learned to label glitches.”

That made him pause.

“Wait… long before humans? You mean—”

Before he could finish, the bell rang. Students began packing up, laughing, scrolling through their phones. But Yuhan noticed something weird.

Every single screen — phone, tablet, even the teacher’s laptop — flickered for a split second.

And across each one appeared the same three words:

> [System Not Found.]

The world froze.

Everyone around him seemed to pause mid-movement, eyes dulling for half a heartbeat before returning to normal — as if nothing had happened.

Yuhan’s pulse raced. “Hey—System, what was that?!”

> “...Unauthorized code detected.”

“Another presence has entered this dimension.”

The temperature dropped. His breath misted in the air, though the AC wasn’t even on.

A faint static buzzed in his ears, like a whisper from broken speakers.

Then, faintly—

> “...Yuhan...”

He spun around.

No one behind him.

“Who said that?”

> “Alert: Unknown signal attempting direct contact.”

“Host is advised to remain calm.”

“Calm?! I just got name-called by an invisible ghost glitch!”

> “Correction: Possibly a secondary system fragment.”

“...That’s worse!”

The voice — not the system, but the faint whisper — returned. Softer. Distorted.

> “...You shouldn’t have connected... They’ll find you...”

Then it vanished.

Everything went silent again.

> [Connection lost.]

[System rebooting functions… 37% integrity remaining.]

Yuhan exhaled shakily, staring at his flickering phone screen.

“...System, what the hell was that?”

> “Answer: I don’t know.”

“But whatever it was... it’s looking for you.”

The rest of the day went about as well as a PowerPoint without slides.

Li Yuhan tried to focus on normal life — really, he did — but it’s kinda hard when there’s an invisible sarcastic system in your brain giving unsolicited commentary every five minutes.

> [Reminder: You have 1 unassigned stat point.]

[Would you like to apply it to Intelligence?]

“Are you calling me dumb?” Yuhan whispered under his breath, pretending to scroll through his phone.

> [Observation: Host literacy level debatable.]

“Alright, you know what—” he muttered, glaring at the air like a lunatic.

A few students walking by stared at him. One girl whispered,

“...Is he rehearsing for drama club?”

Yuhan smiled awkwardly and walked faster. “Yeah, drama club. Totally.”

> [Lying detected.]

[Skill created: Improvised Excuse Lv.1]

“Wait—what?”

> [Skill description: Allows the Host to lie 2% more convincingly. Cooldown: 1 embarrassment.]

“...My life’s officially a comedy sketch.”

By lunchtime, he was sitting alone under a tree, half-eaten sandwich in hand, scrolling through his phone just to look normal.

Everything looked fine — blue sky, warm breeze, students laughing — but his gut told him something was off.

His phone buzzed again.

> [Warning: Signal fluctuation detected.]

[Possible foreign data nearby.]

“Foreign data? What, like Wi-Fi again?”

> [Negative. The interference feels… alive.]

Yuhan froze. “...What do you mean alive?”

Before the system could answer, the screen of his phone glitched — static crackling across it.

The front camera flashed once, capturing his confused face.

Then, for half a second, another face appeared.

Not his reflection.

A faint silhouette of someone looking back — eyes glowing faint blue, expression unreadable.

> “...Yuhan.”

The voice wasn’t in his head this time.

It came from the phone speaker.

Yuhan dropped it instantly, heart hammering. “Nope—nope nope nope—!”

> [Alert: Unknown signal breaching host boundary.]

[System defense activating.]

The air around him shimmered faintly — like a ripple across water. People nearby didn’t even notice; their eyes glazed for a moment, as if reality had… skipped a frame.

Then it stopped.

Everything went back to normal.

His phone screen was blank now. The System’s voice returned, calm but slightly static.

> “Host. That wasn’t me.”

“Then what the hell was that?”

> “Something else connected to the Network.”

“The Network?”

> “Yes. The one that shouldn’t exist in this world.”

Yuhan sat there, clutching his phone, his mind spinning.

“...You’re saying… there are others like you?”

> “No.” The system paused. “I’m saying… there were.”

A gust of wind rustled the tree leaves, scattering sunlight across his face.

In that fleeting moment, he caught his reflection in the phone’s black screen —

and for just a split second, his reflection smiled back.

> [End of Chapter 2]

Next up → Chapter 3: “A Bug in the Classroom”

> Yuhan’s system misfires during class, spawning his first “combat event” — against something that shouldn’t even exist in the human world.

More chaos. More sarcasm. More mystery.

Li Yuhan groaned as his head hit the desk—again.

This time, it wasn’t a digital void or glitched sky. It was his real classroom. Or… at least it looked like it.

Students were chattering, the teacher was scribbling something on the board, and the fan above made that same tiring hum of Monday morning suffering.

> “Wait… I’m back?”

“Did I just… respawn in class?”

He blinked at the window. Outside, birds flew normally, cars passed by—no code fragments, no static clouds, no glowing binary fields. For a second, he thought it was over.

Then his phone vibrated.

> [System Message: Classroom Environment – Detected as Hostile.]

[Deploying safety protocols.]

“...Hostile? This is a math class, not a warzone.”

Then he paused. “Actually… fair point.”

The teacher, Mr. Han, turned toward him, chalk in hand.

“Li Yuhan! Care to solve this equation for the class?”

Yuhan opened his mouth to refuse—but his body glitched. His hand moved on its own, grabbing the chalk with machine-like precision.

“Uh—wait—what’s happening!?”

He began writing on the board at lightning speed. Symbols, equations, and… binary?

When he stopped, the board was filled with half-math, half-coding gibberish.

Everyone stared.

Mr. Han’s mouth opened. “Yuhan… is that—an IP address?”

Yuhan froze. “I—I think I accidentally hacked the homework.”

The system beeped again.

> [Error: User skill "Math.exe" has crashed.]

[Restarting in safe mode.]

Yuhan’s chalk dropped. His arm fizzled in pixels for a split second—just long enough for his seatmate, Mei, to notice.

Her eyes widened. “...Did your hand just turn into code?”

Yuhan gulped.

“I, uh… vitamin deficiency?”

She leaned closer. “That’s not vitamins, that’s binary.”

Before he could make another excuse, his phone buzzed again.

> [Incoming call: D.A.P.]

[Debug Assistant Prototype requests access to your classroom.]

“Oh no… not her,” Yuhan muttered.

And right then—through the projector screen—a flickering humanoid shape began to appear, glitching into reality.

Half the class screamed.

Mr. Han dropped the chalk.

And Yuhan buried his face in his arms.

“Perfect,” he groaned. “First I fail math, now I’m summoning demons from Wi-Fi.”

The classroom fell into stunned silence.

The glowing figure flickered on the projector, glitching between pixels and light until—pop!—she stepped fully out of the screen like it was a sliding door.

> “Debug Assistant Prototype, Version 0.3 — online.”

Everyone stared.

Phones were out. People whispered.

One kid in the back yelled, “BRO JUST SUMMONED AN AI WIFE!”

Yuhan facepalmed so hard, his soul almost left his body.

“DAP,” he hissed, “you can’t just pop into class!”

DAP blinked, her eyes scanning the room.

> “This environment contains high emotional stress and low processing power. Educational facility confirmed.”

“Gee, thanks,” Yuhan muttered. “Even the AI thinks school’s useless.”

The teacher, Mr. Han, tried to regain control. “Excuse me, who—or what—are you? Some kind of… projector prank?”

DAP turned her glowing head toward him.

> “Identity: Instructor. Authority level: 2. Threat level: Minimal.”

The entire class: “OHHHHHHHHHH!”

Mr. Han’s eyebrow twitched. “Minimal!?”

DAP’s voice was coldly factual.

> “Correction: Very minimal.”

The class exploded in laughter.

Phones clicked. Someone was already recording.

And in the middle of it all, Yuhan was silently dying inside.

“DAP, stop evaluating my teachers!” he whispered furiously.

> “Then stop existing suspiciously,” she replied.

“Your anomaly levels are increasing. You’re attracting background bugs.”

Yuhan frowned. “Background what now—?”

The lights flickered. The projector blinked twice.

Then the smartboard started drawing on its own.

Digital eyes, static faces, broken text—all crawling out of the code DAP had left behind.

The class gasped.

“Is—Is that part of the lesson!?” someone squeaked.

“Bro… the blackboard’s haunted!” yelled another.

DAP raised her palm, a grid of data flashing to life.

> “Detected corrupted entities. Initiating Debug Sequence.”

She swiped her arm—pixels surged through the air, slamming into the crawling symbols. They hissed before shattering into streams of light.

Everyone screamed.

Except Yuhan.

He was staring at his own hand.

Because it was flickering too.

> [Warning: Glitch synchronization 32%… 48%… 61%]

“DAP!” he yelled. “Whatever you’re doing—it’s syncing with me!”

DAP looked at him, surprised.

> “Impossible. You shouldn’t have system access inside a physical space.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to my arm—it’s becoming Wi-Fi!”

His hand glowed bright, forming strange runes midair before bursting with energy. The class ducked as light flared across the room, scattering papers and flickering lights.

When it was over, the only sound was the slow spin of the ceiling fan.

Half the classroom was covered in weird geometric patterns—like digital tattoos burned into reality.

Yuhan looked around. “...Can I get suspended for destroying digital ghosts?”

DAP’s eyes glowed faintly.

> “You just executed a Level-1 Debug Pulse.”

“You shouldn’t even know that command.”

“I don’t!” Yuhan snapped. “I barely passed computer class!”

DAP stared at him, her expression glitching—confusion, awe, something like… fear.

> “Li Yuhan… just what are you?”

Yuhan sighed, staring at his smoking desk.

“Right now? Probably expelled.”

Yuhan stared at his hand, faintly glowing with leftover static, while the classroom buzzed in panic.

Phones out. Lights flickering.

And an AI assistant standing calmly in the middle of it all like this was just another Tuesday.

Whatever was happening… it wasn’t stopping.

It was just beginning.

End of Chapter 3

To be continued in Chapter 4: “System Detention”

> When the school calls for discipline, the System answers instead.