EPILOGUE
The sound of filthy moans and groans seeped out from under the door. A figure stopped in front of the door. The figure’s hand stopped above the metal cylinder doorknob. The tremor on her hand couldn’t stop, ultimately revealing the deepest pain in her heart.
The rattling behind the closed door didn’t slow down; it quickened just like the sound of the woman’s heart shattering. She let go of the doorknob and turned her body around. Her back was facing the door this time as her leg led her away from the big door. She stopped in front of a room downstairs and opened the door. Her movement resembled a doll. Stiff and lifeless until her body hit the bed. Right then, her back shook violently as a roll of tears streamed down her freckled face, though no sound left her mouth as she covered it with her hands.
WHOOSH!
A whizz of dust formed together to make a small, metallic, round object, almost like a blob. “Host?” The voice was mechanical and professional. “Host, you have to finish your mission. Please pick up yourself and confront the male lead.” The object didn’t stop talking. The voice was practically mocking the woman. It almost makes her cry harder.
“Why me?” She asked in between the sobs. “Why do I have to keep doing this?”
“It’s in our contract,” the object answered. The trembling woman was pulled back into the past when she was in ‘The Transit’. The object had appeared in front of her when she was disoriented about her whereabouts. One moment she was in her office, working her ass off late at night; the next, she woke up in ‘The Transit’. The object known as “The System” had approached her when she walked at the front of the line.
It had said, “I’m your system, and you’re my host. You will be given a second chance at life as long as you succeed in the mission given to you.” The thought of not living her life before rushed to her mind...or was it The System showing it to her? The woman couldn’t remember it clearly, but she knew she was angry and regretful for not living her life as much as she could. The image of her college friends partying and clubbing in different countries filled her mind. It’s very unfair that she was stuck doing labour for some millionaires while her friends get to live their best life. In the end, she agreed to the arrangement and was thrown into this world, apparently a story. Her mission sounds simple enough: “Win the male lead’s heart,” and she would be given a second life.
With The System’s ability, she managed to wade through the male lead’s attention and, sooner, his heart. She thought she was close to her second life, but she later found out that the man never loved her. Not like he loved his childhood best friend. She was her replacement, and thus, The System redeemed her mission as having zero progress and told her to work harder. Cry harder. Beg him harder. Lower herself harder. How much harder does she have to do? How much more of this humiliation must she face to win his heart? Every time The System told her the male lead’s heart wavered, she hoped and even prayed it would stay, but her heart plummeted just like the male lead’s love for her. Just like today, when he took that first love of him in his room, like she didn’t exist in that house. Maybe in his eyes, she didn’t.
“I can’t take it anymore. I want to stop,” she said.
“You will be punished. Are you sure?” The System said as it projected a video of previous hosts who cut the contract off halfway, being thrown into a vat of acid, signalling the end of their chances and, ultimately, their lives. The voice of their despair stopped her tears as she froze at the video in terror. She looked at The System, terrified. “Are you certain to end our contract, host?”
Unbeknownst to them, a short, cylindrical, metallic object was watching them while it was waiting for its worker. The face of the object was full of scratches, and its side had a big metal plate in a lighter colour than the rest of its body. The screen, the object was watching, flickered into another host, bowing deeply to another man. The man on the screen brushes it off before he walks away. On the screen, the man rolled up his sleeve, showing a metal arm. The man was seen pushing a button on his arm before a portal opened on the screen and in front of the object.
The man on the screen stepped in the portal and appeared in front of the object.
“You’re back,” a mechanical female voice greeted the man with a hint of excitement.
“I need a rest,” the man said while yawning as he plopped his body down on the sofa next to a bookshelf at the corner of the room.
“We have another mission,” the mechanical voice said as the cylindrical object zoomed from where it was hovering to the corner of the room where the man had already relaxed his body. His mind drifted back and forth as his eye fluttered shut.
“Later,” the man grumbled, turning his body away from the object hovering above him. The cushion rustled at his movement.
“A woman in her 20s. Her name is Kayla. An office worker in her past life and is working under contract to win over the story’s male lead---”
“Shut up!” The man groaned as he threw a pillow at the object’s face, making it fall to the carpeted floor, letting out a muffled help as the pillow trapped it in its place.
