"Now, Why Did I Transmigrate Into a Protagonist?!?"

Have you ever met that one student who doesn’t need a push to study? The type who sets five alarms, wakes up at four, drinks motivational quotes for breakfast, and practically breathes productivity?

Yeah. That’s Mèng Xīngyào.

So naturally, he ghosted me.

Just left me behind. No “good morning,” no “hey, Gēge, wanna come?”—nothing.

Yīchéng sulked dramatically, dragging himself toward the Scripture Hall with arms crossed like a wronged housewife.

“The nerve! You see this, Angella? Not even one day, and he’s already abandoned his Gēge,” he huffed like it was a personal betrayal.

“Aww~ Host, quit whining already,” Angella chirped in her usual syrupy tone that made Yīchéng want to bite a jade pillow. “You overslept. Again. Whose fault is that? Certainly not the diligent baby villain.”

Yīchéng clicked his tongue. “But like… basic manners, Angella. Ever heard of those? A ‘Hey, Gēge, you coming?’ before sprinting off like a Spirit Chicken on fire—is that too much to ask?”

“Host,” she replied sweetly, somehow sounding like she was smacking him with a smile, “you still having delusions after seeing your trust points? Xīngyào’s probably already writing his resignation letter from the Incompetent Elder Brother Fan Club. Also, why are you heading to the Scripture Hall instead of the Cultivation Hall?”

Yīchéng rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. “Are you stupid? What, you want me to waltz into the Cultivation Hall late, looking like a slob? What if he asks why I was late? Should I say I slept in? What kind of image would that leave him with? A protagonist who wakes up late? Disgraceful.”

“Aww~ Host, that’s mean. But I didn’t know you even had an image to ruin.” She giggled. “Still sounds like an excuse to me. You’re just avoiding hard work.”

“…You’re lucky I can’t uninstall you. Hmph.” Yīchéng grumbled, marching into the Scripture Hall like someone doing cardio under protest. “I have an actual reason for being here.”

Angella tilted her voice with confusion so sugary it gave his soul cavities. “What reason? Didn’t you already get the Gale Palm Technique? Why are you technique-hopping like a hyperactive squirrel?”

“Because unlike you, I care about the villain!” Yīchéng snapped, flipping through scrolls with righteous aggression. “He’s already blowing through the Storm-Forged Physique like it’s a snack. Next, he’ll start qi cultivation—and with the way he improves—! But he’s got that damned bloodline seal. He’ll stall out. Get depressed. Spiral. I won’t always be around to babysit. What then, huh?”

He scoffed. “You talk about everything except the important stuff. Aren’t you supposed to be a villain-biased system?”

He was already thumbing through the shelves, searching for something—anything—suitable for a Fire Spirit Root cultivator.

Angella replied in her usual cheerfully detached way. “Then he’ll do what he’s always done—struggle. What’s the big deal?”

Yīchéng froze, one eye twitching. He stared at a scroll titled Misty Willow Breath like it had personally offended his ancestors.

“…Did I get shipped the wrong system? Can I return you? There’s still warranty, right?”

Angella ignored him. As usual.