As a fossil-grade pit-digger on a certain site, Nana Toki finally grasped one truth, like a bell tolling in winter fog.

Dig a hole and don’t fill it, and karma will bite like a stray dog in the rain.

Case in point: she was in a sealed room, steel plates like a cold coffin pressing from all sides.

She clutched her aching chest, staring at an LCD screen that flickered like black-and-white snow.

“So can you send me back?” Her voice was a taut bowstring. “I spent half an hour outlining a brand-new pit; if I don’t dig it, my fans’ hearts will ice over.”

“I already said there’s only one condition to go back,” the voice replied, a childlike tone rimed in frost. “Refuse, and I erase you like chalk in the wind.”

Mother— Nana Toki winced like she’d stepped on a rake in a bamboo grove.

So it’s the old System-novel routine again, like an ink wash you’ve seen a hundred times.

Disagree once and it’s ‘erase,’ QwQ, like a guillotine dropping through morning mist.

What even happened? Her thoughts scattered like startled sparrows.

A moment ago she’d been typing at her own PC, light like moon on a lake, and now she’d been hauled to this ghostly box.

I want to go back, like a carp leaping upstream.

I want to go back and keep digging pits, like laying snares under paper lanterns.

I want to keep dangling those readers’ appetites, like hanging candied fruit just out of reach, to watch them love and hate me in the same breath.

As our great foreign friend, Leo Tolstoy, once said, the words rolling like thunder over a plain:

A novel is like a romance; after the first sweetness, the rest is an endless night like a moonless sea.

So.

As a scummy author who only savors the first few chapters’ dew-bright freshness, she grinned like a fox at dawn.

Nana Toki had dug hundreds of pits she never filled, like burrows in a hillside pocked with shadows.

“You stop updating and I’ll unfollow,” comments piled like fallen leaves in a courtyard.

“I’ll give my votes to someone else,” the threats rattled like beans in a drum.

“Enjoy your one-star,” the jeers hissed like rain on oil-paper umbrellas, blah blah blah spilling like gutter water.

Nana Toki ignored them, her gaze like a closed gate, because she never read the comment section.

Writing’s simple, she thought, like tea brewed for one; if I’m happy, the cup is warm, and if others aren’t, the wind will pass.

Yes.

That mindset had planted the seeds, like weeds creeping under a fence, for her current peril.

“You have ten seconds to decide,” the voice fell like icicles, “whether to accept.”

“Accept! Accept! You bastard System!” Her shout cracked like a thrown plate on stone.

As the queen of unfinished pits, Nana Toki knew the trope like a path worn in bamboo.

Sure, the System novel she wrote once… uhhhh… got axed like a branch in winter.

So what? She was still digging, like a mole under fresh snow.

Go with the current and you won’t drown; if the System chose you, there’s a reason, like a tide pulling at the shore.

As long as you don’t thrash, nothing breaks, like a kite held steady in a spring wind.

She agreed, and the LCD flashed like lightning behind clouds, then spit out pale text like bones on black velvet.

Host: Nana Toki

Current Karma: -100000000000

Current Items: None

Current Points: 0

???

This…

This wasn’t right, like a zither string tuned to the wrong note.

Where were the Agility, Intellect, Strength, Charisma, Spirit, like five stars over a river?

Why only this bare-bones stuff, like a monk’s bowl at the end of winter? And what was with that Karma?

She counted the zeros, each one a cold bead on a rosary; eleven zeros made one hundred billion.

Big number, sure, like a mountain buried in snow.

But…

“You sure you didn’t add an extra minus sign?” Her voice wobbled like a lantern in crosswind.

Her karma wasn’t that bad, she mused, like a pond mostly clear; she didn’t litter and didn’t spit in the street.

Aside from not helping old grannies cross the road, she was normal, like a pebble in a stream.

Negative seems a bit much, like frost on a summer lotus.

“Our data’s been through rigorous processing,” the System said, firm as a temple bell, “and cannot be wrong.”

Nana Toki: “...”

“So here’s the problem,” she asked, words tiptoeing like a cat on tiles. “How do I get back?”

“Traverse various planes,” the System intoned, like wind over pines. “Complete tasks to raise Karma. When Karma hits zero, you’re free, like a bird with cut strings.”

Are you kidding me— Her lungs felt tight, like ropes wet with rain.

How do you scrub that many zeros, like trying to bail an ocean with a spoon?

Nana Toki grimaced, thorn in heart, then a spark lit like flint.

“So I’m the main character, yeah?” Her eyes gleamed like twin stars.

“Uh… I’m not sure what you misunderstood,” the System said, tone hazy as mist over rice fields. “I never said you’re the protagonist.”

“Eh?” Her surprise popped like a fish in a hot wok.

“Each world has its own male and female leads,” the System continued, words neat as stacked tiles. “You’re at best a supporting role, like a reed behind the stage.

“Sometimes you’re not even that, like dust in a sunbeam, and the leads have monstrous fortune, like dragons coiled under the sea.

“They’re the future rulers of those worlds, like suns bound to rise. Don’t provoke them when you cross paths; it only helps you, like shade under a pine.

“Even if they’re at death’s edge, blade at the throat, you may not kill them, or the plane collapses like a cracked ice sheet, and your mission fails.”

“That disgusting?” Her lip curled like a wilted petal.

“Can’t you send me back and pick someone else?” Her plea fluttered like a kite begging for wind.

“No.” The word dropped like a stone into a well.

Nana Toki: “...”

Damn! The curse snapped like a twig.

“I’ve got another question,” she said, heartbeat drumming like rain on drums.

“Please ask,” the System replied, voice smooth as jade.

“Where’s my newbie starter pack?” Her hands reached out, grasping at air like trying to catch snowflakes.

“Since I’ve got a System, a starter pack’s not too much, right?” Her smile was a paper fan hiding a knife.

System: “...”

“Ding~ Because the host’s Karma is too low,” it chimed, sweet as a bell and cold as sleet, “this System cannot grant a starter pack.”

Nana Toki: “???”

You’ve got to be— Her temper flared like a match in dry grass.

“I’m a newbie without a newbie pack,” she snarled, words like thrown pebbles. “How am I supposed to hop planes and maintain world peace?”

System: “...”

“Who told you to maintain world peace?” The voice flattened like calm water. “This System wants you to complete tasks, you know, like quests that hand out special rewards after.”

“Got it,” she said, a sigh like steam from a teacup. “Go on.”

“Ahem,” it continued, throat-clearing like broom on stone. “Because your Karma is abysmally low, this System can only provide each plane’s warnings and one single restoration, like one breath of spring after deep winter.

“Beyond that, you’re on your own, like a boat in fog. Take care of yourself in other planes; the best I can do is arrange your coffin afterward, like carpenters measuring wood.”

Nana Toki: “...”

Cruel.

So cruel, like wind skinning the lake.

This damn System was a clear stream in the cesspool of System novels, cold and sharp, like mountain water on bare feet.

So clear it made Nana Toki want to keep up a 1v1 with it, like sparring under moonlit pines.

Well then…

“Transfer begins!” The words cracked like thunder splitting bamboo.

“Hey—wait, hold up!” she yelped, panic fluttering like sparrows. “I still have other questions!”