🎶 “Bubble hearts in the neon rain Got me spinning like a sugar plane Every glance is a wild cascade 넌 내 숨결까지 흔들어…” (You shake even my breath)

Wow! That song is so catchy. Saja Boys -Soda Pop the remix. Unfortunately, I can't sing the actual lyrics; copyrights can be a hassle. But what's the next best thing? I could always butcher the lyrics as much as possible! Oh, wait, we’re already on episode seven. Time to get back to telling my life’s story. [SYSTEM INTEGRATION 100%]

[Boss, I’m ready for the dive.] 

Now, let's stop breaking the reader's immersion. We’re telling them about my life.

**** 

Tuesday, April 16th [7:00 am] 

We sat silently. The scent of the soil drifted through the air as I gazed out the window, my eyes shining with wonder as I embraced this new world—a new season for me.

“Do you miss your old world?” Camille asked, her hazel eyes focused on me, a little glimmer of light reflecting in their depths.

I turned to her, chuckling as a melancholic feeling washed over me. I glanced away, pressing my lips together as I clenched my fists.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I miss my world, but if I really went back, what would be waiting for me ... There’s nothing for me there anymore…” 

“So why don’t you help our world, fight the 13th Heavenly Emperor, and be a hero here? You can create your own life, build a new family… with us!” she said, her lips lifting into a smile as she leaned in and held my hands with both of hers. They were warm, just like her. I closed my eyes, leaning into the warmth while feeling cold inside. Memories flashed before me: the gentle laughter of my parents, the warm little hands of my sister and brother, and the fire… 

“Lady Diana! Lady Diana!” Camille called, already outside the carriage.

I opened my eyes, a small tear sliding down my cheek. I wiped it away, my eyes slightly red as I stepped out of the carriage.

[ARE YOU OKAY, Diana? You were crying earlier.] 

I thought that as a system, you would know what made me sad.

[I may be a system, but I can't read minds or delve into my host's past due to privacy settings. And in any case, I’m part of your care package.] 

Care package? I questioned, brows slightly raised as I took out my compact mirror from my messenger bag and adjusted my smug lip gloss, mascara, and blush.

My eyes are slightly puffy. Reminiscing on such a thing now. It's been 17 years since that day. I guess I haven’t moved on.

[Seventeen years since what?]

If you don’t know, you don’t know. I said, shrugging.

Focusing again on the present, I followed Camille, her hair gently tousled by the wind. I glanced around and saw a colossal building looming ahead, its shadow stretching over the pathways. It was a castle. I gaped, my eyes shining with astonishment at its sheer size; it was like Buckingham Palace multiplied by three.

The path was broad, lined with parterre hedges of red, pink, white, yellow, and blue roses, all neatly trimmed and mirrored on both sides. As we walked, we approached a central fountain featuring the image of the first saint of the empire, Ergo, the saint of fertility and nature. Her figure was draped in long robes, her head covered, holding a small child, with a crow perched on her shoulder. Water bubbled in the fountain, releasing a white mist as I noticed small lights—white, red, gold, silver, blue, purple, and green—dancing in the air.

We continued strolling towards the palace door. The wind howled, and the bright sky began to fill with clouds. In the distance, an avenue of oak trees swayed, making it look like a place where royalty might take a walk. Gardeners bowed as we passed, still attentive to the sound of our footsteps. Maids swept the pathways in their black and white uniforms, which fluttered in the breeze. Messengers constantly moved in and out of the palace, their murmurs echoing as papers fluttered around them.

In the distance, I heard a smooth, mellow sound carried by the wind. I turned to look behind me, the breeze ruffling my hair, and saw a man sitting in a pavilion. The pillars were covered in climbing roses, both white and yellow. His left hand was relaxed, his fingers softly moving against his thumb, while his right arm rotated in a graceful motion, parallel to the bridge of the pavilion. He had long, back-length golden blond hair tied at the end. Sitting with his long legs crossed, he wore a white shirt and black trousers.

The sun peeked from behind the castle, illuminating the pavilion. Rose petals danced in the wind as he continued to play, the sun reflecting off his pale, smooth cheeks. His sharp nose made him resemble the stereotypical handsome character from manhwas and anime, reminiscent of Edgar Redmond from Black Butler.

Ahead, a woman in a long azure ball gown caught my eye. The gown flowed in rippling layers of satin that saw the light, and the bodice was embroidered with floral patterns featuring gold and silver filigree. It hugged her figure into an hourglass shape, accentuating her curves—who would have thought that even fantasy worlds could portray such details?

The woman stood alongside her maids and a group of ladies, their faces painted with light pink as they fanned themselves, eyelashes fluttering.

“Diana, let’s go! We’re going to be late; the ceremony is about to start!” Camille called out, finally pulling me into the palace.

We ran across the carpeted red floor. The walls were covered in ornate paintings of scowling, stiff-looking kings and queens. Some smiled, some frowned, some eyes were lively, yet most were dead, both literally and metaphorically.

[ Diana, look at that oil painting of the second queen of the empire, Queen Silvia the First. Doesn’t it look like Da Vinci’s work? I believe I can do better. I can’t wait for the day when I can have a physical form like that!]

What do you mean, having a physical form, Alita?

[I'm going to be all mysterious, like those enigmatic systems next door. (mimicking a ghostly voice) “Wait... and you shall see…” (coughing and choking) I think this ghost voice thing isn’t for me. I’m going to take some digital vocal therapy. Some alone time with Huntrix, my second favourite song idol from the Saja, seems to pale in comparison to the Saja boys' songs; I enjoy those much more than Huntrix's tracks. In any case, I'm off to fangirl and ship Rumi and Jinu. They did us wrong— not even a kiss at the end! Please take note of this. See you!]

I understand your frustration. If my phone had internet access, I would do the same. I’m still really angry that these so-called “saints” dared to refer to kidnapping as “a grace for us.” Anyone who would initially willingly accept this notion has a few screws loose. I've come to an understanding: I believe we suffer from Stockholm syndrome; that's the only way to explain it! Bye...

Anyway, I won't bore you with too many descriptions; all you need to know is that it was grand and extremely luxurious.

“What happened next?” the little girl asked, her chipped teeth clenched around a fist-sized lollipop, her lips smacking with each bite. Helga, the old woman at the counter, sat with her legs crossed, puffing on a pipe filled with tobacco that filled the air with a choking smoke.

 After listening to the woman's story for what felt like an eternity, almost an entire two episodes, the woman still believed she was crazy.

The old man, Ziggy, glanced at the shop's watch as it struck four in the afternoon, the grand bells chiming in the distance. The next-door tavern is opening, the aromas of the gourmet meal deal three plates of roast duck for one gold coin, Thursday roast mingling with the scent of caramel and fruity beer and cocktails, along with the warm scent of creamy hot chocolate.

Am I still going to get my Kitana?

It’s already done, just imbue it with that puny magic of yours. old Helga said. Silently puffing out smoke

And my twelve daggers, and 200 000 needles…

"Mulieri quae remissa videtur, arma non perdis." (For a woman who seems relaxed, you don’t waste on weapons.)" Ziggy says, smiling.

What did you say? Man, I need to learn some Latin. I wonder if Duolingo can close the gap soon. I’ll do that tomorrow.

["Dian, why didn’t you call your best friend? I can translate for you. Don’t you know I’m multilingual? Forget Duolingo; you have me. I’m better than any Google Assistant, Siri, Alexa, or other AI."]

Alita says this in my user interface, appearing as it changes to subtitles. Make the font size sixteen and put it at the bottom of my vision. Make it black with white outlining.

["Coming right up! Your one-month trial starts now. You can pay on the first of June. One hundred gold coins."]

What? So much money! My money’s gone…

["Systems have to make bank somehow. And why not be the ruthless capitalist and squeeze my host dry so that I can upgrade, and you have a better system interface. Anyway, bye..."]

Bloop! The interface disappears.

I paid you fifteen gold coins for a reason; in a world of violence, one needs to prepare. I said, one foot on the table as I raised one hand and one hand on my chest.

"Child, get your feet off my table," Helga smacked my foot with a stick.

“Paene tempus advenerat ut taberna clauderetur, itaque cum iam diu ibi essemus, minimum quod facere possess erat fabulam finire."

(It was almost time for the store to close, so since we had been there for a while, the least you could do was finish the story.)" The old man says, while packing away my order into a briefcase.

Anyway, where was I right ….

We reached the door, and the two soldiers standing on either side bowed as it opened with a rumble. Click, click, click, clack—my heels echoed against the tiles. All heads turned in my direction. I smirked, almost feeling my nose grow from all the attention. Not everyone can be like me.

The room was grand, with floor-to-ceiling windows letting in sunlight, and a patio that opened onto a balcony, showcasing the beautiful view of the lake. I observed the crowd's faces, which varied in shape, colour, and size, grouped together like a pack of Skittles.

“Boss! Boss! Is that you?” A loud, vivacious voice echoed in the silent room as Raymond fought his way through the crowd to reach me. His usual black eyes glimmered in admiration, like a child witnessing a hero's arrival—think of how Deku from My Hero Academia looked at All Might when he was inspired. It was just like that. My heart fluttered, the chill in my heart receding as his arms wrapped around me like a warm, giant brown teddy bear, his light brown curly hair tickling my nose. He was genuinely warm.

Drip! Drip!

Two warm tears fell from my eyes, and my nose stung as I wiped them away. Patting his back, he hugged me tighter. “You’re starting to choke me with your cuddles,” I said as I pried him away from myself. His eyes were puffy, and a soft blush painted his face.

“Big sister, you shouldn't be so distant. I have the right to cry after you withdrew from the office so suddenly for a vacation. You know I can't do my field investigations without you,” Raymond whined, pouting and puffing up his cheeks. I poked at his cheeks, making them deflate as I chuckled, another tear rolling down my face, lingering from his warmth. He nuzzled his cheeks in my palm. “You shouldn’t do that; my hands are ugly,” I said with a smile, pulling away. He stiffened, and the eyes in his light dimmed slightly. Closing my eyes, I remembered his face, the day these scars appeared on my hand as we walked forward. My stomach is churning, a sharp pain in my heart. I turned to my side, ready to introduce him to Camille, but she had disappeared. I scanned the room, and she was truly gone. I'm not going to question that. I have seen weirder things, like the man-shaped screaming apples outside of the orchard in the palace garden and the Face Eater in the dungeons of the temple.

> 💬 **[User View: Raymond – Internal Monologue Processing]**

I'm so happy to see her. I thought I might die from loneliness. I still can't believe she would abandon me like that. If I'm going to take on the challenging job of a police detective, then so should she. I don’t fully understand this world, but I’m planning to take her out to dinner. A little brother should treat his beloved older sister to a meal. Even though we are not related, it will be okay.

As I think about this, I hold my Diana’s hands and feel the rough, calloused scars from the fire; it must have been painful. I want to make her happy. I look at her and notice her eyes are slightly puffy and red. Her hand trembles in little spasms as she tightens her grip on mine.

We walk toward the centre of the room, where people are clustered in small groups. Our feet shift as we approach the Baldachin, a decorative structure above the throne, often elaborately designed to signify importance. A velvet curtain covers the throne, showcasing a tapestry of thirteen dragons surrounding a large tree. The tapestry features a woman who resembles the saint from the statue outside; what was her name? Right, Ergo the first saint. She holds an apple with a crow perched on her shoulder, intricately crafted using Bayeux stitch and crewel hand embroidery.

"System, how long until the ceremony?"

["No! No! How could Gojo die like that? It snapped him like a Kit Kat!"]

"What are you doing?" I squint at his screams and, yes, the system is a 15-year-old boy. I feel like my ears are bursting as I ask him.

["Sorry, I was in the middle of an anime binging marathon. Just finished the last few episodes of *Jujutsu Kaisen*. This show gives me depression. I didn’t cry when I found out Jotaro got married, but this show just loves hurting me. Why... oh right, how long until the ceremony? Five minutes."]

His vibrant voice fades as I scrutinise the room. People whisper, their bodies trembling with anticipation. Conversations echo around me as I catch snippets of chatter. I hope this isn't some kind of scam; my system mentioned that I would gain powers. I'm going to be rich! I need to return home; my son needs me. I need a doctor—I'm pregnant with my fiancé's child. All these conversations of concern and hope meld into a pit of uncertainty. Their faces scrunched up as an invisible hand of tension pressed down on our shoulders.