Ex-Girlfriend – Chapter 1

Breaking the Cage

Escape 01

Legal Hunting

Xin Lan considered herself to have a flawless, undefeated record in life. Yet, as she stared at the screen displaying Mission Failed, her brow furrowed into a tight knot.

            

“How could I have failed?”

“What do you think?”

Zero Nine dragged her exhausted body out from behind her, utterly drained, and slumped onto the sofa.

            

“Jiujiu, I think I did pretty well.”

“Host, please don’t talk to me right now. Let me catch my breath.”

Zero Nine pushed up the frame of her glasses and began to sort through the mission data.

            

She had guided two hosts before; Xin Lan was her third. Yet, Xin Lan had delivered the greatest shock she had ever experienced in her entire existence as a system.

Xin Lan was a transfer. Word had it she was previously in the Villain Department, but because that department was overstaffed, she—an outstanding employee—had been reassigned to their Face-Slapping Department¹.

Zero Nine had taken charge of her, eagerly leading her into her first world. Less than a day later, they had been ejected, the mission stamped as a failure.

            

Her entire system mainframe was practically frozen in shock.

It wasn’t that Xin Lan had performed poorly. It was just that her methods were far, far too… jaw-dropping.

“Host, next time, could we be a little gentler?”

            

“I think my actions perfectly aligned with the department’s core tenets and the mission requirements. I just didn’t expect that piece of trash to be so fragile.”

Xin Lan sat down on the sofa, looking thoroughly exasperated.

The Face-Slapping Department’s core tenet was to make trash weep on their knees, and to force everyone who looked down on the original host² to kneel and sing ‘Conquer’³.

            

Xin Lan’s first world had been a modern urban setting. Her identity was a punching bag—a woman abused by her husband, bullied by her maiden family, and walked all over by her colleagues and superiors. The mission was to counterattack, dump the abusive scumbag, make him kneel and admit his mistakes, and then reach the pinnacle of life.

Zero Nine had assumed that given Xin Lan’s ferocious combat prowess, this mission would be a piece of cake. But she hadn’t anticipated Xin Lan being too ferocious.

The moment Xin Lan transmigrated over, the original host had just finished being beaten by her husband and was covered in bruises.

            

Xin Lan dismantled a wooden chair with her bare hands, marched to the door gripping one of the wooden legs, and proceeded to beat the scumbag to a pulp.

The scumbag tried to fight back, but he was no match for her.

His attempts to fight back only angered Xin Lan further. Consequently, she locked him in the room and beat him for a long time. She dislocated his jaw, twisted his arms, and forced the piece of trash to kneel and weep bitterly, making him swear he would never commit domestic violence again.

            

Xin Lan ignored him. Remembering that this scumbag was also guilty of marital rape and infidelity, she delivered a single kick that completely destroyed his manhood, closed the door, and left.

Even Zero Nine had been frightened into trembling fits, squatting in the system space drawing circles⁴.

After finishing all this, Xin Lan casually went to the kitchen, washed her hands, and cooked herself dinner.

            

While she ate, she asked if her mission was partially complete. Zero Nine figured it probably was—after all, she had successfully made the scumbag kneel and weep, even if her methods were a far cry from what the system had envisioned.

One person and one system tallied it up and agreed that they were on the right track.

Xin Lan finished her meal, took some money, and left for the hospital.

            

She was currently black and blue all over; her face was battered, and the blood on her forehead had already dried. The original host had been beaten to death right before she crossed over.

Sitting in the taxi, Xin Lan actually felt she had gone too easy on him. After all, that animal had murdered the original host with his own hands.

After declining the taxi driver and the hospital doctor’s suggestions to call the police, Xin Lan headed home with gauze taped to her face.

            

The moment she arrived, she saw a crowd gathered. Her scumbag husband in name—the man she had just beaten and crippled—had committed suicide by jumping off the building.

But the mission was not complete. She and Zero Nine were ejected from the mission world. The mission had failed.

They had only been in there for a few hours.

            

Finishing her recollection, Zero Nine’s eyes were filled with ancient weariness. This was likely the fastest mission failure in any world she had ever overseen.

Her host’s style was just too unconventional.

“Host, I will carefully filter the next world for you. Please get some good rest first.”

            

Xin Lan nodded, returned to her room, and collapsed onto the bed.

Her old boss initiated a communication link, asking how she was adjusting to her new job. Thoroughly depressed, Xin Lan recounted the entire ordeal, only to be met with a string of uproarious laughter.

“Lan-jie—no, Lord Lan, you’re probably the only one who could pull off something like this.”

            

“What the hell are you laughing at? Why transfer me? I was perfectly happy doing what I was doing.”

Xin Lan had been thoroughly enjoying her life as a happy villain. Then, a sudden transfer order arrived, and now she even had a mission failure to her name.

This was practically a stain on her entire mission history!

            

“Just thought you could use a change of scenery. Keep up the good work!”

Terrified that Xin Lan would ask more questions, Bai Ou cut the communication the moment he finished speaking.

It was common knowledge across almost all departments that the vast majority of people in the Villain Department were lunatics.

            

Xin Lan was the lunatic among lunatics.

She handled all villains with effortless mastery. Since she began taking missions, she had maintained a flawless record of zero defeats.

Villains were meant to oppress the protagonist, but ultimately, they were destined to fail. Many mission-takers found this extremely frustrating, and some even went so far as to murder the protagonist, leading directly to mission failure.

            

But Xin Lan had never done that. When it was time for her to die, she died crisply and cleanly; she didn’t hesitate for a second to kill herself off.

That was what made her truly terrifying.

Based on seniority, Xin Lan could have easily become the Manager of the Villain Department ages ago. But she had no interest in administrative work, running off into mission worlds day after day. Bai Ou was terrified that one day Xin Lan would lose the ability to distinguish between missions and reality, or grow so bored of life that she’d slit her own throat. So, upon hearing that the Face-Slapping Department was short-staffed, he immediately transferred her over.

            

If he had sent Xin Lan to do romance missions, she likely would have grown impatient. But these face-slapping missions were perfect. Xin Lan had played the villain for so long; it was high time she got to be the protagonist. Who knows, she might even find time to date along the way.

Unaware of Bai Ou’s thoughts, Xin Lan stretched lazily on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Without realizing it, drowsiness overtook her.

            

Perhaps it was the unprecedented sting of failure that dragged her into a long-forgotten dream.

She stood amidst a vast, boundless sea of stars. Gunsmoke and artillery fire choked the void around her.

“General Xin Lan, we’re surrounded.”

            

The soldier’s expression was heavy with grief.

“The vanguard fleet?”

“…Wiped out.”

            

“General, you must go first. We can hold them off a little longer.”

“There’s nowhere to go. The vanguard couldn’t possibly have been wiped out this quickly. There must be a traitor—”

“General, the right wing has taken a heavy hit!”

            

Someone rushed in, cutting off her words.

“What about the main ship’s patrol squad?”

“They’re gone.”

            

“What?!”
The soldiers cried out in shock.

“It seems I miscalculated. Notify the control room. Full speed ahead.”

“But the enemy’s main ship is right in front of us…”

            

“Ram them.”

“Yes, sir!”

“God bless the Empire.”

            

The roar of artillery fire was deafening enough to shatter eardrums. Xin Lan donned her mecha and charged out into the sea of stars.

The brilliant fires that illuminated vast stretches of the starry void were forged in the glory of blood and tears.

Xin Lan’s eyes snapped open. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, pulled a cigarette from the pack, and caught it between her lips without lighting it.

            

She set the cigarette aside and walked into the bathroom.

The mirror reflected a stunningly beautiful face, heavily striking and aggressive. Yet, those eyes were steeped in shadow, like a rose blooming alone in the dead of night.

Xin Lan washed her face, wiped away the water droplets with a towel, and let out a faint, nearly inaudible sigh.

            

It had been a very long time since she had died in battle and arrived here. So long, in fact, that she could no longer remember how many missions she had done, how many protagonists she had bullied, or how many protagonists had ultimately killed her.

Some villains were inherently rebellious, utterly unorthodox, and possessed antisocial personalities. Others were forced by life’s cruelties to step-by-step descend into darkness. Xin Lan had played them all.

But every time she exited a mission world, she would wash away those emotions and memories. She only wanted to be herself.

            

Even so, her core personality couldn’t help but be slightly affected. She had always been competitive by nature; over time, she had only grown more belligerent.

Having seen too many cockroach⁵ protagonists who couldn’t be beaten to death, she never expected the scumbag in her new department’s first mission to be so fragile. He had actually killed himself over a minor beating, without having a single fucking clue just how out of line his own actions had been.

Xin Lan held nothing but contempt for people who sought validation by abusing others. Dying ten thousand times wouldn’t be enough for trash like that.

            

She pushed open the door. Zero Nine was on the sofa, eating potato chips while searching through data files.

A host and a system shared a bound relationship, meaning they lived together.

Xin Lan’s previous system had been a literal sphere that constantly rolled around acting cute. This time, the system took the appearance of a deadbeat otaku girl with a cowlick sticking up, black-rimmed glasses, and long black hair. Her personality was quite interesting, too.

            

If not for the fact that she was currently charging by keeping her toes plugged into a custom power strip, Xin Lan would have thought she was a living, breathing human.

“Would the host like some? They’re cucumber flavored.”

Zero Nine held up the bag of chips, shoving a handful into her own mouth with one hand, letting out a series of crunch crunch sounds.

            

Xin Lan took the bag, joining in on the crunch crunch.

“Got one. Let’s pick this for the new mission. Host, I think you’ll like it.”

Zero Nine’s eyes lit up. Streams of digital numbers flashed across her pupils, as if she had spotted something.

            

“The ‘Ex-Girlfriend’ mission series…”

Zero Nine dragged out the syllables, turning her head to look at Xin Lan.

“Does the host mind taking on the identity of an ex-girlfriend?”

            

“And who am I dealing with?”

“The ex-boyfriends. But their status is entirely different from the first mission. They usually hold very high positions of power.”

“So they’re the protagonists?”

            

“No, you are the protagonist. They are the villains.”
Zero Nine corrected her.

“I see…”

Xin Lan raised an eyebrow, a deeply intrigued smile spreading across her face.

            

“They must be very durable.”

“Stop your dangerous thoughts!”

Zero Nine was suddenly reminded of the terror she had been subjected to.

            

“Then how should I complete the mission? What’s the appropriate way?”

Xin Lan sank into deep thought.

“Kick him off his throne, become the boss yourself, and make him kneel and sing ‘Conquer’!”

            

“Literally?”

“I was just using a figure of speech.”
Zero Nine waved her hands frantically, terrified her host would genuinely just beat someone to a pulp again.

“I understand. I’ll exercise restraint this time.”

            

Xin Lan nodded. Zero Nine accepted the mission, rapidly polished off the rest of the potato chips, took a gulp of iced cola, and wiped her mouth and hands with a tissue before bringing Xin Lan into the mission world.

The windows were bright and clean; the clear, rhythmic sound of students reading aloud filled the air.

Xin Lan looked at the textbook on the desk in front of her and blinked.

            

A beautiful school campus world?

Zero Nine: Data download complete. Class is about to end. Host, hurry up and get ready.

Xin Lan absorbed the world’s background and the original host’s memories, swiftly retracting her previous use of the word ‘beautiful.’

            

The sun was already nearing dusk. She glanced at the expressions of the students around her. Although everyone’s mouth was moving in recitation, their faces were entirely stiff. Upon closer inspection, some were even trembling.

A piece of paper detailing the school’s daily schedule was taped to the desk.

8:00–9:00: Discussion
9:00–11:30: Classes
11:30–2:00: Rest
2:00–5:00: Classes
5:00–7:30: Rest
7:30–12:00: Hunting

            

That final word had been circled in red pen, practically overflowing with an ominous implication.

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