Chapter 1: Disaster-in-Chief
After waking up in someone else's shoes, the system wants me to tank the whole country.
So I started slacking off immediately.
I cranked up the bass until the Secret Service flinched, hosted beer pong tournaments in the Lincoln Bedroom, and ordered midnight nachos straight to the Situation Room. Red Solo cups, Domino's boxes, and the echo of '90s hip-hop and Taylor Swift remixes turned the West Wing into a frat house. Every night, my so-called “executive staff” lounged on beanbags, sipping bourbon, and live-streaming TikTok challenges under the somber gaze of oil portraits. If anyone complained, I’d just turn up the volume and laugh it off, determined to leave my mark as the ultimate disaster-in-chief.
Determined to become the ultimate disaster of a president, no matter what.
But then, the cabinet started shouting, "Madam President is brilliant!"
Only then did I realize—something was seriously off.
Wait, why are the approval ratings skyrocketing and every nation lining up to sign trade deals?