Chapter 1: The Progress Trap

When the app said we were at 99%, Autumn Lane turned to me and, with a sly grin, said she wanted to "test the goods."

She said it with this easy confidence—almost playful, but you could feel the challenge underneath. She had a knack for turning even the most ordinary request into a dare. The kind of dare that keeps you up all night, second-guessing every move. Was I reading too much into it? Maybe. But with her, you never knew.

I pulled an all-nighter. Yeah, I really did.

There was no way I was sleeping. My head was spinning, nerves shot, my heart thumping like a drumline. I must've checked the clock a hundred times—no exaggeration. Every minute dragged on forever. By the time the first light crept through the blinds, I was running on nothing but adrenaline and the stubborn hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the night everything changed.

But just as I started to relax, the system blared—

[Host, the progress meter just dropped from 99% to 60%! Looks like she wasn't impressed with your performance in bed.]

Ouch. No sugarcoating that.

The notification hit me like a slap. My stomach dropped, humiliation burning through me, like the whole universe was in on the joke. Yeah, thanks for that, universe.

I spiraled, trying to figure out how not to suck in bed.

Maybe I was too eager. Maybe not enough. I replayed every awkward moment, every misstep, convinced I'd blown my one shot. The shame was suffocating, and I couldn't help but wonder what exactly I'd done wrong—or worse, what I hadn't done at all.

Until I overheard her bragging to her best friend:

"Autumn Lane still doesn't know I can adjust his progress meter however I want. It's just like training a dog—if he does well, I bump up his score as a reward; if he messes up, I lower it to make him shape up."

"The first time in bed, I wasn't satisfied, so I dropped his progress to 60%."

"It's obvious—right now, he's probably stressing about how to please me next time!"

Wow. Just wow.

A burst of laughter erupted from the private room. Figures.

Every laugh echoed, stabbing right through me.

I went numb.

My skin prickled, cold sweat running down my neck. Frozen. Helpless. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It was like I was frozen in place, every word from inside the room hammering home just how out of my depth I really was.

Just three days ago, I was still lost in the fantasy that I was about to win her over. God, I was such an idiot.

I used to replay her smiles, her teasing glances, convincing myself that I was special. That I was close. I really thought I was close.

Autumn's progress toward me had reached 99%. That number was everything.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I was just one step away from success. Or so I kept telling myself.

I told myself, just one more push. One more grand gesture, one more night spent trying to read her mind. Like that ever works.

That night, Autumn hooked her finger through my tie, her breath warm against my ear:

"Ethan, I want you."

Her voice was a low whisper, sending a shiver down my spine. I swallowed hard.

She said real love was when your body and soul just... clicked.

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to.

I swallowed and nodded, letting her take the lead.

It was all nerves and anticipation. I was just glad she wanted me, honestly.

Strange shivers ran down my back.

Maybe I was finally doing it right.

With things getting this intense, the progress meter had to max out, right?

I really thought I nailed it.

But I never expected it—not in a million years.

When it was over, just silence.

Autumn's progress toward me had plummeted to 60%. Sixty. Not even close.

Barely a passing score. What the hell happened?

It felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I couldn't believe it.

I didn't get it. I thought maybe my technique was just that bad, that I'd let her down. Maybe I really was that bad.

My self-doubt spiraled. What was I missing?

Turns out, it was just one of her training tactics. Figures.

All that for nothing.

The laughter in the private room kept going. Would they ever shut up?

It was relentless, each peal a reminder that I was the punchline. Guess not.

I heard someone tease, "When it comes to training, Autumn's the best! With a cheat code like that, handling Ethan is a breeze." Easy for them to say.

"Naturally," Autumn replied lazily, swirling her wine glass. Real nice.

She always did love the spotlight.

"These progress-chasers will do anything to push their progress to 100%. Like this time, I just frowned at his tacky boxer briefs, then lowered the score. Next time, he'll probably show up in mesh briefs, trying every trick to please me."

God, she noticed those? She never missed a thing.

"Damn, that's genius! Autumn, you're amazing!"

There was a chorus of agreement, the admiration in their voices making it all the more painful. Great. Just great.

I felt like a science experiment, my every move dissected and discussed. Is this really my life?

"She's not the only genius here," said the man beside Autumn, raising an eyebrow with a lazy smile. "I'm the one who taught her: if you really want to control a man, you have to break him down in bed, make him doubt himself. When he's on the verge of falling apart, give him a little sweetness—then he'll be wrapped around your finger."

Of course it's him.

The words oozed confidence, delivered with a knowing smirk. How could I compete?

His name was Julian Fox, with a great body and seductive eyes.

He's the top male entertainer at this club, famous for a reason. No wonder everyone knows his name.

The crowd egged them on. They just wanted a show.

"Autumn, you got it all—one on each arm, living the dream, huh?" Yeah, living the dream.

"Ethan? He's nothing special—so awkward." That one hurt.

She undid Julian's shirt buttons, her fingers tracing his abs. Was this really happening?

"Being with Julian, that's the real dream." Guess I was just a stand-in.

Julian leaned in, breath hot against her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe:

"Liar. If that's true, why are you still with him? Not having fun with me?" He knew exactly what he was doing.

Autumn answered shamelessly:

"I need a good husband, a loyal pet. And honestly, after he's worked so hard to win me over, I almost feel sorry for him." So that's all I was.

She looked at Julian, her eyes full of hungry longing. She never looked at me like that.

"But if we're talking about what gets my heart racing, I still prefer wild types like you." And I never will.

The two of them got more and more tangled, the crowd egging them on. It was all for show.

"Autumn, aren't you worried Ethan will just give up if you play him like this?" If only.

"No way."

Autumn was supremely confident:

"Every time he wants to give up, I just raise the progress meter to 99%. With just 1% left, there's no way he'll walk away." So simple for her.

"I'll keep him dangling like that—always just out of reach, always doing whatever I want." Always just out of reach.

A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. Couldn't breathe.

Autumn was right. To push her progress to 100%, I'd do anything. Anything for her.

I just wanted to go home. I missed my old life.

Three years ago, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer—two months left to live. Two months. That's all.

That's when I got the system's invitation. Too good to be true.

If I could complete the strategy mission in a small world, I'd get to return to reality, healthy again. I had nothing to lose.

I didn't hesitate for a second. I went for it.

Like a drowning man grabbing driftwood, I threw myself into the mission. Anything to survive.

If raising Autumn's progress meant swallowing my pride, becoming whatever she wanted, so be it. Whatever it took.

For three years, every time the progress dropped, I'd obsessively replay everything I'd done, searching for where I'd gone wrong. Where did I go wrong?

I'd fix every mistake, test every theory. Maybe next time.

If the progress went back up, I knew I'd gotten it right. It was never enough.

That's how I became her perfect boyfriend, inching the progress all the way to 99%. Who was I even anymore?

This time was no different. Just another setback.

I thought if I just worked on my bedroom skills and made Autumn happy...

Maybe this would fix it.

So I went all out—watched adult films, studied erotica and how-to guides, bought books on sexology, memorized every female erogenous zone.

I became a student of pleasure, determined to leave no stone unturned. There was so much to learn.

Theory wasn't enough. I hit the clubs, observing how men and women flirted and interacted. I watched from the sidelines.

But as I passed a private room—

I overheard Autumn's little speech. So that's how it was.

I originally came to the club to learn how to flirt. What was the point now?

But now, I changed my mind. Enough was enough.

Taking a deep breath, I summoned the system for the first time in ages. Could I really do this?

System, I want to go home.

"Help me abort the mission."

No turning back.

That scene just now made it painfully clear—

With Autumn, I'd never succeed. I was like a donkey chasing a carrot she dangled in front of me, always obediently moving forward. Always chasing, never catching.

I saw it all now—the endless cycle, the constant striving for approval that would never come. I'm done.

Instead of staying here, letting her keep humiliating me,

I'd rather go back and spend my last two months with my family. I missed them so much.

But the system, hearing my decision, instantly shrieked:

"Give up? Are you nuts?! You're the top performer in this whole batch!" What now?

I was confused. "Top performer?" How could that be?

"That's right! I was counting on you to finish this mission so I could retire with a fat bonus! If you quit now, how am I supposed to retire?" Sure, I'm the star.

"Wait, I don't get it."

I pulled up the progress panel, double-checking: Sixty percent. That's it.

"Autumn's progress toward me is only 60% right now. How is that top of the leaderboard?"

The system scoffed: "Of course the rules changed."

Who said rankings were based on progress? That's what the old systems did—totally unscientific.

Nothing's ever fair.

Every mission has a different difficulty. Some people start at 90%, others in the negatives. If everyone had to hit 100% to succeed, that wouldn't be fair.

So that's why.

So the new systems keep up with the times—we use the fluctuation range of the progress meter. The bigger the swings, the bigger the impact you've had.

It all made sense now.

"And you, my host, your progress meter has been all over the place—up, down, back and forth—which proves the other person is obsessed with you, can't make up her mind."

"That's real success!" Guess I made an impression.

I let out a bitter laugh. Only in this world.

"..."

I was dumbfounded by the system's logic. Unbelievable.

But I got the gist. At least now I know.

Because Autumn could adjust my progress meter at will, my numbers were swinging wildly. She played herself.

She thought she was training me,

but she accidentally matched the system's new standard, helping me become the top performer.

A total accident—finding hope at the edge of despair. Maybe things could turn around.

The system saw my mood ease and quickly tried to persuade me: "How much was it worth?"

Host, every 1% swing in progress gets you 1 point. According to the rules, 2,000 points means mission success, and 5,000 points earns you a hundred million in cash! We split it fifty-fifty!

A hundred million. Seriously?

"Right now, you're only 666 points away from 5,000! Are you really going to walk away from this money?" It was hard to say no.

I asked cautiously:

"So you're saying I already succeeded, and could've gone home healthy—but you didn't tell me?" What else was it hiding?

The system sounded sheepish.

"Come on, I wanted the bonus too! With your talent, you shot to the top in no time—what system wouldn't be tempted?"

"Please, just a little more effort. 666 points is nothing for you!"

My chest warmed, excitement surging before I forced myself to calm down. My turn to make the rules.

"Seventy-thirty split. I get seventy, you get thirty. Agree, and I'll keep going."

The system sputtered, caught off guard by my sudden confidence. Finally, some leverage.

"You, you..."

I let the question hang, knowing it was the truth. I wasn't going to let anyone—human or machine—take advantage of me anymore. I deserved better.

The system stammered for a while, then finally nodded hard, howling to the sky, "About time."