Those who asked too many questions? Well . . . those questions would disappear, just like the camera footage. Just like the traces of what really happened.
She walked back to the bedside and looked at him one last time.
"You should've known," she murmured. "You locked up a dragon thinking that it's a bunny."
By the end of the week, the papers called her Madam Jones, inheritor of Fredrich's legacy. The estate, the empire, the wealth—it was all hers now.
This world was a Rank-A world—unlike anything Lina had experienced before. It wasn't scripted like the B-rank world she'd mastered.
It was unpredictable, volatile, and no one knew who the main character or the villain was, or whether the story even had a true ending at all.
But that was when the soul inside Lina—resilient, cunning, forged by countless resets and failures—began to formulate a plan.
She wouldn't wait for the narrative to assign her a role. She wouldn't chase the villain.
