Most importantly though.... this was proving to have the potential to be really, really interesting.
The blue panel flickered.
Then popped back into place with an almost cheerful ping.
|VIEW EVALUATION?|☐ YES ☐ NO
Ah'Ming stared at it.
"…I already know this is going to hurt my feelings," he muttered, and tapped YES anyway.
The panel dissolved, replaced by a large, bold letter floating in front of him.
|EVALUATION: B
"…That's it?" he said. "After all that?"
To be fair, he'd never been a straight A's student. But, no comments or suggestions for improvement? Wow. All stick and no carrot, huh.
More text scrolled in beneath it.
TOTAL VIEWS: 20,036LIKES: 4,384
His stomach twisted.
Twenty thousand.
That was… that was a lot of people. Hopefully people. Unless… ghosts? But… what were the higher level beings?
Before he could process that properly, comments began to populate the space, sliding past like a feed he very much did not want to read. All of them explaining why he got his evaluation.
|"MC panics too much, but kind of funny."
|"Why didn't he realize the café was paper earlier? Missed foreshadowing."
|"Good instincts, poor execution."
|"Stats say EX strength but he acts like a wet cat."
|"Would've been S-rank if he cried more when the ghost reveal happened."
|"Mid. Teammates carried."
Ah'Ming's eye twitched.
"…I hate you," he informed the empty white space. "Collectively."
More text appeared, clinically neutral.
|EVALUATION NOTES:
|— Demonstrated adaptability under narrative pressure
|— Provided internal commentary with moderate entertainment value
|— Failed to fully capitalize on emotional beats
|— Survival maintained; escalation avoided
"That's all critique," he said flatly. "There's no praise here."
Except maybe the first two. They weren't great though.
The comments kept scrolling anyway.
Still… somewhere between wet cat and mid, something settled.
They weren't gods.
If they were, their feedback wouldn't sound like a comment section arguing about pacing and character arcs.
They sounded… human. Petty. Nitpicky. Way too familiar.
That almost made it worse.
Another panel snapped into place, cutting off the comments mercifully.
|ACCEPT REWARDS?|☐ YES ☐ NO
He didn't hesitate this time.
"Yes."
The panel chimed brightly.
|REWARDS ACQUIRED!
Text stacked rapidly, one line after another.
|+40 POINTS
|+$350
|ITEM: NEWSPAPER CUTTING
|WARNING: INCOMPLETE ITEM. Attempts to bring out of instance will fail
|ITEM: CHILD'S DRAWING
|ITEM: BOX OF BONE MARROW EGG TARTS
Ah'Ming stared at the last one.
"…I'm going to choose to believe that's not human," he said firmly. "For my own sanity."
|CONGRATULATIONS ON REACHING OVER 100 VIEWERS
|CONGRATULATIONS ON REACHING OVER 1,000 VIEWERS
|CONGRATULATIONS ON REACHING OVER 10,000 VIEWERS
|CONGRATULATIONS ON REACHING OVER 20,000 VIEWERS
"Ow, ow, ow!" Turns out, having system notifications scream at you, multiple times in a row, wasn't really good for your mental health. He wasn't too sure about eardrums, since maybe it was broadcasted straight to his brain.
He could tell that there were more notifications incoming, likely to do with the number of likes, so he quickly muted them.
| + 4 Notifications
The rewards slid away, neatly filed somewhere he couldn't see.
|Reward achieved; Baby's first steps!
|Hit 10,000 viewers
Cool. Did it come with more rewards though?
One final panel appeared, overly enthusiastic, complete with a little star icon.
|KEEP TRYING! WORK HARD!
He squinted at it. "Don't patronize me."
The panel did not apologize.
Instead—
The white space dropped out from under him.
Ah'Ming yelped as the world inverted, the panels shattering into blue light as gravity returned all at once.
The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the star icon winking cheerfully.
He was kicked straight out.
Rude.
...
Ah'Ming came back to himself face-first.
Stone. Cold. Slightly greasy.
He groaned, peeling his cheek off the pavement with the slow dignity of a man who had just been ejected from reality. His limbs followed in the wrong order, like a marionette whose strings had been briefly tangled by a bored intern.
Behind him, something made a wet, dismissive fwump sound, as if the universe had cleared its throat and moved on.
"…Ow," he said to no one in particular.
The smell hit him next.
Warm custard. Caramelized sugar. Butter so rich it felt morally questionable.
Ah'Ming lifted his head.
In front of him loomed a storefront glowing like a shrine. Gold trim. Red lanterns. A hand-painted sign in cheerful calligraphy:
|GRAND AUNTIE LOK'S EGG TART EMPORIUM
|Since Before You Were Born
The display window was a blinding parade of pastry perfection. Egg tarts arranged with militaristic precision. Glossy custard domes catching the light. Flaky crusts layered like geological records of good decisions.
He stared.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
A little blue screen appeared in front of him, yet offering no information or excuse as to why Ah'Ming had been spat out unceremoniously. Geez, even his bruises had bruises at this point.
He looked closer, almost curious.
It only repeated the same information that the calligraphy had.
Maybe it was for short-sighted people?
"Hey."
A voice, close. Human. Mildly annoyed.
"Are you done being a speed bump, or is this a performance piece?"
Ah'Ming rolled onto his side and finally noticed the crowd.
They were scattered across the plaza like debris from the same cosmic sneeze.
Some looked… normal.
A college-aged girl in a hoodie sat cross-legged on the ground, furiously checking her phone, muttering about signal bars. A middle-aged man in office slacks clutched a briefcase and looked like he'd aged three years in ten minutes. A teenager with headphones still around his neck stared at the emporium with religious awe.
And then there were the others.
A tall woman with moth-patterned eyes and antennae tucked neatly into her hair leaned against a lamppost, calmly brushing dust off her coat. A guy whose shadow didn't match his body kept trying to step on it, failing, and swearing under his breath. Someone in a chef's jacket was arguing with a floating speech bubble that hovered at shoulder height, the bubble aggressively displaying a thumbs-down icon.
Ah'Ming pushed himself upright.
But, none of the others were here. Why?
Even as he looked around, Ah'Ming couldn't see hide nor hair of his temporary teammates. Not Huipao, not Zhaoying, not Bianheng, not even those random people who were spat out of the wall.
To be completely honest though? He was pretty happy he couldn't see the crazy chef from the end. She was very cool, but also very loud.
"…Okay," he said, voice hoarse. "So I'm not hallucinating. That's good. Or very bad."
"You get used to it," said a boy sitting on the curb nearby.
He couldn't have been more than twelve. Freckles. Oversized backpack. Legs swinging like he was waiting for a bus. He was eating an egg tart with the focus of a seasoned professional.
It was a little brownish grey in the center, instead of a custard yellow.
Was he seriously eating the reward from the game???
The… the bone flavored tart?
Oh dear.
"You do?" Ah'Ming asked weakly.
The boy shrugged, flakes scattering onto the ground. "Fifth time for me. First time's always the worst. Second time you're angry. Third time you start taking notes."
Ah'Ming's eye twitched again. "Third time what."
The boy snorted. "Sub-story or instance ejection."
Before Ah'Ming could interrogate him further, the emporium doors slid open with a gentle chime.
Warm light spilled out. The smell intensified to dangerous levels.
A woman stepped outside.
She looked like someone's very kind aunt. Round glasses. Floral apron. Hair in a tidy bun. Her hands were dusted with flour, and she carried a metal tray stacked with fresh egg tarts, steam curling upward like a blessing.
She surveyed the assembled mess of humanity and… whatever else they were, and sighed.
"Goodness," she said. "They really do just drop you anywhere now."
Several people straightened instinctively.
The auntie smiled, sharp and knowing beneath the warmth. She was human, more human than the waitress from earlier. More kindly than the other paper people. But, her smile reached a bit too wide, her teeth a bit too sharp, her pupils a bit too small. It didn't help that she stood pretty rigid too, limbs locked as a marionette would.
"Welcome, dears. You've all been rewarded as promising newbies, with the bonded experts brought along as a gift."