Beep, beep, beep, beep…
A roar like an old-fashioned ship's horn thundered beside his ear, dragging Zhou Zhuang out of sleep. Half-awake, he forced his bleary eyes open, only to be crushed by that familiar post-wake sluggishness.
He blinked a few times, didn't manage to make out anything meaningful, and his body's honest desire won out—he obediently curled back into the blankets, fully intending to return to his wonderfully weird dream.
Unfortunately, someone out there had no intention of letting him get his way.
The horn blared again.
No pauses this time—just a continuous, merciless howl, joined by a shrill male screech that stabbed straight into the brain. It had the unmistakable vibe of If you don't get up, I'll never stop.
Still stuck in shallow sleep, Zhou Zhuang took that second assault of noise like a personal declaration of war. A surge of fury shot from his gut to his skull.
"Aminos! Who the hell is it? It's the weekend—early in the damn morning—are you going to let people rest or not?!"
His eyes still hadn't focused, but his mouth was already fully online.
"Blasting noise this early—do you live alone or something? Must be nice! Whole family's just you, in and out with two holes—easy to feed, huh?!"
As his "Zaun-style" trash talk rattled off at high speed, the screaming noise… somehow vanished. At some point during his tirade, it simply stopped.
And with his target falling completely silent, the nameless fire he'd been stoking sputtered out just as fast.
After that one-sided "interaction request" received zero response, Zhou Zhuang was well and truly awake. His stalled body switched into work mode and started force-feeding his jammed brain the surrounding environment.
His poor, stuttering, underpowered brain—composed of several miraculous parts and still somehow belonging to a human—finally produced a result.
After a moment that felt both absurdly long and weirdly short, what filled his vision was a wall of sci-fi screens, all blue-and-white stripes and sterile glow.
He looked around.
He was inside a compact room that resembled the private office of some CEO from a TV drama—except the entire single-room space was made of an unknown metal. When he squinted and focused, he could even see piping embedded behind the metal panels: channels of liquid flowing through, glowing with an eerie green luminescence.
Convinced he had to still be dreaming, Zhou Zhuang raised a hand and slapped himself across the face.
Smack.
"Ow—damn, that hurts! Not a dream… so where is this? Was I kidnapped by aliens or something?"
He stared at the unfamiliar room, felt the burning sting on his cheek, and muttered at his own predicament. At the same time, the sheer obviousness of those high-tech displays gave him an inexplicable sense of déjà vu.
A mechanical broadcast echoed from all directions:
"Scanning: the Manager's current brainwave state has reached normal wakefulness. Requesting entry into the next procedure… Request approved. Authority transfer to the Manager's Assistant."
Zhou Zhuang snapped back to attention at the sound. He didn't care whether someone was watching him. He lifted his head toward the nearest source and blurted out his questions:
"Excuse me—what are you? Where am I? Are you invading Earth, planning to torture prisoners with a brutal schedule of eight hours a day and only two days off every week?"
He paused, then added with the solemnity of a man negotiating for his life:
"If it's the last one, I just hope you'll at least provide food, housing, and a wife assignment."
As he shouted into the air, his face twisted into a "tragic" smile—overwhelmed by the totally miserable future he'd just imagined.
Right as Zhou Zhuang was "mourning" in place, a burst of light, upbeat music chimed behind him. There was the mechanical hiss of something opening—
—and then a woman's voice, clear and composed:
"Hello, Manager. Welcome back to Lobotomy Corporation. I am your secretary, Angela. As the only person in this company you can trust unconditionally, I will work with you to resolve any and all difficulties that may arise."
Zhou Zhuang turned.
A breathtakingly beautiful woman stood there.
Long blue-gray hair. A figure that moved with quiet grace. Eyes softly closed, somehow still hinting at temptation—yet her whole presence radiated a cold, restrained aura.
And despite this being their first meeting, Zhou Zhuang felt an odd, inexplicable familiarity—like his mind recognized her before his logic could catch up.
While he was still wrestling with that sensation, Angela continued calmly:
"According to the system's scan, Manager, I appear to align strongly with your preferences in an opposite-sex partner. Additionally, the system indicates that your gaze has remained on my legs longer than on any other part of my body."
The moment those words landed, heat flooded Zhou Zhuang from head to toe. His bare toes dug into the metal floor with the desperate intensity of a man trying to excavate a three-bedroom apartment out of embarrassment.
But his pride—his fragile male dignity—refused to die quietly.
He lifted his head, opened his mouth, and managed a single, eloquent syllable:
"Uh…"
Seeing the faint, almost-not-there curve at the corner of Angela's lips, he shut up and resumed his "three-bedroom construction project" with renewed determination.
Angela seemed perfectly satisfied with her Manager's reaction and continued:
"My appearance is not something I can decide—just as parents cannot know what their child will look like in the future. Before formally meeting you, I was also concerned about whether my looks would suit your tastes. Fortunately, your first impression of me appears positive. This will be beneficial to our work going forward. So, Manager—what would you like to know?"
Still halfway through digging his way into the floor, Zhou Zhuang latched onto the one thing that bothered him most.
"From what you said… have we met before?"
"I would sincerely prefer the Manager to ask about matters related to work," Angela replied, "but it seems that for you, that elusive sense of familiarity is more important."
Zhou Zhuang scratched his head in embarrassment.
"However, deepening your understanding of me will improve efficiency," Angela continued. "So we will begin with introductions…"
Training Bunny Tutorial in progress…
"…So that means I transmigrated?!" Zhou Zhuang exclaimed after Angela's explanation. He collapsed backward onto the bed he'd awakened on.
"And it's into the famous City—where everything is 'people-oriented.'"
He looked at Angela, then finished the thought with a bleak honesty:
"Yeah… that's not exactly good news."
Angela frowned slightly as she noticed the wariness in his eyes.
"Manager, please do not misunderstand. I am truly human, and I am not the same Angela that exists in your memory. Or rather—Lobotomy Corporation as a whole differs fundamentally from the 'game' you remember."
Her tone remained calm, but every word was pointed.
"I—and this company—exist solely for you, and are responsible only to you. Even if the City's Head attempts to interfere, we can abandon City operations at any time and depart for other worlds to continue our business."
Zhou Zhuang fell silent, at a loss.
After a moment, he asked carefully:
"So I don't have to go through that loop like in the game… launching the Seed of Light… saving the world… all that?"
"Yes, Manager. You do not," Angela said with a gentle smile. "Your true will is the direction in which the company will advance."
There was something in that smile—something that made the last sentence feel heavier than it sounded.
But Zhou Zhuang only heard what mattered most.
"If I don't have to take on any responsibility," he said, nodding, "then I'll accept being the company's Manager."
He paused, then added, trying to sound at least a little reliable:
"Of course, I'll do my best to be a qualified Manager. I won't let the company go bankrupt."
The instant his words fell, the familiar broadcast voice returned:
"Notice: The Manager has successfully assumed office. Lobotomy Corporation is now formally connecting."
The room began to tremble.
Strangely, no sound came with it—only the sensation of motion, as if reality itself was shifting around them.
Angela stepped forward with a smile and extended her right hand.
Zhou Zhuang hesitated, then reached out and took it.
Her hand was cool—almost too steady.
"Although I have already said it once," Angela murmured, "welcome back to Lobotomy Corporation, my dear Manager."
-------
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