Round One (01)

"Do... hic... do you need emotional detachment, or... hic... psychological counseling?"
023 performed its duties diligently, but couldn't stop hiccuping between sobs.
Si Jiu: ...I think you're the one in need of emotional detachment and psychological counseling.
As an intelligent terminal, are you really this sentimental?
Suddenly, she wondered why it had always hidden its "personality," acting with nothing but a flat mechanical voice.
The child seemed a bit slow-witted.
"Stop crying. I’m not blaming you. It was my own carelessness."
System: [!!!]
System: [Whimper... sob... wail...]
Si Jiu felt weary: "If the mission failed, so be it. Can you please stop crying?"
System: [...hic? Who said... fail... hic... failed?]
"It didn’t fail?" Si Jiu was surprised. "The time isn’t up yet! But... if it didn’t fail, why are you crying? You look like you’ve lost your father."
System: [...]
Truly, a heartless scoundrel.
"Hurry up and tally the results."
System: [...........] Very well, even more heartless.

To be this self-reproachful and saddened over being stabbed to death for such a thing—how foolish.
The system wiped away its tears (though it had none), resuming its cold, ruthless (or so it seemed) flat tone.
"Commencing mission settlement. World Two: Golden Finger delivery complete, task completion grade C, customer satisfaction grade F. Host performance evaluation: Poor-. Employee rank: Rookie."
Si Jiu: "..."
Not surprising at all.
No, perhaps a little surprising: "So the lowest performance grade isn’t just Poor, but Poor-? That’s new to me."
"But you haven’t explained—why didn’t the mission fail?"
The system’s voice faltered suspiciously. "About that... I lack the required authority and am unsure. I need to apply to the higher department for clarification."
A gleam flickered in Si Jiu’s eyes. "Fine, then submit the application."
The system choked, and after a pause replied, "Application submitted. You will receive a reply within three working days. Please be patient, Host."
"Alright. In that case, let’s proceed to the next world."
So quickly? No need to adjust your mood? The host really is a heartless task machine!
Suddenly felt sorry for the male lead.
"Mission world launching... zzzzzz... deploying... zzzzzz... zzzz..."
Si Jiu: ???
23, what’s wrong? 23, are you there? 23, are you still alive?

No response. She could barely sense the system bound to her soul.
Then a strong suction pulled at her, followed by a crushing sensation, and finally she felt weightless all over.
Her vision, once shrouded in white as the world launched, gradually cleared—then: "!!!"
"23, system, little system, system dear? Hello? Are you still there?"
After a burst of static, the system’s feeble voice came through, sounding as if from a great distance, accompanied by currents and intermittent instability.
"I... zzzz... still here... zzzz... deployment issue... zzzz... already reported... zzzz... Host, please remain calm... zzzz..."
She understood: deployment had malfunctioned, the system had reported it to its superiors to seek help, and she was to remain calm.
Remain calm... my foot!
What is this place?
A dim, oppressive room, heavy with the smell of blood, and a chilling, icy aura that made Si Jiu feel unexpectedly comfortable... wait, comfortable?
Most disturbingly, Si Jiu realized she couldn’t feel her "body," and her perspective was restricted—she could only see the four-poster canopy bed directly in front of her, its layered gauze obscuring what lay within, only faintly hinting at a person resting inside.
Si Jiu tried to move, but couldn’t.
"23, little system? My child? ...What’s my current situation? Could you explain?"
With no other option, limited as she was, Si Jiu could only call for her system.