“What?! Everyone Except Me Is a Villain (GL) - Chapter 41
Seeing Jin Buning staring at her, Zhen Xier frowned and gave a look of disgust.
“What are you staring at me for? I can’t decide your future.”
Jin Buning couldn’t help asking, “Then what about you? What major will you choose?”
“I told you already, our truce only lasts until my identity is made public. Don’t think you can cozy up to me for protection! Choose whatever major you like!”
The moment “major” was mentioned, Zhen Xier’s tone grew sharp, her emotions rippling beneath the surface.
Jin Buning still couldn’t understand why she was so upset. She could only try to comfort her.
“Alright, I won’t ask. I’ll go now.”
She turned quickly, not wanting to further irritate Zhen Xier. But halfway through leaving, she hesitated. What if Zhen Xier suddenly fainted again? So she stayed nearby, stealing glances from a safe distance.
Zhen Xier didn’t notice her at all. She seemed lost in her own world, breathing deeply to steady herself. By the time Teacher Dong opened the office door and called her in, Zhen Xier had already slipped back into her usual fragile, pitiful persona as if only when facing Jin Buning could she let her guard down for a while.
Jin Buning sighed inwardly, but she didn’t have the energy to pity anyone else. She could barely take care of herself.
With that thought, she took her volunteer application form and left the office.
When she got home, Aunt Zhu was already cooking. Xu Yixin had sent a message saying she wouldn’t be back for dinner off wandering somewhere again. Despite her good exam results, it seemed there was no one she truly wanted to share them with. Her phone was still under surveillance, and she never chatted with anyone privately.
After dinner, Aunt Zhu hurried off because her child had a fever again, so she was constantly rushing between home and work.
Once more, Jin Buning found herself alone, with no one left to share the evening with. She returned to her room, changed into her pajamas, and checked her system interface.
Host survival time: 100 days
Other statistics: Kidnapped – 3 times; Attacked – 2 times; Unknown attacks – 7; Cyber-bullied – 18 times.
…
Other data showed that although the past three months had been “peaceful,” her life had been anything but ordinary. Some of the incidents she’d encountered were even classified as “hostile encounters,” though she hadn’t realized it at the time.
She flipped through the menus idly, feeling unusually unmotivated tonight. The so-called Love App felt increasingly pointless. You had to shout the skill name aloud to activate it, and every mission had to be manually unlocked before viewing everything about it screamed “unfinished beta test.”
[You have one new message.]
A sudden ding echoed in her head, and a small envelope icon appeared. Startled, Jin Buning tensed then relaxed once she sensed no danger and opened the message.
[The system has detected your dissatisfaction with the Love App. To improve your experience, we’ve provided a user manual.]
It wasn’t the first time the app had responded to her thoughts, but this was the first time it had actually done something about it. She opened the manual carefully.
Apparently, there were many ways to collect memory fragments, but because her Love App was only Level 1, most features were locked.
Requirements to upgrade to Level 2:
- Complete 5 missions (including main, side, or special quests)
- Use the Love App for over three months.
- Do not establish a romantic relationship with any world character.
- Accumulate 1,000 memory fragments.
…
Strangely, everything in this “manual” seemed tailor-made for her current situation, but she had no proof. Still thinking about it, she picked up her pajamas and went into the bathroom.
It was the only private place left in the house, the only space she truly felt free.
After checking that nothing seemed out of place, she asked aloud,
“What happens when I reach Level 2?”
Her voice echoed against the tiles. Silence. For a few seconds, there was no reply. Maybe whoever ran this app was scrambling to make something up, or maybe she’d just guessed wrong.
Then a new line appeared:
[You’ll find out once you reach Level 2. (smile)]
A line of text popped up, annoyingly cheerful, complete with an emoji.
“If I’m not satisfied after upgrading, can I file a complaint?”
[We’re confident you’ll be satisfied, Host.]
The system’s answer felt smug, even a little mocking, but the promise made her hesitate. It was like a gamble: if she won, maybe she really could turn the tide.
And she knew memory fragments were valuable to the system. That must be why it kept trying to bait her into earning more.
“Alright. Upgrade to Level 2.”
The moment she confirmed, the interface flashed 1,000 fragments vanished, and a progress bar appeared.
[Upgrading… please wait.]
A 60-second countdown began. Jin Buning adjusted her posture, waiting for whatever “improvement” the system had in store.
[Upgrade complete. Welcome home, Host.]
The once-plain holographic screen now looked sleeker. Information was neatly categorized; skill suggestions and shop items were personalized. The five “villains” were pinned to the top, and the old favorability meter had been replaced with satisfaction level.
It looked cleaner, smarter, yet still required her to say embarrassing skill names aloud to activate them.
“Can I complain now?”
The more she explored, the more disappointed she became. It hardly seemed worth spending 1,000 fragments for such a minor update.
Just then, the mission icon flashed. Alongside the main and special quests, there were now side quests and limited-time missions all visible in advance. It looked promising until she noticed how absurdly difficult they all were.
“Do you offer seven-day returns?”
She asked again, half to test the system’s limits.
This time, the interface trembled violently.
Between the mission tabs, a pink heart icon appeared.
Jin Buning instantly understood this damned system had finally decided to introduce love quests. She snorted and opened it anyway.
[Please select a target before starting the romance quest.]
A textbook game prompt. Nothing surprising. She wasn’t interested in any of the five villains anyway.
“I want a refund.”
The moment she spoke, the entire screen shuddered, and this time, it wasn’t just the interface. The entire villa seemed to quake.
Jin Buning froze, scanning her surroundings. Then, as she blinked, something tore through the screen and flew out.
She instinctively caught it only to find herself holding a familiar little creature.
It was Mengmeng.
It glared at her, furious, as if it wanted to bite her hand off.
“So you’re still alive!”
“What do you mean by alive? It’s your fault for being so slow! Do you know how long it took me to gather enough energy to break out?!”
Mengmeng wriggled angrily, but couldn’t escape her grip. Jin Buning’s physical stats had improved she was much stronger than before. The creature that used to knock her around now couldn’t budge her at all.
She tightened her grip slightly, smiling with a dangerous calm that made Mengmeng’s spherical body tremble.
“So, you’re telling me I spent a thousand fragments just to release you?”
Her tone was sweet but icy. She twirled the creature in her hand as if deciding whether to crush it. Mengmeng avoided her eyes, suddenly guilty, confirming her suspicion.
“So, what exactly can you do for me?”
Her voice was steady now, commanding. She wasn’t that helpless girl from before. Even stripped of her immortal powers, the pride and authority engraved in her soul remained.
Mengmeng’s whole body shook, as if scrambling for an excuse. But it couldn’t tell her the truth that it needed her world’s memory fragments as energy. Without them, it was powerless. And revealing that weakness might mean losing its freedom entirely.
“I’ll give you three seconds,” she said coldly. “If you can’t”
“What? You think you can threaten me? Without me, you’ll die!”
Before it could finish, a dagger materialized in her hand.
Mengmeng scoffed, pretending not to care. As if she could hurt me with something made from my own power.
But then Jin Buning turned the blade not toward Mengmeng, but toward her own throat.
“By that logic,” she said softly, “if I die, you go down with me. We’re bound, aren’t we? That means if I’m gone, whatever you’re planning dies with me, too.”
The little orb froze.
She had found the truth she’d suspected all along. The Love App wasn’t helping her. It was helping itself.
Mengmeng quivered violently now, unable to hide its panic.
“Here’s the deal,” Jin Buning said, spinning the dagger lightly in her hand. “Either you give back my thousand fragments, or you pay me with an equivalent skill. Fair enough?”
“Uh… well… that’s a bit…”
Mengmeng’s voice trembled. It couldn’t stop staring at the dagger glinting dangerously in her hand, its own power, turned against it. And for the first time, it was afraid of her.