The System Keeps Making Me Do Indecent Missions [BL, R18]

Chapter 124: [The Second World] Chapter 124: The Demoted Intern

Before Lucien could enjoy the feeling of being home or take another clear look at his brother’s face, his vision went black again. This time, there was not even a proper notification from that damn system.

When his consciousness returned, the first thing that caught his eye was a towering glass building, reflecting the blinding sunlight. The building’s facade bore the Thorne Media Group logo, large enough to be seen from a kilometer away. People bustled in and out, everyone in a hurry, holding coffee cups or thick folders. The scent of office perfume mixed with the cold air conditioning from the main lobby, creating the signature atmosphere of corporate workers.

Lucien looked down at himself. A crisp white shirt, black trousers, polished leather shoes, and an ID badge on his chest that read Intern Graphic Design. He flipped the badge over; the printed photo showed a face so familiar it made him skip a beat.

It was his own face.

Not the face of a strange original host. It was the face he had seen in the mirror every day for years in the real world. The same eyebrows, the same nose bridge, the same slightly upward-slanting eyes. The only difference was that he looked a bit more mature, his features sharper, his jawline more defined, fitting the twenty-two years of age of the original host in this world. It was noticeably older than the twenty-year-old body he had just left behind.

Startled, Lucien touched his face, then looked back at the badge. It was still him, just a twenty-two-year-old version. His skin lacked the tender youth of a teenager, bearing the subtle traces of a young man who had been working for a few years.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered.

A familiar flapping sound echoed in his ears. The flying, chubby water droplet appeared again, its transparent wings beating incessantly as it circled Lucien’s head like an annoying fly.

[Welcome, host, to the second world.] 000 spoke, its voice ringing directly in his mind: [Here is a brief introduction: You are currently in the body of Lucien Sinclair, twenty-two years old, an intern at the Graphic Design department of Thorne Media. The original host had a close college friend named Ethan Lee, who framed him and pushed him down to this position. The capture target this time is Damian Thorne, the CEO of Thorne Media, who is also the person the original host has secretly loved for a long time.]

Lucien was still fiddling with the ID badge. "Hold on, why is my face here? In the previous world, I transmigrated into someone else, right?"

[Just a coincidence. This time, the system placed you in a body that perfectly matches your soul’s appearance, only differing in age. It saves resources from rendering a new face, and it also saves you the time of getting used to a stranger’s face. As for the age, each world has a different timeline; you just enter whichever body is a match. Is there anything wrong with that?]

Lucien fell silent for a moment. It was indeed convenient; at least he would not startle himself every time he looked in the mirror. But the strange feeling remained. He looked at his face on the ID badge once more, the twenty-two-year-old face with a sharper jawline and a keener gaze, then sighed and tucked it into his pocket.

"Alright then. That was fast; I did not even get to take a sip of water at home."

[I told you, the time ratio has been adjusted. One day in the real world equals ten years here. If you finish the mission quickly, only a few hours will have passed when you return home.]

Lucien did not bother to reply, because at that moment, a massive wave of memories crashed into his brain like an undertow. The images, sounds, and emotions of the original host vividly surfaced like a movie playing at ten times the speed.

He saw a university lecture hall, where the original host and Ethan Lee first met. Two young men sharing a passion for graphic design, staying up all night doing projects, sharing a pack of raw instant noodles in a cramped rented room. The original host always had better ideas and higher grades, but Ethan was a smooth talker who knew how to network.

Then came the day they both applied to Thorne Media. The original host was hired as a Design Assistant, while Ethan was just a regular employee. The original host always helped his friend, pulling Ethan into his projects without the slightest suspicion.

But Ethan was different.

The memory of the day the original host was called to the HR department appeared with crystal clarity. The department head’s cold face, the files thrown onto the table, the accusations of falsifying data, stealing ideas, and causing damage to the project. The original host stared at the evidence he had never seen before, his mouth open but unable to utter a single word.

Behind the meeting room door, Ethan stood there, the corners of his lips slightly raised.

Afterward, the original host was demoted. Straight from Design Assistant to Intern. All his unfinished projects were handed over to Ethan. Thanks to that, Ethan was promoted rapidly, taking the position of Chief Assistant in just a few months, a seat that should have belonged to the original host.

Lucien opened his eyes in shock. A dull ache lingered in his head, but even more persistent was the original host’s residual resentment in his chest. He rubbed his temples.

"Son of a bitch." Lucien blurted out a curse.

[The original host suffered from mild depression after that incident. He dared not tell anyone, nor did he dare to resign for fear of losing his job. For months, he just buried his head in the menial tasks assigned by his superiors, lacking even the most basic rights of a full-time employee.] 000 added, its tone failing to hide its pity: [And you know, the original host had been secretly in love with Damian Thorne for a long time. Every time Damian walked past the design department, his heart would pound, but he never dared to look up. For the past few months, even the chance to see the boss has been rare.]

"An office romance dead in the water." Lucien remarked, rubbing his forehead again: "Anyway, a mission is a mission. After all, this world is just a script."

He took a deep breath, beginning to sift through the original host’s remaining memories regarding professional skills.

The original host had an extremely solid foundation in fine arts. Since his university years, he had mastered Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign, even teaching himself After Effects and Premiere Pro to edit videos. The original host’s portfolio was thick, ranging from logo designs and brand identities to promotional materials and magazines. If Ethan had not played dirty, he might already be an Art Director by now.

Lucien closed his eyes, feeling those skills flowing into his fingertips. In the real world, he had also studied drawing and taken a few online design courses while convalescing in the hospital. Although not as professional as the original host, with the influx of memories, he was confident he could complete the work without 000 cheating.

"I suppose you actually have a conscience this time," Lucien glanced at the flapping water droplet.

[I always have a conscience; you just refuse to admit it.] 000 snorted: [Now get into the company. Today is your first day working as the real Lucien Sinclair, do not mess this up.]

Lucien looked up at the high-rise building once more. The sunlight slanted through the glass, casting glaring reflections onto the street. He adjusted his collar, lightly patted the pocket holding his ID badge, and strode toward the main entrance.

"Ethan Lee, right?" Lucien smirked faintly: "Let’s see what kind of game you are playing this time."

The automatic glass doors slid open seamlessly, and a sudden, biting blast of frigid air from the air conditioning system rushed outward, striking him squarely in the face. Inside the expansive main lobby, the staff were still bustling back and forth in a ceaseless flurry of corporate activity. Over at the front reception desk, a young woman dressed in the pristine company uniform offered a polite, welcoming smile, greeting him with a deeply familiar nod.

Most likely, the original host had walked through this very space day after day, yet it was a tragic reality that absolutely no one still remembered that he was once an exceptionally promising designer.

ucien swiped his identification card at the magnetic security turnstile. A crisp beep pierced the air, and the barrier smoothly swung open to grant him passage. He stepped inside the elevator cabin and pressed the button for the seventh floor, the precise location where the Graphic Design department was situated. The metallic elevator doors slowly and steadily slid shut, perfectly reflecting his entire figure upon the polished, gleaming surface of the glass.

It was still that profoundly familiar face. It was simply noticeably more mature, possessing far sharper and more striking angles than the twenty-year-old version of the body that he had just left behind. Lucien stared at his own reflection in the makeshift mirror, slightly tilting his head to carefully observe the clearly defined contours of his jawline, and then he suddenly let out a faint, soft chuckle.

"Twenty-two years of age. At the very least, this time around I am completely spared from the hassle of getting accustomed to a stranger’s face, and I must admit, my twenty-two-year-old self actually looks remarkably decent."

[I told you so, the system is being extremely reasonable and accommodating this time.]

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