Chapter Text
This update is actual garbage.
“Ths game is ruined,” I mutter at the screen, watching my character swing his shiny new sword with all the strength of a soggy noodle. The monster doesn’t even flinch before slapping me flat like a bug on a windshield. Dead. Again.
I throw my controller onto the desk with a thunk and flop back in my chair, groaning so dramatically. “Are you guys seeing this? Months of grinding and hours of my beautiful life now gone.”
Chat, naturally, is zero help.
skill issue lmao
cope harder
just uninstall
“Shut UP,” I snap, leaning forward to jab a finger at the webcam as if I can poke each chatter through the screen. “Don’t gaslight me. This is not my fault. This is sabotage. This is—” I gesture wildly at the monitor. “—a crime against humanity!”
The monster respawns as charge back in, button-mashing like a man possessed. Thirty seconds later, I’m face-down on the ground again.
Silence. I stare at the screen. Then, slowly, my hands rise in surrender. “Okay. Clearly someone at the company has it out for me. Personally. Who else would make this decision? Who else would look at this perfect game and say, ‘Yes, let’s make Wu Suo Wei mad today’? I bet I know who. The CEO.”
To be completely honest, I don’t know the CEO, I don’t even know his goddamn name or his face. He probably doesn’t even know me as well. But that doesn’t stop me from getting mad.
I lean toward the camera, lowering my voice like I’m about to leak secrets. “Yeah, you heard me. The FACELESS CEO of this godforsaken company. I can imagine him now. Old. Bald. Ugly. Sitting in his leather chair, counting his money while sipping overpriced wine, laughing at my misery.”
Chat explodes, a wall of skull emojis and crying-laughing faces.
“Don’t laugh!” I press my hands to my chest, affronted. “This is serious. This is a war now!. This man is probably fifty years old, I bet he has never touched a controller in his life, but he sits there barking orders at the actual developers like: ‘Make it shinier! Add more things to buy!’ Meanwhile, the game is collapsing.”
I tip my head back and glare at the ceiling, ranting to the invisible corporate villain hovering somewhere above me. “Listen here, Grandpa. You ruined my fun. You ruined my will to live. I want an apology. Not from some faceless intern typing up damage-control emails. From YOU. Your wrinkly mouth. On camera.”
I lean forward again, eyes narrowing, voice dropping low. “Or else… I will roast you. Every. Single. Day. Until the day I die.”
Chat is now a flood of CEO IS CRYING RN and someone check on the bald man.
And then, because apparently I have zero self-preservation—I blow a kiss at the webcam. “Fix the game, Daddy.”
The second it leaves my lips, I freeze.
Did I really just— “
Oh my god.” I slap a hand over my face, groaning into my palm. “Why am I like this?!”
Chat is no help, of course. They are absolutely feral, spamming hearts and clip it!!! faster than I can even process. I can already see it spreading across the internet: Wu Suo Wei, half-mad, calling some faceless CEO ‘Daddy.’
I sink down in my chair until my head nearly disappears from the webcam frame. “This is my villain origin story.”
But it’s too late. The damage is done. And if I’m being honest, there’s this tiny spark of satisfaction bubbling under my embarrassment. Because yeah, the game is ruined, but at least I’m entertaining while losing my mind.
The rant drags on a little longer, mostly me yelling at my useless character, taking swigs of water between dramatic sighs, and promising to uninstall every five minutes. Finally, I end the stream, cheeks aching from laughing at my own meltdown.
I shuffle around my apartment, stretching, yawning, still muttering under my breath. “Old, bald CEO. Sitting in his tower. Ruining my life.”
By the time I crawl into bed, the irritation is still buzzing under my skin. I pull the blanket up to my chin, snorting to myself one last time. “I swear, if I ever meet him, I’ll say it to his face.”
The thought makes me giggle again, but sleep drags me under before I can think too much about it.
After all—what are the chances I’ll ever actually meet him?