The First Twitch!

There was another problem… something he hadn't thought about.

'B-But I have goddamn erectile dysfunction! How the fuck am I gonna get a deepthroat if little star ain't gonna become big star?!'

Panic flooded his brain like a glitchy porn ad that wouldn't close.

And just as his existential crisis about his limp dick hit full throttle, the penthouse door suddenly slammed open like a scene straight out of an action movie. Adonis snapped his head towards the intruders, heart pounding.

First, there was a frail-looking man—good-looking, sure, but so ridiculously tall and skinny that he looked like he might drop dead from a strong gust of wind or an enthusiastic round of applause.

He wore an expensive suit, the kind that screamed "I'm important" and "I probably own a yacht I never use."

Adonis didn't need to think hard to know this guy was someone powerful.

Behind him stood a massive, muscular black man. Black tuxedo. Black sunglasses. Earpiece. The whole "I can snap you in half just by looking at you" package.

Seeing the tuxedo sent an unsettling déjà vu through Adonis's brain. It reminded him of that hallucination he had—something about crushing a man's head like a watermelon.

Obviously, this wasn't the guy from his fucked-up fever dream, but still… same aesthetic, same scary vibes.

And then the final realization hit him like a slap to the balls.

He'd seen this man before.

In the memories he unlocked earlier, this absolute mountain of a brute was there.

This man… this walking apocalypse of muscle…

Was the husband of the angel-faced doctor.

Adonis suddenly wished his limp dick wasn't the biggest problem in his life right now.

'Motherfucker! Look at those muscles. He could kill me with a goddamn pinky!'

Adonis shook his head violently, trying to banish the terrifying image of his skull being used as a stress ball.

'And you, fucking system, you want me to make this woman deepthroat me?! Are you trying to get me murdered?!'

He wasn't expecting an answer from the system. He was just venting like a man who had been thrown into a deathmatch with a gorilla. But, of course, the system just had to chime in like an annoying pop-up ad.

[This quest is to ensure you are worthy of this system and the rewards that come with it.][You can always opt not to do the quest, and the system will simply find someone more worthy to integrate with.]

Adonis blinked.

'Not do the quest and get myself killed? Yeah, no fucking chance.'

There was absolutely no way he wasn't at least going to try this quest. Not because he wanted a deepthroat from a stunning woman like her, of course not. He wasn't a perverted bastard. Not at all.

He nodded to himself like a wise monk reaching enlightenment.

The only reason he was doing this was because he wanted the system. That's all. Definitely not the deepthroat. Nope.

The system had already warned him that countless people were out for his blood. If he wanted to keep his head attached to his body, he needed power.

And if that meant seducing a gorgeous woman while her walking mountain of a husband loomed nearby, so be it.

'Fuck me… I'm actually gonna die, aren't I?'

'By the way, system, you said you can find someone else for the system, right? Does that mean there were other people before me who tried and failed?'

That was a damn good question. And it bummed him the fuck out.

In novels and manhwas, the system chose the protagonist because of some hidden talent, secret bloodline, or sheer determination. But here? It felt like he was just some random asshole the system was throwing shit at to see what stuck.

Then came the system's reply, and oh boy—

[That is true, host. There were other people before you, but all of them failed to complete the given task. In fact, you are the 999th participant overall.]

[Failing this will result in the system choosing someone else, while you—along with the other rankless humans—will live in eternal regret, wondering what could have been if you had not been a useless sack of flesh.]

Adonis' brain short-circuited.

'Holy fuck! Why the hell is this system talking like a goddamn anime villain?!'

Seriously, what was this passive-aggressive bullshit? Was this a system or an ex-girlfriend holding a grudge?

Still, he believed it. He didn't know why, but he just knew that if he failed, the system would dump him faster than a gold digger finding out her man was broke.

Which meant…

The 998 poor bastards before him had gotten different quests. But all of them, for one reason or another, had refused. Probably out of pride, morals, or because they weren't absolute degenerates.

Meanwhile, here he was. Number 999.

And apparently, the only one desperate enough to even consider this insanity.

'The system said rankless, right? What the hell does that mean? Man, I should've dug deeper into that woman's memories—dammit!'

Mental note: Next time you get the chance to invade someone's brain, go full stalker mode.

But before he could spiral into regret, his eyes snapped back to the three strangers who had barged in. Specifically, his focus locked onto the third person.

And sweet merciful fuck—

'Man, here I thought this doctor was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes on…'

Nope. Upgrade unlocked.

Now he was openly gawking at the new woman like a starving man staring at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Mid-twenties? Early thirties? Who the fuck cared? She was a walking masterpiece.

Long, raven hair cascading down her back like she had just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. Sharp eyes that looked like they could stab a man and make him say thank you.

Perfectly arched eyebrows that probably cost more than his rent. Skin so flawless it made porcelain jealous. Button nose. Full, red lips that looked like they existed purely to ruin men's lives. A petite frame, but—

Oh. Oh, God.

Unlike the doctor, though, this woman—this 'most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on... for now'—was built like she had been handcrafted by the gods on their best day.

She had fat in all the right places. Not the "I eat fast food every day and pretend it's protein" kind of fat—no, this was the rich, well-fed, well-maintained kind. The kind that screamed luxury.

She had the aura of a woman whose husband was some billionaire businessman overseas while she stayed behind, feasting on the finest cuisine, working out under the careful eye of a personal trainer who looked like he belonged in a cologne commercial, and having an entire fleet of butlers and maids waiting on her hand and foot.

And that white silk pajama?

That was a fucking crime.

The way it draped over her curves should've been illegal in at least 27 countries. No doubt, based on every cliché he'd ever read in web novels, this woman was the wife of that frail, walking toothpick of a man.

And then—

It happened.

Adonis licked his lips, his gaze glued to her body, and for the first time in over a goddamn decade—

A twitch.

A miracle.

Like a drop of water hitting the cracked, barren wasteland of a desert.

His eyes widened. His breath hitched. His hands trembled. Could it be?

'Oh my god!'

His mind was internally screaming but he kept his celebration on hold. He didn't want to get his hopes up only to be cockblocked by biology.

Swallowing hard, he hesitated for a second before glancing down.

And there it was.

The proof.

It was happening. It was moving.

Like a warrior rising from the ashes. Like a phoenix reborn. Like a long-lost soldier returning home from war.

He saw the twitch.

It was faint, but it was real.

His Little Star had moved.

But as the overwhelming emotions flooded his mind, one horrifying question surfaced—

'Whose fucking dick is this?!'