The Outsider's View from the Top

Leo Vanderburg had never in his life imagined being tossed into the air by a group of drunk alumni like a triumphant gladiator. His glasses were askew, and through the blurry lenses, the swaying neon lights on the ceiling looked like a broken kaleidoscope from his childhood. Even more absurdly, he still had that damn McLaren key in his pocket—it was currently digging into his thigh at an extremely uncomfortable angle, reminding him that none of this was a hallucination.

"Put me down! I'm going to fucking puke!" Leo struggled and yelled, his voice drowned out by the deafening cheers. Someone's elbow accidentally slammed into his ribs. He sucked in a sharp breath of pain but caught the unexpected scent of a familiar perfume.

Clara had somehow squeezed to the edge of the crowd, her slender fingers gripping the back of some burly guy's collar. "Put him down, you idiots!" Her voice was like a sharp pair of scissors, instantly snipping the festive atmosphere. Leo felt a sudden weightlessness, then fell heavily to the floor—thankfully, his butt hit the ground first this time.

"Are you okay?" Clara knelt, her eyelashes casting a shadow in the dim light of the bar. Leo noticed she was wearing deep red lipstick today, which made her look just like a dangerous femme fatale from an old movie—if you ignored the fact that she was currently dabbing the beer foam off his forehead with a tissue.

"Aside from possibly two broken ribs and being marinated in alcohol, just peachy," Leo said, trying to stand up, but his legs gave way and he almost knelt again. Clara's arm promptly wrapped around his waist, a gesture that short-circuited his brain for a full three seconds.

"I'm taking you home," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument, like an editor rejecting a terrible manuscript.

"Wait!" Julian's voice cut through the noisy background of the bar like a rusty saw. He stood three meters away, his expensive suit stained with a suspicious liquid, his face as ugly as if he'd just swallowed a hedgehog whole. "Doesn't anyone find it strange? How could this loser who can't even pay his phone bill solve a strike with a single call?"

The bar suddenly became so quiet you could hear the ice melting. Leo felt Clara's fingers tighten slightly around his waist.

"Maybe it's because he knows how to communicate with people better than you do?" Clara said with a smile, but her eyes were as cold as a Siberian winter. "After all, not everyone needs to rely on their family name to prove their worth."

Julian's face turned the color of pig's liver. Leo silently gave Clara a thumbs-up in his mind—the high school newspaper editor-in-chief who could argue debate opponents to tears was clearly still in top form.

"Say whatever you want," Julian said, suddenly flashing a chilling smile.

Leo subconsciously reached for the key in his pocket.

System: "Penthouse verification program activated. Deed has been sent to the Host's email. Friendly reminder: It is recommended to leave the current premises immediately. Safety factor: 17%."

"Uh, I just remembered I haven't fed my goldfish..." Leo backed away with a dry laugh, bumping into Max Horowitz, who had appeared behind him at some point. The shrewd lawyer was sizing him up with the look of someone assessing a rare antique.

"Mr. Vanderburg," Max's voice was as sweet as honey-laced poison, "I was wondering if you'd be interested in a cup of coffee? I have some... business proposals to discuss with you."

Leo's survival instincts blared a level-ten alarm. He caught Clara's slight shake of the head and, taking the hint, clutched his stomach. "Sorry! My stomach's a bit upset! Must have been all the alcohol!"

Before anyone could react, he had bolted for the exit like a startled rabbit. The moment he pushed open the bar door, a cold wind mixed with raindrops slapped his face. Only then did Leo realize he'd left his jacket inside.

"Damn it..." he muttered, pulling out his phone, about to call a cab. The roar of an engine sounded in the distance. A bright orange taxi had stopped by the roadside at some point, its headlights gleaming like a beast's eyes in the rainy night.

System: "Time remaining for safe evacuation: 1 minute 23 seconds."

Leo suddenly had the urge to slap himself to see if he was dreaming. But as he read the bizarre message again, a more terrifying thought struck him—if all of this was real, then his biggest worry wasn't how to explain the apartment, but why someone, or something, had chosen him as the system's host.

Rainwater trickled down his neck and into his collar. Leo took a deep breath, preparing to get into the taxi. Just as he pulled the door open, the bar door was pushed open again, and Julian's roar pierced the curtain of rain: "Leo! You think you can get away?"

Leo didn't look back. He ducked into the taxi and found the seat automatically adjusting to the perfect position—as if the car had been waiting for him. "He... hello!" The car had no driver! "Is this a Tesla Robotaxi?" The engine roared to life, the dashboard glowing with a serene blue light. In the rearview mirror, Julian's figure grew smaller and smaller, while on his phone screen, a new message popped up with a strange smiling emoji:

[Welcome home, Host. Would you like to navigate to your penthouse? (◕‿◕✿)]

"The system is everywhere!" Leo's finger trembled as it hovered over the screen. The emoji reminded him of a horror movie he'd seen as a kid—when appliances start thinking for themselves, disaster follows. But right now, compared to the threat of a possible AI-dominated world, he was more worried about the black Mercedes that was suddenly accelerating in the rearview mirror.

The rain distorted into strange patterns on the windshield. The navigation screen suddenly lit up on its own, displaying a route he had never seen before.

"Turn right into the dark alley," the system's mechanical female voice said gently.

"What? Not even a bicycle can—" Leo's protest was cut short as the steering wheel suddenly turned on its own. The car slid into the narrow alley at an impossible angle. In the rearview mirror, Julian's car, unable to brake in time, shot straight past the intersection.

Leo's heart was about to pound out of his chest. He felt like he was in a Fast & Furious spin-off—The IT Guy and His Demonic Taxi. The alley ended in a brick wall. Just as he was about to scream, the wall suddenly split apart—it was an automated garage entrance disguised as a dead end.

The car parked smoothly in a spot. The moment the engine died, Leo found himself sitting in the dark, panting like a beached fish.

System: "Arrived safely. The elevator has been activated for you. Friendly reminder: It is recommended to check your email, there's a surprise~"

"I hate you," Leo said, but he still opened his email with trembling hands. The subject of the latest message almost made him bite his tongue: "Your Order for a Private Library Has Been Delivered." "Who was bragging and dragged me into it this time?..."

The elevator doors slid open silently. The moment Leo stepped inside, a sensor in the car suddenly started playing Queen's "We Are the Champions." The irony was so thick he couldn't help but laugh out loud—if this was a nightmare, at least the scriptwriter had a decent sense of humor.

The elevator went straight to the top floor. The moment the doors opened, Leo's knees almost betrayed him again. The scene before him looked like it was torn straight from the pages of Architectural Digest—floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the entire Manhattan skyline, and in the center of the living room stood three enormous wooden bookcases, stuffed with hardcover first editions.

"This is impossible..." Leo walked to the nearest bookcase, his fingers brushing over the gold-stamped spines. He had seen a few of these out-of-print books in auction catalogs, each worth tens of thousands. The most terrifying part was that on a small table next to the bookcase sat a steaming cup of coffee, and next to it—was his pen.

The same pen he was sure he had left at the bar ten minutes ago.

Leo stared at his phone, feeling reality unravel like a ball of yarn a cat had played with. Outside, a bolt of lightning split the night sky, illuminating the neon sign of the distant bar. In that fleeting flash of light, he thought he saw a familiar figure holding a black umbrella, standing in the rain, looking up at this building.

But when the lightning faded, there was only the rain-swept, empty street—and Leo's deepening fear.