This Life, I Will Be the Protagonist

When in doubt—pause.

Rita didn't rush to deal with Dull Game. Instead, she pulled out her Game Addict's Console and began logging the current game—the one packed with rare crafting materials.

[Game Detected: It's Not the Craft That Sucks]

[Loading game data… please wait… please wait…]

[Upload progress: 3%... 21%... 56%... 99%...]

[Upload complete]

A new icon appeared next to the Defend the Gacha title on the console interface.

It showed a giant, brightly-colored board like a giant game of Ludo, scattered with Block-shaped players. At the center sat a glowing-winged Block figure cross-legged, hugging a capsule machine, surrounded by egg-shaped capsules. She was stuffing one more in with eager hands, clearly in a rush to hoard as many as possible.

Off to her two o'clock, a Fat Duck pointed at her with one wing, while speaking into a phone with the other. Its beady black eyes were deadly serious, its beak slightly open—who knew what it was croaking into the receiver.

Rita felt a tinge of regret that she hadn't recorded the game when she met her two "teachers." At the time, all she could think about was catching up on lessons—not game logs.

A shame…

Putting her console away, Rita turned back to Dull Game.

She opened the cylinder—no golden bullet.

"Every time you make a choice that goes against your instincts, a consumed 'Stupidity' bullet will be reactivated."

A choice against instinct.

She clicked the cylinder back into place and swept her gaze across the game board, eyeing the players and activity packs.

Instinct… what was her instinct? And how could she go against it?

Rita flew to the center of the board, threw her arms wide, and shouted:

"I, BS-Rita, have tons of Divine Relics!!!"

Every Fat Duck froze.

She waited three seconds, then looked down and checked the cylinder again.

Still no bullet.

"I, BS-Rita, am the rising star of the Divine Game! The gods' favorite student! The chosen wielder of the Divine Relics!"

The Fat Ducks twitched.

Their webbed feet curled involuntarily.

"Teachers! Show yourselves! Teach me! I'll give you my life!"

Still nothing.

Rita glanced around, locked on a random Fat Duck, and flew straight at it. She landed in front of it, threw her arms around it, and whispered:

"Let's get married. I don't care who you are—I'll love you forever. Every coin I earn will be yours."

Silence.

She flicked her wrist, spinning Dull Game open in the air.

Still no bullet.

Rita let go of the duck and folded her arms, sinking deep into thought.

Apparently, talking nonsense—even insane nonsense—wasn't enough.

"A choice that goes against instinct..."

She stood there, slowly turning the nearly complete revolver in her hands, tracing every line, every Block that made it whole.

The gun's color scheme was red and white—elegant but brutal.

Though it was a revolver, usually compact by design, this one wasn't small at all.

Even Blockified, Dull Game was as large as the Wrathful Moon—likely both about 17 centimeters in real size.

The barrel was long and thin, pure white with golden vines swirling around it. The gold threaded through the red cylinder, into the gilded trigger, and wound up across the white grip, forming an intricate magical glyph.

It already looked complete. She had no idea where a ninth piece could even go.

After a long silence, she flew back to her spot on the board and canceled the time-stop.

The world resumed.

Rita closed her eyes. She could hear skill explosions, multilingual player chatter, some intelligible, some not. She could even hear the sizzle of frying food from a nearby food cart.

Time ticked forward in her mind.

At the 119-second mark after the Renovation was completed, she opened her eyes, pointed Dull Game at the giant material mass she'd created…

Pulled the trigger.

Bang—!

Success.

She'd let the seconds slip by without trying to confirm the bullet's status, gambling on a sliver of a chance at the last possible moment—something she'd never, ever do.

And at that very moment, "Stupidity" reactivated.

It was a blank.

The fifty fused materials scattered into individual pieces.

Rita holstered her gun, packed the materials into capsules, and stuffed them into her Magician's Wisdom Tooth.

[Gods & Devils Main Chat]

"Let's get married, Stupidity!"

"Let's get married, Stupidity!"

"Let's get married, Stupidity!"

"What happened?? What's going on?"

"HAHAHAHA I was there! I recorded it! Who wants to see?!"

"Maangmaang, send it to me!"

"Post it in the group!"

"I want it too!!!"

[Video sent]

"…"

The collective IQ in the group had dropped below room temperature. Factions didn't matter anymore. Even Captain and Deceitful Bloom were in the chat.

Stupidity double-checked to make sure they were in the main group chat—not the small, private demon one.

They tried steering the conversation back on track.

"She's going to strip the game of materials at this rate."

"I'll love you forever, Stupidity!"

"I'll love you forever, Stupidity!"

"I'll love you forever, Stupidity!"

"…"

A room full of lunatics.

For the first time ever, Stupidity actually missed the days when the chat was dead.

Blank — blank — "Stupidity."

Dull Game was once again unusable.

At least she'd fired the "Stupidity" bullet at herself. And since she was still inside the crafting space, she had time to figure out how to reactivate it again.

But the previous method wouldn't work a second time.

Doing something when you already knew the result wasn't a gamble. It wasn't a risk. It wasn't "against instinct"—not for someone like her who hated uncertainty and loved stability.

And there was no room for error either.

She'd already received a notification over an hour ago:

[Temporal Disturbance: The river of time in Month Theme Park is becoming agitated from repeated tampering. It is angry. Players who have used time-based skills during this event will be penalized. Please revere time the way you revere fate.]

[Detected: 4 uses of time skills. Your skill Master Thief Dragon will be on a 24-day cooldown. This cooldown cannot be shortened.]

All four uses had been inside the labyrinth.

One use = 6 days cooldown.

That meant she wouldn't be able to use it again until two full rounds of Divine Game had passed…

But instead of despair, she felt excitement.

She'd used Wasteland Manual—a time-freeze skill—far more than four times, and that wasn't penalized at all.

So maybe it didn't count as a time-based skill?

That made no sense.

There was only one explanation.

Cat's Ideal was different.

Divine Relics were different. And so were their rules.