"Move!"

Serena Whitmore yanked open the door of the apartment building, a bag of apples dangling from her hand. Just as she stepped out, someone above yelled in panic.

She instinctively looked up—only to see a flowerpot plummeting straight toward her.

A heavy thud.

A sharp scream. "Oh my god, someone’s dead!"

Blood mixed with dirt splattered everywhere.

A flash of blinding pain hit her, and then Serena’s consciousness was gone.

After what felt like a long, empty moment, she found herself floating above her own body, watching police cars and an ambulance rush to the scene.

Then the world twisted violently. Serena felt herself being sucked into some kind of vortex.

Serena died. Killed by a falling flowerpot.

Serena lived again—well, more like she woke up in another world.

When her senses finally steadied, she was staring at a sleek, sterile office that felt way too fancy to be familiar.

Totally not her place.

She looked down. A bowl in her left hand. A spoon in her right. And she was feeding a little boy beside her.

The kid’s cheeks were puffed out, and he glared at her like she owed him money.

What are you staring at?

Serena shot the glare right back, then set the bowl and spoon down. Whatever. Don’t eat then.

The moment she put the stuff down, the boy spat out a mouthful of half‑chewed food right onto her face.

“Dude—seriously? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Serena Whitmore yelped and shot to her feet, rushing into the bathroom to clean herself up.

Damn it, she cursed inwardly, just wait till I’m done washing—then I’ll deal with you.

Beep-beep-beep-beep. Detecting a qualified host. Bind now?

Serena splashed water on her face, grabbed a tissue, and was about to wipe off the mess when a mechanical voice suddenly echoed right beside her ear.

She froze, shook her head hard, thinking she must be imagining things, then lowered her gaze to keep blotting her clothes.

But another voice chimed in, this time soft and cutesy, like a little kid trying to sell candy.

Hello, Host. I’m System A, the luxury-spender system you can upgrade with money. I can help you solve your current problems. Would you like to bind with me?

What the hell?

Serena’s eyes widened. She scrambled back until her spine hit the wall, staring around the empty bathroom with a mix of shock and suspicion.

Don’t worry, I’m not a ghost.

“You’re… talking to me?” Serena whispered, almost too freaked out to breathe.

Yes.

“You a human or a ghost?”

Her hand flew to her chest, trying to steady her pounding heart. If something had jumped out at her right then, she might’ve just ascended on the spot.

Hold on. There was a word she almost missed.

System?

Serena didn’t read that many web novels, but she knew enough. Weren’t systems something that only popped up in stories?

Detecting Host’s soul state. Requirements for binding met. Will the Host bind?

Since she didn’t respond, the system asked again.

Sensing her hesitation, System A hurried to start its sales pitch.

【As long as you spend money, you help me level up. Once you’re linked to me, I’ll give you unlimited funds. However much you wanna burn, however you wanna burn it—boom, instant financial freedom.】

【After we’re bound, you don’t need to do anything else. Your only job is to spend money.】

【Oh, and sometimes I’ll toss out random missions with random rewards. You can take them or ignore them, totally up to you. No penalties at all.】

Hearing that, Serena Whitmore perked up on the spot. Wait—was this for real?!

"What kind of missions are we talking about?"

【Super easy stuff. Just move your hands or open your mouth and it's done.】

"Seriously?" Serena frowned, obviously not buying it.

【Of course. I never lie.】

【Also, I’ve got a system shop. You can buy literally anything, including the anti‑cancer meds you need most right now.】

"Anti‑cancer meds?"

Serena blinked. "What do you mean?"

【Host, the body you're in now has late‑stage stomach cancer. You only have a few months left, but it hasn’t been diagnosed yet.】

【So if you wanna live, you really should bind with me.】

Serena’s emotions tangled up in her chest. First she got flattened by a flowerpot, now she’d landed in a body that was about to die from cancer. What, was the universe trying to give her a death‑theme tour package?

"But… is your anti‑cancer medicine actually legit? No side effects?"

【Absolutely. My products are top‑tier. Any cancer, guaranteed cure, zero side effects.】

"Bind, bind, bind!"

Serena’s eyes lit up. Worst case, she’d die anyway—nothing much left to lose.

【Beep—binding in progress.】

【Binding complete.】

She blurted out without thinking, her voice full of urgency, "Little A, how do I buy the medicine?"

[One hundred points will do.]

"Points?" she echoed.

[When the host spends money, it helps me level up. For every one million yuan the host spends, I gain one point. And for every ten points I earn, I can return one point to the host.]

[Also, every time I level up, there’ll be a big system gift pack.]

Two words summed it all up: spend money.

If ten points got her one back, and she needed a hundred points, then the system needed a thousand points. Meaning… she’d need to burn through a billion.

Spend money? That was hardly a problem.

Serena Whitmore perked up instantly. "So where’s the money?"

[Coming right up.]

The moment the words dropped, something cool landed in her palm. A card.

It was pitch‑black, edged with delicate golden patterns, and in the center a golden dragon curled upward as if ready to soar.

Was this… the legendary black card?

[Correct. And it’s a custom version. It has no spending limit. As for where the funds come from, the host doesn’t need to worry. My funds are legally untraceable and carry zero legal risk. Use them as you please.]

Holy crap.

A pie really did fall straight from the sky.

Serena’s delayed excitement finally hit her. She rubbed her thumb over the card again and again, needing that little bit of solid texture to convince herself it was real.

After cleaning the grime off herself, she hummed a tune and stepped out of the bathroom.

Even when she spotted that troublesome chubby kid at the door, her good mood didn’t dip one bit.

"Hey! I want shrimp. Peel it for me."

The boy puffed up his cheeks, glaring at Serena Whitmore like she owed him the world.

Serena shot him a flat look, didn’t bother responding, and brushed past him to grab her stuff from the couch.

She was still soaking in the thrill of suddenly becoming stupid rich when her scalp tightened sharply—followed by a bolt of pain that made her vision flash.

The kid had somehow crept up behind her and yanked her hair back with all his strength.

"Are you deaf or something? I said I want shrimp, so peel it for me!"

What the hell?

He dared to pull her hair?

Was he tired of living?

A surge of fury shot straight to the top of her skull.

Serena spun around, grabbed the back of the boy’s collar, and hauled him forward with one strong jerk.

Smack!

Her hand connected with his cheek in a clean, loud slap.

"Ahhh! You damn psycho! How dare you hit me, you witch! I’m telling my mom to fire you!"

He clutched his face, eyes blazing with rage and disbelief.

Then he dropped to the floor with a dramatic thud and let out an ear–splitting wail.

A sharp throb pulsed at her temples, and suddenly a strand of unfamiliar memories rushed into her mind.

The original Serena Whitmore, twenty‑one, a senior at Plane City University. Parents gone. No car, no apartment. On top of that, several tens of thousands in debt.

Two months ago, she landed an internship at this tech company.

Hoping to get a full‑time offer, the original girl had been working herself to the bone.

Doing the hardest work every day for the smallest paycheck, and on top of that still being dragged into babysitting the supervisor’s kid—yeah, that was her life.

The boy in front of her was the classic spoiled type, the kind who’d been coddled into being completely out of control. He had every annoying trait a brat could possibly have. Ten years old, yet he wouldn’t eat unless someone spoon‑fed him, and if anything didn’t go his way, he’d cry, scream, and start throwing punches.

The original Serena Whitmore’s body even had several bruises from his little outbursts.

Staring at the pudgy kid rolling all over the floor like he was auditioning for a tantrum contest, Serena tightened her brow. She inhaled slowly, trying to press down the fire boiling in her chest.

"ding!"

"Task triggered: Comfort the little brother."

"Task description: A qualified big sister should let her little brother feel warmth. Please calm him patiently and make him feel happy and quiet."

"Task reward: One bottle of Gene Optimization Serum, one Koenigsegg One:1."

"Task failure: No punishment."

Gene Optimization Serum? What on earth was that?

"Gene Optimization Serum requires only a single dose to instantly bring the host’s figure and appearance to peak condition. To put it simply: it makes the host prettier, with a better body."

Serena’s eyes lit up. Now *that* sounded amazing.

She turned her gaze toward the chubby boy not far away.