Until Dusk Protocol - Chapter 21: Kazami’s Diary

Hurt. Bullied. Ignored. Boris decided to end his life in the most pathetic, cowardly way imaginable.But of course—how could even death go right for him?Fate, it seems, had other plans.Boris wakes up in another world, reborn as Kaden Warborn—the second young master of the Warborn family. A clan of glorious madmen who treat death like a family tradition.And wouldn’t you know it—death comes knocking again.[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened the Cycle of Rebirth System.][Core Principle: Die to grow stronger.][So go on, Host. Don’t be shy.][Court death.]…Excuse me?Armed with a system that rewards dying, surrounded by maniacs who treat funerals like festivals, Kaden Warborn begins his new life.Hopefully, this time, not like a coward.

With unmatched talent, but a fate sealed by a terminal illness, Jeong Yeon-Shin challenges his destined death for a chance to live.Set in a realm where elves and dwarves coexist with martial artists, this is the story of Jeong Yeon-shin, a genius fighting to extend his life against all odds.

“Mr. Zhang, it is said that you often make zombies work overtime without pay, is that true?” Zhang Ye, enraged, snatched the microphone that was pushed to his mouth and said righteously: “Who said that?” “I’ll sue them for defamation!” “Someone’s defaming me, you know!” As he spoke, he turned and grabbed a zombie, “Did I force you?” The zombie, silent, just went “Ugh ahhhh—” Zhang Ye immediately said, “See! He said no!” The next morning, the headlines of the Sanjiang Apocalypse Morning Post read: Zhang’s Group Chairman, Zhang Ye, not only admitted to making zombies work overtime, but he also abused a zombie in front of reporters, truly a man without conscience! Our newspaper expresses strong disdain for such a person! This book is also called “Who Let You Bring Zombies into the Factory”

My name is Yan, and since I was a child, I’ve been able to see some strange things.For example—In elementary school, our new neighbor Aunt Tan had a pair of all-around genius twins, who were like the “precious little geniuses” with halos above their heads. They could recite the English-Chinese dictionary backwards at three, master both Chinese and Western musical instruments by five, and hack into a country’s database by seven…Growing up next to such prodigies, my life was inhumane, tragic, and constantly subjected to comparisons.To escape the comparisons with these “other people’s children,” I specifically applied to a private boarding school for middle school.On my first day, my deskmate was a small, thin girl with bangs, wearing an old uniform, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.Three months later, she woke up from a nap with a “rebirth” halo above her head.She moved effortlessly among the cold academic genius, the wolf-like school bully, the fierce boss, and the gentle childhood friend, leaving me, a lonely onlooker, utterly amazed.By university, I thought I had finally escaped this abnormal world.But as soon as I stepped into my dorm room, my footsteps froze.My roommates each had halos like “ancient times to modern,” “post-apocalyptic superhuman,” “will die if not spending money,” and “ghost king revival.”I clutched my little blanket and applied to the counselor for a room change, but to no avail.Over time, I gradually got used to it. “Handover systems,” “management systems,” “book transmigration,” “infinite worlds,” “three-and-a-half-year-olds,” “interstellar live streams,” “red envelope groups”…The types of halos kept increasing, and I was able to calmly ignore all of it, focusing on my own life.Every morning, I skillfully helped my “ancient to modern” roommate, who was being blacklisted online, dodge campus paparazzi and secure seats for class.At noon, I assisted my tycoon roommate in distributing today’s haul of luxury skincare and designer bags, tasting the city’s top private chef’s custom lunchbox, and exclaiming with emotion, “Darling, can I really accept these?”In the evening, I enjoyed the flowers and plants cultivated by my superhuman roommate on the balcony, tasting a mutated cherry tomato and commenting, “I feel refreshed and purified.”Late at night, when my ghost king roommate quietly climbed back through the window, I peeked out to ask, “You’re back a bit late today, didn’t bring anything back, did you?”My name is Yan, and I am not the protagonist of this world.