Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World - Chapter 150

After my appointment with Ms. Kawabuchi, I returned to class with a deep sense of dread welling in my chest.

Because…

What I’d found inside that box was—

“Ichihara-san,” a girl said, approaching my desk with her friend. “What’s the matter? Normally you seem all cool and collected, but right now you look troubled.”

“I’m fine,” I snap back—lying through my teeth—as I’m anxiously hunched over my desk with my fingers clawing at the smooth corners, an angry look and sweat pouring down the sides of my face. No doubt, looking like a total mess.

But how could I not react so extremely?

There’s lines of data scrolling across my vision, as if my body is running a backdoor computer code; compromised,by a hacker, who is now slowly taking control of all my senses.

What happens if something goes wrong?

Indeed, what happens to a machine if there’s a fatal glitch in its code?

I shouldn’t have gone through with this…

I still had the instructional booklet with me, so I quickly dug it out of my pocket as those two girls were still hovering nearby, exchanging confused glances. They can gawk all they want, as far as I’m concerned, since I was already an irredeemable freak in their eyes, anyway.

So, then, I unfolded the instructional booklet…remembering my initial surprise when I first saw the name of this “experimental drug,” printed at the top, in all-bold black letters:

“The Rape System?!” I had blurted, dropping the booklet from my hand in shock. “What the—”

“Ohohoho,” Ms. Kawabuchi chuckled, rising up, striding cooly toward me. “Aren’t you a bookworm, dear? If you look again, and read more carefully, you’ll see it actually reads as ‘Rap System.’”

Groaning, and whilst feeling somewhat reluctant, I did as she said…

“The Rap System,” I read again—correctly, this time—as I carefully adjusted my glasses, before reading on: “A computerized neural interface UI that records the subject’s progression through Deep Karma’s patented, award-winning Bust-a-Rap Therapeutic Self-actualization Course.”

As I read on, the booklet went on to explain that the system gives the user daily [Missions] to acquire [Street Cred], through performing [Rap Disses] and [Rap Battles]…whatever THAT is supposed to mean.

Rap…? What is ‘rap?’

Is it referring to THAT foul music genre?!

I opened the carved box, and inside of it there was a single blue pill.

My brain…couldn’t make sense of it.

“A pill?” I questioned, holding it up to my face and squinting at it in disbelief. “How is it a pill, when the booklet is talking about a kind of computer technology…?”

“The technology is contained within that pill, in the form of nanomachines.”

“So I’m supposed to…swallow it?”

“Where else would you put it? Since it’s not the other type of pill.”

Gross, I thought.

All of this was just too strange…

“What about my parents? Shouldn’t they have to sign off on something like this, first?”

Ms. Kawabuchi nodded. “They have already been notified, and given the proper papers to sign. Don’t worry, Ichihara-san, I wouldn’t give you a drug to take if I wasn’t 100% certain of its safety.”

Somehow, I didn’t believe her. So I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still wary…

“What if I refuse to take it?”

“Well,” Ms. Kawabuchi frowned, “I’ve spoken with your parents and the principal about that. The decision we reached was that you should undergo this treatment; and that if, still, no major change was observed in your behavior…”

Her sunglasses drooped, revealing an ominous gaze.

“We would have you repeat the year.”

“N-no way!” I pleaded, “you can’t be serious!”

“Like I said before, I would never joke about such matters. I have deemed your antisocial tendencies to be SO extreme, that such measures are necessary. To release you into the workforce in your current state would almost certainly prove disastrous.”

“But my grades are good!” I protested. “I don’t get into trouble, and my attendance is perfect!”

“You’ve also not made a single friend since the start of high school, don’t attend any extracurricular activities, have no hobbies aside from reading, and no long-term career aspirations.”

“I’m going to become a writer!”

“Oh, yeah? Then why won’t you ever show me any of your work?”

“That’s because…I’m working on it, still.”

I could sense her sad eyes looking at me through her sunglasses. “It isn’t very realistic, Ichihara-san, and you’re running out of time before you’ll be forced to start making some very big, very adult decisions.”

“I know that…” I grumbled as I looked away, hiding my tears, though my voice was still cracking. “You think I don’t know?”

“I know you know, Ichihara-san,” she said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re an amazingly smart girl, but smarts aren’t everything. There’s a lot of ways you can improve yourself, before you’re ready to face the real world.”

“The real world, huh…” I muttered beneath my breath, sulking like a child. (How embarrassing!) “Then I guess all of this, right now, is just bullshit.”

“Take the pill, Ichihara-san. I know it seems unfair, but try to trust us.”

…

Class has started, and I’m still not feeling any better.

‘Try to trust us,’ she told me…

Heh, that’s funny. Because by trusting her, I’m now suffering; seeing numbers and scrolling text floating across my vision, like I’ve just entered into the Matrix…

Really, what was I expecting to happen?

I try to focus ahead, on the teacher, as she’s giving a History lecture…but—

[Rap System Initiated. Let’s GOOOOOO!]

What the shit?

From out of the distorted digital mist, a message had appeared.

Followed by another:

[New Mission! “Make a Name for Yourself!”]

Uhh…

A dialog prompt, like what you would normally see in an application running on a computer, then appeared—large, and completely blocking the center of my vision—impossible to ignore.

Does it want me to type? With what…?!

“Ichihara-san,” the teacher addressed me suddenly, causing me to gasp. “You’re looking a little pale. Do you need to use the restroom?”

A few of my classmates laughed.

“Y-yessir,” I stammered in reply, feeling hot all over with humiliation.

Luckily the bathroom was empty when I arrived there, in a hurry, as I immediately threw myself over one of the sinks to splash water onto my face. Really, I just needed to calm down and gather my bearings; to really see what this system thing was all about.

I had brought the instructions with me, to carefully look through them. So, I was reaching for them in my pocket, when suddenly…

“Yo, yo, babygirl. Wassup?”

Ah…

Just now, I heard…

A man’s voice, inside the girl’s bathroom?

I raised my head from the sink, making a tiny shriek when I glanced in the mirror to see a man standing behind me in the reflection!

To describe him…well…

He looked like a total creep: wearing a hoodie decorated in ahegao faces—an ahegao sweater, of all things!—and baggy pants; spiky, blonde-dyed hair and a stubble beard. A stack of golden chains draped around his neck, and rings on almost every finger.

He was noticeably tall and of lean build, looking older than a high school student for sure…which begged the question:

“What are you doing here?!” I asked; having been so startled by his presence, that I had crawled up on top of the sink counter, pulling up my legs, cowering against the mirror. Imagining myself—during yet another embarrassing episode in the same day—like a ditsy housewife in one of those old American cartoons who had just seen a mouse, hiking up the nearest chair and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Yo!” this…let’s say, “flamboyant” man said to me in greeting, giving a playful salute with a bright smile stretched across his warmly summer-tanned face—like he was one breath away from trying to sell me some fresh-caught fish.

…not that I would ever buy anything from a sleazeball who shows up in girls’ bathrooms!

“Eek! Pervert! Get the Hell away!”

“Pervert?” he questioned, with a look of genuine confusion. “Nooo, chick! You must be mistakin’ me for someone else, ‘cuz I ain’t here to peep—I’m here to teach!”

“Teach…?” I asked, lowering my guard a little. “What the shit are you on about?”

He points a finger at me. “I’m in your brain, little dove: an element of the digital, manifested; made physical. A helper when you’re in need, as you embark on achieving your rap dream.”

“You’re saying…”—my eyes widened—” you only exist as a computer program, inside my head?”

“Bingo!” he exclaimed, laughing, casually tucking both his hands into his front sweater pocket.. “See, was that so hard to understand after all? The name is MC Facks., and I exist to answer your Frequently Asked Questions!”

“G-great,” I said, deciding it would be ideal for me to trust what he has to say…for now.

I lowered myself from the counter, walking up to where he stood. Then, extending my hand forward, I watched in awe as it passed…through him—as if nothing was standing there at all.

With my fear now subsided…

I was intrigued, more than anything.

As well as, not to mention…

More than sick of the constant surprises.