The third day after returning from Italy.

Progress bars once again coldly filled the entire screen.

The Art Lead stared for a few seconds before slumping onto the table.

“…I can’t anymore…”

She turned her face to the side, her voice muffled against the tabletop.

“Just a few days ago I was still eating gelato…”

“And walking through streets that felt like a movie…”

The Screenwriter gripped his mouse, his eyes equally lifeless.

“I told you coming back would only make you even more desperate to quit…”

The Director slowly spun the pen in his hand.

“At times like this…”

”If only reality were like a power-fantasy story.”

The Manager, who had been scrolling on his tablet, lifted his gaze.

“The kind with a system? Where you suddenly rise to the top of life?”

The Art Lead finally lifted her face from the table.

“What do you mean a system!”

“I want to be the system!”

“I just think it, and the props make themselves!”

The Screenwriter’s interest was instantly piqued.

“This is great!”

“And then I open my eyes, and the script has already written itself!”

The Agent looked at the tablet in their hands.

“If I just tap ‘confirm’, the actors would just show up on set…”

The Director chimed in.

“Then for me, I’d just snap my fingers.”

“And turn all of your work directly into the final product?”

The Art Lead couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Hahaha~”

“Just thinking about it makes me so happy.”

The Screenwriter laughed along.

“No wonder power-fantasy stories have such a huge market…”

“This is literally every corporate drone’s dream!”

The Director watched the group grow increasingly serious as they talked, but didn’t stop them.

“Anyway, no one really has the mind to work right now.”

“Why not turn this into a break activity?”

The Manager raised an eyebrow.

“Relying on imagination to make up for the dopamine we’re not getting from work?”

The Screenwriter quickly pulled his laptop back in front of him.

“I think this works!”

“I’ll document it.”

“When we’re tired, we just push the plot forward.”

The Art Lead was already fully engaged.

“This is actually so fun!”

“So what’s our main storyline?”

The Director thought for a moment.

“Hm…”

“If we’re turning this into a proper system…”

“We lead a useless author to the peak of life?”

The Screenwriter listened and pressed his lips together.

“Wouldn’t it be a bit too monotonous if it’s just us?”

“Don’t system novels usually have some kind of overpowered item?”

The Manager glanced at the small white flower placed on the table.

“Maybe Lil’ Pink can handle the item function?”

“For example… something like a built-in luck attribute.”

The Art Lead immediately clapped her hands.

“That works!”

“Luck is part of skill anyway!”

The Screenwriter’s typing suddenly sped up noticeably.

“Then what’s still missing is the starting point.”

“The reason we appear.”

The Manager lightly rested his knuckles against his chin.

“If we go with the useless-author background…”

“The protagonist crying in the middle of the night because no one reads their work?”

The Art Lead hugged a cushion and nodded frantically.

“Yeah, yeah!”

“And then we just suddenly appear!”

The Screenwriter nodded along.

“Oh—”

“Classic hero-saves-the-damsel opening.”

“Works.”

He typed a few lines, then suddenly paused.

“So what platform does the protagonist update on?”

The Art Lead answered without thinking.

“Just use the current ones, I guess?”

“Like Penana or something.”

“Anyway, it’s just our imagination.”

The Director, however, slightly furrowed his brows.

“Hm… maybe we should change the name.”

“Otherwise, what if we say it wrong in a meeting someday?”

The Art Lead blinked.

“…Yeah, true.”

For a moment, no one responded.

The Screenwriter suddenly looked up.

“How about calling it papaya?”

“They’re all fruits, and it has that repeating sound.”

The Manager softly repeated the name under his breath.

“Papaya…”

“I think it fits perfectly.”

The Art Lead tossed the cushion aside.

“Alright, let’s get started!”

“Day one of meeting the useless author!”

Seeing her suddenly regain energy, the Screenwriter’s mouth twitched.

“…Weren’t you just about to die a second ago?”

The Art Lead answered matter-of-factly.

“Escaping work is also a form of rest.”

The Screenwriter opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“…Forget it.”

“Let’s start.”

And so—

what had originally been just a break activity to escape work,

On a late night of overtime.

quietly turned into the beginning of a new story.