"She's still working overtime? How many days has it been now?" A woman with a coffee cup glanced toward the corner of the office.
"New here, huh? Never heard of her before? She's all-in for the money—literally doesn't care if she drops dead at her desk. She's kind of a legend around here."
Emily Harrison couldn't help but roll her eyes at the gossip happening behind her.
Ugh. These kids really had no clue.
Like seriously, what could possibly matter more than money?
If she hadn’t busted her ass every day, how else could she afford to buy her own place before hitting thirty?
Okay, yeah, it was an ancient run-down apartment, but hey—it was hers, paid for with every bit of her blood, sweat, and tears.
She took a big sip of her bubble tea, the sweet taste lighting up her whole mood like a dopamine hit. Her fingers flew across the keyboard with fresh energy.
In the huge office, the only sound was her typing echoing through the room—click clack, non-stop.
Hours flew by, and before she knew it, it was the dead of night.
Only one light was on in the entire office, making it look like a lonely lighthouse glowing faintly in a sea of darkness.
Right under that light? Emily, eyes locked on her screen, in full beast mode.
This was the third night in a row she pulled an all-nighter for the bidding proposal, and weirdly enough, she wasn’t even tired. Actually, she felt weirdly hyped.
It was like this strange buzz had taken over her whole body, starting from her brain and spreading everywhere.
Finally…
She stared at the completed files on her screen, let out a long exhale, and leaned back in her chair. The bubble tea in her hand was already ice-cold, but she took another sip anyway.
Suddenly, a flicker of panic hit her—her heart skipped, breath catching.
Emily frowned, took another sip, and that’s when the last tapioca pearl got stuck halfway down her throat.
With her chest tight and breath slipping away, it felt like someone had a death grip on her airway.
Eyes wide, mouth open, she gasped desperately.
And then—darkness.
As she collapsed, there was only one wild, random thought looping in her mind: "Wait... is this a heart failure or did I just choke to death on a pearl?"
At dawn, the office door creaked open. Seconds later, a terrified scream pierced the silence.
Soon enough, sirens, flashing lights, paramedics—chaos erupted.
Emily just stood there—well, floated there—and watched them carry her body away, dumbstruck. Or rather, ghost-struck.
So... ghosts are real, huh?
Within the day, "XXX Company Employee Collapses After Three Days of Overtime" hit the trending list.
Don’t ask how Emily knew about it— floating around as a spirit had its advantages. She saw the way her colleagues talked.
Some blamed the company, some said it was her own obsession with work that led to this. But not one person... really felt sorry for her.
Guess that’s what happens when you keep to yourself and only care about chasing money.Maybe it’s ‘cause she died here or something, but Ghost Emily was stuck roaming the same tiny corner of the office every day.
In just one week, she’d seen a bunch of people come and go—and, surprise surprise, even her leech-like parents showed up, those two she hadn’t seen in forever.
They weren’t great at raising her, and always acted like she was a burden when talking to others. And now? They had the nerve to barge into her old office and make a scene.
Though, to be fair, it wasn’t that dramatic. Emily had always been a hard worker, studied non-stop, and landed a job at a top-tier company through sheer grit.
You think a company like that is short on cash?
A random sum slipped through their fingers was enough for those bloodsuckers to bounce out grinning ear to ear, not even sparing a glance at her stuff.
Ugh. Pathetic.
Emily wasn’t angry, just... disappointed. Next up on their scavenger list? The old, rundown apartment she'd slogged day and night to afford.
Knowing them, they'd probably offload it in no time—for their precious son’s wedding or whatever.
Because, in the end, that’s all she was good for as a daughter, wasn’t she?
Money was her everything. And in the end? Ha, what a freaking joke.
She’d have been better off living life on her own terms instead of chasing a paycheck like a lunatic.
Then, outta nowhere, this deep, soul-twisting pain hit her. It hurt. Like, way worse than that sudden death thing.
She figured, okay, maybe this is it—reincarnation time?
If she got another shot at life, she’d...
“Wanna live again?” a chirpy voice rang crystal clear in her ear.
Emily’s eyes jolted open. Her mouth twitched. Who the hell disturbs a ghost trying to reincarnate?
Seriously—rude much?
Maybe it thought she didn’t hear—‘cause the voice repeated, “Wanna live again?”
“Nope,” Emily snapped back without even thinking.
Please, after all that? She was this close to spinning the reincarnation roulette—maybe she'd hit the jackpot and land a cushy second life.
Why roll the dice again? For another round of overnighters and burnout?
“No thanks.”
“…”
Silence. Guess the voice had no comeback.
Just as she closed her eyes again, mentally begging for a rich, cozy next life, that same voice tossed out something snarky.
“Hate to break it to you, but our system analysis says you’re only eligible to come back as a pig. Yeah—100% confirmed. Real oink oink deal, and short lifespan to boot.”
Emily’s eyes shot open in horror, panic practically glowing from her see-through ghost face.
“A pig?” she whispered, totally freaked.
“You serious? Don’t mess with ghosts like that.”
“Heh. Our system never scams the dead.”
Silence.
Honestly, Emily was half-considering gambling for that one-in-a-million surname-to-yacht miracle life. But this? This was way too risky.
A pig?! Girl had seen pigs getting butchered when she was a kid—and that’s not an experience someone forgets.That gut-wrenching pig squeal still echoed in her head.
“What kind of system are you?” Emily Harrison shivered as the disturbing image flashed through her mind.
The mysterious voice immediately perked up.
【I’m the God-Tier Tycoon System, ever heard of it?】
Ghost-Emily politely shook her head.
【Wow, seriously? Living under a rock much? Haven’t you read any novels before? You don’t even know about the God-Tier Tycoon System?】
“Too broke, okay? I didn’t have spare time to read. Time is money, ever heard of that?” Ghost-Emily fired back confidently.
The system fell silent. Honestly, it was starting to question if the main god had picked the wrong person.
So, the self-proclaimed Tycoon System went on to explain everything to its new host for over half an hour before finally wrapping up.
【Got it now?】
It sounded pretty smug about it too. Well, can’t blame it—after all, systems from the main god’s faction were always in high demand.
Emily moved her blurry silhouette thoughtfully. “Okay… and?”
【Ahem! Congrats! Lucky you! You’ve caught the attention of yours truly! Now you’ve got two paths in front of you.】
【Option one: I let you start over, born into a super rich family with a massive inheritance. Option two: you get reincarnated as a pig. Make your choice.】
Emily twitched her lips. Come on, any sane person—scratch that, any sane ghost—would obviously pick the first one.
But deep down, she never believed in freebies falling from the sky. A deal that sounds too good? Yeah, it usually is.
So of course…
“I’ll take the second one.” Might as well gamble big and hope for the best.
What if this system was just messing with her?
【...】
【What is wrong with you?! How many times do I have to tell you—the pig thing is real! You'll literally be a pig!】
Seeing that Emily wasn’t taking the bait, the system freaked out and just deleted the second option altogether, throwing all pretense out the window.
【Fine. Truth is, you’ve already been bound to me—no reincarnation for you. Your only shot now is to finish a hidden mission in a sub-world within a year. If you fail? Poof! Soul gone for good.】
Emily went quiet. Yep, she knew it. This whole thing was a trap.
So basically, she didn’t even have a say?
【Exactly. But don’t stress, I picked a great fate for you. Money won’t be an issue! Let’s go, host!】
With the system’s shout, a glowing black vortex suddenly appeared in front of her.
Even as a ghost, she could feel the intense suction and pressure coming from it, like some kind of black hole ready to rip anything apart—probably strong enough to shred even the King of Hell.
Emily instinctively scooted back a bit, still trying to wriggle out of it at the last minute.
Too bad—someone straight-up kicked her from behind, and she got booted into the dark abyss.
“!!!”
“********”
What followed was a long, heartfelt, and highly censored stream of ghostly curses.
