Morning sunlight spilled unapologetically through the open window, landing with pinpoint precision on my face. It felt like a targeted attack a personal betrayal by the universe itself. I groaned loudly, burying myself beneath the thick layers of blankets in a last-ditch effort to defy reality.
[Good morning, sunshine,] the system sang cheerfully, its voice disgustingly chipper. [Are you ready for another thrilling day of magical misadventures and poorly disguised existential dread?]
"Your optimism makes me nauseous," I grumbled into the pillow, eyes resolutely closed.
[You're welcome, darling,] the system replied, far too smugly for my liking. [But sadly, you have responsibilities. And apparently, breakfast. Even tyrants-in-training have to eat.]
