My older sister is a villainous rich girl.

Chris was working hard towards her grand plan, while Wayne began to focus on dealing with the troublesome dog at home.

Everything else at school can be put aside for now, but this dog is the only thing that can instantly destroy my life.

Perhaps it's because of its irresistible cuteness, but Mr. Pokran is now completely enamored with it.

When Wayne returned that day, he saw Mr. Pokran, whose expression could be described as devout.

The white puppy sat on the long bench, looking straight ahead with an arrogant expression.

The playwright was hunched over his desk, sketching something, glancing up at it every now and then.

"Mr. Pokran."

Wayne spoke up.

"Shh!" Pokran put his index finger to his lips, signaling him not to disrupt the creative atmosphere.

Wayne approached silently, stood beside Pokran's desk, and glanced at the papers on the table.

It has very rough lines, two dead fish eyes like big light bulbs, but it is posing in an unusually seductive pose. Only its long muzzle and tail can barely be identified as a dog.

Wayne remained silent, quietly waiting for him to finish this masterpiece.

Pokran put down his pen and let out a long sigh.

"...Sir, your painting skills are truly abstract," Wayne commented.

Perhaps in later generations, he could be considered a pioneering master who set a precedent.

"The only painting-related knowledge I have is from drawing patterns for the tapestries my family made when I was young." Pokran didn't mind the little boy's reserved words and held up this masterpiece to show him.

"Do you think this kind of image will really be liked by the public?" he asked.

Wien thought for a moment and said, "Popular tastes change constantly in every era and period. Works that people don't like now may be sought after by everyone hundreds of years later."

"You're right." Pokran put down his painting. "Indeed, many artists only have their work appreciated long after they've passed away."

"However, regardless, I think Miss Chris's idea about the hero dog is a bit... far too far-fetched." He shook his head. "That's not something that can be called drama, just like this painting of mine."

Xiao Bai jumped down from the bar stool, then used other chairs to leap onto the desk, its agility almost like that of a cat.

It looked at its own portrait, showed a disgusted expression, and let out a "woof".

"What is the meaning of performance?" Wayne laughed.

"—It's for entertaining the masses."

Upon hearing this, Pokran looked surprised.

"Why would you think that? Acting is an art of self-expression."

This is a definition he has come up with himself over the years: all his works and his theater performances are born from the ideas he wants to express.

Unlike the classical school, which used performance as a tool to please the gods, praise heroes, and incidentally seek personal gain.

He thought his ideas were already considered outrageous in this world, but he never expected that the young master of the Duke's mansion would be even more radical than him.

"Perhaps some people, as you said, uphold the idea of ​​self-expression. But in the end, those works that are loved by the public will survive."

Wayne said, "Mr. Pokland, you are no exception."

He walked over, held the white dog down, and tucked it into his arms.

"You've become famous because your works are loved and enjoyed by the people!"

"Commoners hate nobles, so they cheer for the ugliness of the nobles you depict; commoners hate the church, so they cheer for the greed of the church you depict. And what is the living space for superhero dogs? It is precisely the injustices, big and small, in life."

"It punishes evil and promotes good, it is indomitable, it comes from a star in the sky, specially sent to save the world—doesn't this seemingly absurd story clearly contain the expectations of the people?"

Wayne's words grew more and more forceful, and Pokran found them surprisingly reasonable.

But doesn't something seem a little off?

After fooling Pokran, and taking advantage of his thoughtful expression, Wayne quickly picked up the little white dog and left. The dog had been with Pokran for so long; it was about time it went back to its kennel.

Little White didn't resist and was silently carried back to his room by Wayne.

Yes, its room is Wayne's room, and the flower basket quietly placed in the corner is its warm doghouse.

"Give me a bigger room," Xiaobai suddenly said.

"What exactly are you trying to do?" Wayne asked seriously, ignoring its request.

"It's hard for people to believe you if you're not honest."

It was silent for a moment. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"That Witch's Night? Do you think I look like someone who's easy to fool?"

Wayne threw it on the ground and sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at it.

No sooner had he sat down than the little white paw hopped onto the bed.

"Damn it, you're always running around like a madman, your paws are filthy, don't step on my bed!" Wayne snapped.

"Didn't you just hug me? You don't even shower before bed?!"

"..."

Shrimp and pork heart.

"People in this world take showers in the morning," Wayne felt he needed to explain.

"Hmph." The white dog remained noncommittal.

It paused for a moment, as if organizing its thoughts.

"The 'Witch's Night' I mentioned earlier was just to make it easier for you to understand. Basically, it's something like that, and if it's not stopped, the disasters in this world will only increase... until the story completely collapses."

"So, are you like a cheat system? Responsible for issuing tasks and giving rewards, and so on?" Wayne asked.

"Well, just take it that way." The white dog lay down and licked its leg.

"Then why not ask Chris?" Wayne said. "For magical girls and such, cute girls seem more qualified, right? Besides, she has the protagonist's aura."

The white dog's tone turned serious: "Precisely because she's the protagonist, we can't let her know these things. Otherwise, the story will fall apart right now."

"So it hasn't collapsed yet!" Wayne exclaimed in surprise.

"Of course not! Chris is still following the main storyline. As long as this pace continues, the story will be completed smoothly."

"Hmm... So, your identity also can't be exposed to Chris, is that right?" Wayne keenly grabbed its little tail.

"...Woof! Woof woof woof woof—"

Enraged, it began to speak incoherently and lunged at him, baring its teeth.

"Heh, if you dare bite me, I'll expose your identity tomorrow. At worst, we'll both self-destruct. Anyway, I've already made a fortune in this life, so I have nothing to lose."

Wayne was emboldened.