Consciousness Containment Protocol

(Th-This----)

Xia Lin floated dumbfounded in the depths of his own consciousness.

On the "monitor" before him, like a gigantic IMAX screen, a performance by "himself" was playing.

On the screen, "Xia Lin," possessed by the demon lord, stood on the soft feather bed and laughed maniacally, striking wildly exaggerated poses.

"Do I really look that stupid when I laugh?" Xia Lin could not help asking as he watched his cackling self on the screen.

"Of course," Sera Talia said. She had taken on the appearance of a well-dressed elite female executive, wearing a black business suit and skirt, high heels, and black-rimmed glasses. Her hair was swept into an immaculate bun, and she held a tablet in one hand. "That's exactly how stupid you look when you laugh. I'm sick of seeing it."

She spoke in a tone so cold it was cutting, casually tapping at the air as though annotating a document.

"Look, from this angle, your mouth is open as wide as a hippo's. And this one—"

She pointed at another ridiculous pose "Xia Lin" had struck. "My god, you can actually put one hand on your hip and wiggle your butt? How did I never notice you had this kind of—talent?"

"Enough, enough!" Xia Lin's face darkened. "I'm not that exaggerated! Besides—"

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down.

"No, no, no. I still think what matters most is what's inside. Appearance and all that—those things are secondary."

"What's inside?" Seratalia pushed up her glasses.

"Mr. Xia Lin, according to the system's assessment, your current level of inner substance is roughly equivalent to a mouse that has just learned to steal cheese. And your current outward behavior—" She tapped the screen with a light pen. "—is a precise match for that assessment.