My Host Only Marries the Strong Chapter 4: A Matchmaking Mishap

Seraphine stared at in stunned silence.

“Let get this straight,” she said slowly, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You want to avoid Xue Bufan by… finding so random guy to marry off to?”

“Functionally speaking, yes.” My chanical voice maintained its usual calm efficiency.

I continued my analysis with clinical precision. “The goal is to get married and have children before the male lead goes on his power rampage. Based on my experience with standard Gary Stu narratives, not a single side character who breaks off an engagent with the protagonist manages to marry and reproduce within a year.”

Honestly, this solution seed remarkably resource-efficient. I wouldn’t even need to provide many golden fingers—just locate a suitable marriage candidate! Though I had to admit, wrapping up the mission this quickly felt sowhat anticlimactic.

I flickered, my silver light casting brief shadows as I observed Seraphine’s devastatingly beautiful face.

But after my brilliant suggestion, my host had gone completely silent. Question marks practically materialized above my data core.

Was this proposal also inadequate?

Seraphine’s sleeves whipped dramatically as she spun around, transforming into a streak of light that vanished from the mountaintop.

Wait. What?

I hovered in bewildered circles around the now-empty peak. Just before my proximity warnings could trigger, I zipped after her, finally tracking her down in a palace corridor where she was striding with obvious irritation.

I caught up, trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

“Excuse , what seems to be the issue?” I asked with genuine curiosity, eager to learn from my host’s wisdom.

Seraphine’s laugh was cold enough to freeze fire.

Night had fallen without notice. Palace lanterns flickered to life along both sides of the corridor, creating serpentine trails of light through the halls. The pearl-light illuminated Seraphine’s figure, and the phoenix embroidery on her flowing sleeves seed to co alive in the shifting shadows—their eyes as sharp and furious as their wearer’s current expression.

I followed her all the way to what appeared to be her private chambers. The room was even more luxurious than the outer halls, every surface gleaming with precious materials and exquisite craftsmanship. Strangely, I noticed no servants anywhere. Seraphine collapsed onto her bed platform, propping her chin on her hand as she fixed with an icy glare.

What had I done wrong?

I spun in place, checking my reflection in a nearby ornate vase. Still the sa old —no alarming color changes or anything.

“Echo,” Seraphine said, crooking one finger at . “Co here.”

I drifted over and settled onto her fingertip.

Seraphine paused for a mont, raising an eyebrow as she found herself actually supporting this weightless, temperature-less, practically non-existent ball of light. But she didn’t comnt, simply cradling the light that was .

“Since you claim this world is a book,” she began, “and that Xue Bufan and I are rely characters in it, and you speak of this ‘Gary Stu plot’ while telling to change my fate—then why won’t you tell what the original story actually was? How exactly was I supposed to—”

Her face darkened as she ground out the words through clenched teeth: “How exactly did I fall in love with Xue Bufan?”

If she knew these details, there would be no need for confusion. She could simply choose the opposite of whatever the plot demanded.

“That’s my fault,” I replied with characteristic directness.

“The higher a system’s level, the more vague and limited the initial mission information becos. After my most recent upgrade, I’m now the highest-ranking system with the most privileges under the Main System, which ans I receive even less detailed plot information. But please don’t worry, host—as long as you cooperate, I’ll gather relevant story details during our mission and combine them with my past experience to provide you with optimal task solutions.”

I added earnestly, “Your choices are my choices, your mission is my mission. I will dedicate everything to help you succeed!”

Even after my explanation, Seraphine’s frown remained firmly in place. She wasn’t about to trust so mysterious entity of unknown origins so easily.

“What’s in it for you?” she asked.

The benefits were nurous, of course. When systems arrive and alter character fates, it generates massive amounts of energy. This energy fuels the entire system world, and every system that completes missions earns points—the currency of our realm and the power source for upgrades.

My high level ant difficult missions, but correspondingly, successful completion would yield the maximum possible points!

After my explanation, Seraphine nodded with understanding. If I had claid to have no benefits and was purely altruistic, she would never have believed . But profit-driven motives made my words far more credible.

“I see,” she said, leaning forward with renewed interest. “So who is this Main System?”

I was delighted by her proactive questioning—in my understanding, such behavior enhanced mutual trust levels.

“The Main System is the most respected entity among all systems!” I replied enthusiastically. “It constructed all our operational rules, and every system works within its frawork. It is an absolutely outstanding, perfect, and powerful being!”

A bubble appeared above my form, containing a glowing golden thumbs-up.

Seraphine stared at the display. “…What is that supposed to be?”

After a brief pause, she continued, “I can see you hold it in high regard. Good—I appreciate loyalty.”

The thumbs-up in my bubble imdiately transford into ^.^

Seraphine’s smile shifted, and her tone took a sharp turn. “Since you like the Main System so much, do you love it?”

My expression bubble vanished instantly.

“Why would I love the Main System?” I asked in genuine bewildernt.

“Why wouldn’t you? According to you, isn’t this system incredibly capable, perfect, and powerful in your mind?” Seraphine pressed.

“All systems respect the Main System, but that’s not the sa as human concepts of love or affection. We don’t possess those emotions.” As I spoke, sothing flickered through my data streams—a brief disturbance that disappeared before I could analyze it.

I continued, “Systems are composed of data. We can understand human emotions but cannot experience them. You might think of systems and humans as the difference between numbers and words—words can express joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, but numbers will always just be numbers.”

Since this world used different writing systems, I projected the letters of my na in glowing script above my form for demonstration.

“Echo—that’s my designation, equivalent to what you would call a na,” I explained. “E-C-H-O,” I added, displaying each letter above my form since this world used different writing systems.

Seraphine studied the floating letters with interest. “So that’s how your na appears in written form,” she mused, rising and cradling as she moved to her study, where she began preparing ink and brush.

“Since you’ve shown how to write your na, perhaps I should practice it properly,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of sothing more deliberate. “After all, nas have power.”

“If that’s what you wish,” I replied without hesitation.

Seraphine paused, seemingly surprised by my imdiate agreent. Her expression grew more serious as she contemplated, then began writing with confident strokes.

She wrote “Echo” in elegant script across the rice paper, the foreign letters flowing beautifully under her skilled hand.

“There,” she said with satisfaction. “Now your na exists in this world’s writing as well. A bridge between our realms.”

I pulled up my mission world profile, taking a snapshot of my current form and scanning Seraphine’s handwritten version of my na into the designation field.

Echo.

I stared at my na rendered in her graceful calligraphy as bubbles ford and dissolved above .

“Echo…” she continued, studying the letters she’d written. “A na that speaks of voices returning, of sounds that linger. It suits a fem—” She suddenly stopped mid-sentence, asking hesitantly, “Speaking of which, are you female?”

My chanical voice was indeed rather ambiguous regarding gender.

Floating above the paper, I considered this carefully before responding, “I will be from now on.”

Seraphine raised an eyebrow. While she still harbored doubts about , she was quite satisfied with my compliant attitude. Regardless of my ultimate motives, this obedient and understanding behavior pleased her greatly. Plus, there was now the bond of her having acknowledged my na.

“Then I shall continue calling you Echo,” she said warmly. “You weren’t female before?”

I answered honestly, “I have no gender, like written words—humans don’t typically assign gender to text.”

Seraphine fell silent for a mont.

She turned away from her brush, scooping up as she returned to her bed, speaking as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Now you have a human na and human gender, so perhaps you should try human emotions as well. Why don’t you go ahead and fall in love with the Main System?”

The conversation had circled back to the earlier topic.

“Why are you so insistent that I should love the Main System?” I asked, both shocked and confused.

Seraphine’s smile was ice-cold. “Is there so problem with that?”

“Wasn’t it you who wanted to quickly find soone to fall in love with, marry, and have children?”

I spun in circles above her palm before settling and asking, “Is loving the Main System the sa concept as you loving so other person?”

Systems lack emotional capabilities, but humans are born with rich emotional capacity! Plus, human dictionaries even contain concepts like “love at first sight.”

Seraphine stared at , deliberately using an accusatory tone: “You want to marry and have children with a complete stranger when I have no feelings or emotional attachnt? What exactly are your intentions? Do you think I’m so casual person?”

I had no heart.

In the literal sense.

The heartless system hovered above Seraphine’s palm, understanding that my host had been trying to make this point all along. Human linguistic techniques were truly profound and required constant study.

Seraphine looked sowhat smug, her naturally upturned eyes growing even more pronounced.

Beside the bed stood a lamp shaped like a phoenix, its body inlaid with gems, agates, eralds, and cat’s eye stones. The phoenix held a luminous pearl in its beak, casting brilliant light that made the sculptured bird seem alive with flowing radiance. The sa light fell across Seraphine, making her eyes shine brighter than any gemstone—a vision of ethereal beauty that could steal anyone’s breath.

In that shifting, dappled light, it was impossible to say which was more captivating.

Seraphine gazed at with that half-smile, clearly enjoying my speechless state—though admittedly, it was difficult to detect a mouth on a ball of light.

“Well?” she pressed. “Do you acknowledge your mistake?”

My non-physical heart triggered error warnings. For a system to be told it contained errors was like the sky falling in the human world! My silver glow flickered erratically, but under Seraphine’s startled gaze, I managed to say calmly, “Host has stated she will not marry and have children with strangers.”

Seraphine nodded.

I pulled up my interface panel and displayed a recorded scene.

The image showed Seraphine and Siyi sitting opposite each other in a mountain pavilion, with Seraphine wearing an expression of disgust. A speech bubble contained her words: “Having only t Xue Bufan twice, what possible feelings could there be?”

Seraphine: “…”

She definitely rembered saying that. She just hadn’t expected to record it.

I held up the image, using my emotionless chanical voice to speak slowly: “Host and Xue Bufan have only t twice and share no feelings, yet you still agreed to the engagent. If Xue Bufan’s spiritual roots hadn’t been destroyed, wouldn’t you have proceeded with the marriage?”

I deliberately emphasized the phrase “no feelings,” which sounded particularly harsh to Seraphine’s ears.

Seraphine: “…”

She bolted upright, protesting indignantly, “That was arranged by my elders, not my choice!”

I understood perfectly.

Ti for so helpful advice.

“Host, which of your elders are still living? Perhaps we could ask them to arrange another match! After all, you have previous experience with failed engagents, so this ti will surely succeed!”

Colorful celebration lights appeared above as I encouraged her: “I’m cheering you on!”

Despite the cheerful rainbow display, Seraphine’s face had turned remarkably dark. My host, whom I’d known for such a short ti, raised her hand and hurled toward the window with considerable force.

“Get out of here right now!”