Leo sat back, his hands behind his head. "This is the life," he muttered, watching his character stand perfectly still while a whirlwind of activity generated millions of coins around him.
Leo felt a chill. The "OP" power felt less like a shortcut and more like a spotlight. He tried to toggle the script off, but the menu wouldn't respond. His character was no longer his own; it was a puppet to the code, stuck in a loop of infinite serving. MY RESTAURANT OP AUTOFARM SCRIPT
The restaurant, once a place of steady rhythm, turned into a blur of supernatural efficiency. The waiters didn't walk; they teleported. Plates of "Shrimp Scampi" appeared on tables before the customers even sat down. The money counter at the top of Leo’s screen began to spin so fast the digits became a white smear. Leo sat back, his hands behind his head
