The neon glow from the billboards flickered at irregular intervals, cutting through the drizzle that slicked the asphalt. Amid the clamor of a city that never slept, I walked along the pavement toward my apartment. My legs felt weary, but this was more than just physical exhaustion after long rotational shifts. This was structural fatigue. A routine so deeply entrenched that every breath I took felt like a pre-scheduled operational timetable.
This world was too safe, too predictable. The movement patterns of the people around me, the shift change of the night guards in the building across the street, down to the precise moment the traffic lights would change color—everything was plainly legible. An endless cycle. Wake up, sort goods, monitor security, go home, stare at a screen, sleep.
"No unknown variables," I murmured under my breath, my exhalation forming a thin mist. I longed for an anomaly. A chessboard where I would be forced to use my brain at maximum capacity just to survive, rather than simply moving goods from point A to point B.
HOOOOONK!
A truck horn blared deafeningly. The overloaded vehicle sped past at approximately eighty kilometers per hour, slicing through a puddle on the left side of the road. My eyes rapidly calculated the trajectory of the filthy water catapulted into the air. I stepped back two paces just in time. The muddy water splashed onto the pavement exactly where I had been standing a second before.
"Driver fatigue, unbalanced load," I noted flatly, resuming my steps. This reality was far too boring.
Arriving at my apartment, I threw my wet coat onto the rack with precision. I dropped myself into the chair in front of the computer desk. The monitor lit up. I stared at the desktop, searching for something to divert my mind. My eyes landed on an icon. A game adaptation of a dark fantasy novel I had downloaded a few days ago to study its narrative structure.
"Let's see how efficient this game's worldbuilding system is," I muttered, clicking the mouse.
The screen faded to black, then displayed the character selection screen. The menu was dominated by "Hero" classes. However, my eyes immediately traced the data structure hierarchy and found the topmost row, locked behind a visual asset of a golden chain.
1. Sovereign of Null / Veyrith > Nullcrown
Status: [LOCKED – Level 100]
Role: Absolute Entity
Attributes: Void · Knowledge · Erasure
An absolute entity. Not merely a character. The text below warned that this option was systematically locked until the maximum level cap was reached. I scanned the list beneath it:
🌟 Starting Characters (Selectable)
1. Hero of the Light / Arelion > Luminary House (Status: AVAILABLE)
2. Hero of Fire / Eslara > Pyronveil (Status: AVAILABLE)
... (and several other elemental heroes)
⚠️ Secret Characters (Not displayed on the initial menu)
??? / ??? > ??? (Status: UNIDENTIFIED | Requirement: Destroy 3 World Endings)
Three world-ending routes. That meant there were three pre-programmed destruction scenarios. I moved the cursor, deciding to select Arelion merely to map out the initial narrative route.
Click. No response.
I pressed another option. Click, click. My mouse froze.
Suddenly, the game interface distorted. The blue and gold color scheme shattered, replaced by a dark crimson hue. A dialogue box appeared, executing text without any rendering delay.
[You do not have permission to play these significant characters. Reason: Too boring.]
The screen flickered wildly. Someone—or something—was hijacking my computer's system protocols.
1. Your wish for an anomaly has been received.
2. You desire a challenging game board.
3. Something that threatens sanity and demands absolute efficiency.
4. Synchronization commencing.
My heart beat slightly faster, yet my mind remained cold. The text had read my thought patterns. I immediately moved my hands to the keyboard, attempting to press Ctrl+Shift+Esc to forcibly terminate the background system processes. It didn't work.
Before I could cut the power supply to the CPU, the monitor emitted a burst of white light. Not just LED brightness, but a shockwave that literally slammed into my corneas. The sensation of gravity vanished. The space around me seemed to be forcibly dismantled and reassembled in milliseconds. My lungs contracted, failing to find an oxygen supply.
Then, my back hit something thick and plush.
I lay flat on my back. When I forced my eyes open, my apartment ceiling had been replaced by an ornately carved gothic roof with a dim crystal chandelier.
Before I could calculate my physical location, a wave of extreme pain tore through my body.
This was not mere pain. This was a systematic failure of bodily organs. It felt as though sulfuric acid had been injected directly into my bloodstream, destroying every nerve receptor simultaneously. My muscles convulsed without command.
"Cough—!"
My new body arched on the carpet. This torment threatened my sanity, but in the midst of an agony that nearly paralyzed my brain, my consciousness sharpened instead. This is not a dream. The pain possesses a causality structure far too detailed to be mere hallucination.
I forced the trembling muscles of my arms to prop up my body. I crawled forward, ignoring the cramps in my legs, toward a large mahogany table that had a silver mirror mounted above it. I had to scan my physical condition.
When my face was reflected in the mirror, my breath caught for a moment. A youth with pale skin, dark curly hair, and eyes that projected a familiar coldness. Beside the mirror lay a thick book titled The Silent Night.
Ack... cough!
My throat felt as if it were burning. I coughed violently, expelling a viscous fluid into the palm of my hand. My eyes narrowed. It was not red blood. The liquid was pitch black, resembling engine oil that absorbed the light around it.
"Circulatory system corrupted," I hissed, wiping the remnants of black blood with the back of my hand.
The next second, a holographic interface in crimson projected text into the air, dissecting my reality like a logistics warehouse inventory screen.
[SYSTEM SCREEN — SYNC LEVEL: STABLE]
» Soul Synchronization: HIGH
This character matches the user's observational tendencies.
[I. STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Veyr Noctis
Alias: "The Silent Villain"
Age: 15 years
Narrative Role: Villain (system confirmed)
[II. ATTRIBUTE STATUS]
Strength: D | Agility: A | Endurance: B+ | Intelligence: S | Perception: A | Willpower: E+
[SPECIAL TRAITS]
Emotional Suppression — Emotions are suppressed, preventing irrational decision-making.
System Awareness — Aware of notifications and system loopholes.
[ACTIVE SKILLS]
Black Veil (Cooldown: Medium) — Darkness area of effect. Enemy accuracy decreases.
[III. CURSE: BLACK BLOOD DECREE (BLACK REFLUX)]
Rank: Ancient · Permanent
Main Effect: Every skill activation causes vomiting of black blood + internal organ damage. Pain sensitivity +200%.
I read the information in total silence. My brain sorted the data rapidly. Veyr Noctis. The initial antagonist destined to die at the hands of the Empire's elites due to his own tactical carelessness in the original novel.
A thin, cold smile formed on my lips. This system had granted me Intelligence (S) and Perception (A) attributes, but crippled me with a curse that demanded an "operational cost" in the form of organ damage every time I used my skills.
The original Veyr died because he acted arrogantly without accounting for the upkeep cost of his own body. He positioned himself at the center of the board without protection.
"A poor position," I whispered to my reflection. "But not an unwinnable one."
I would not play as an antagonist who laughs arrogantly, nor would I become a saint begging for narrative forgiveness. If this world is a chessboard, and Veyr Noctis's body is my current position, then I will operate this piece with absolute efficiency. I will survive not through flashy, explosive magic, but through calculation.
Suddenly, a foreign pressure slammed into my brain.
ZRAAAASH!
External data—the original Veyr Noctis's memories—was forcibly crammed into my brain without any smooth synchronization process. Memories of the nobles' humiliations, the coldness of this mansion, and his family's hatred flooded my mental space.
This information load was too massive. My leg muscles lost their strength. I fell to my knees, my breath coming in ragged gasps as my nervous system tried to suppress this data transfer. My consciousness began to dim, my eyelids growing heavy.
Yet, just before my vision went completely dark, my well-trained ears caught an anomaly. There was no sound of footsteps. No creak of the wooden floor. There was only a micro-change in the airflow at the threshold of the door.
Through the slightly open gap of the door, I saw it. A pair of blue eyes, cold as crystal, watching me from the shadows of the corridor. The rhythm of their breathing was very faint, perfectly concealed. They were not looking at me with sympathy or fear, like an ordinary servant. They were observing me as one would observe a variable that had just changed.
Before I could identify them, the blue eyes vanished, and the door closed without triggering even the slightest sound.
A dangerous observer, I thought, before the darkness fully claimed my consciousness.