“Your Highness.”
“Your Highness, it’s time to wake up.”
Who?
Who’s speaking?
Leo’s consciousness was doing chaotic sit-ups amid a haze.
An old, unfamiliar voice drifted to his ears.
Wasn’t he in his own single rental room?
Could it be the landlord?
No, the landlady’s voice could probably break through three floors; this wasn’t so… polite.
Intruder?
What a joke!
That thought made him shiver all over, and he snapped his eyes open.
Before him was not the familiar, time-worn yellowed ceiling.
Instead, it was a luxurious canopy embroidered with intricate golden threads.
The air carried a faint scent, rich and expensive.
Like the kind of woody incense used in upscale clubs.
He was lying on a single bed comparable in size to a double.
The blanket covering him was silk—slippery, unbelievably smooth to the touch.
By the bedside stood an old man in a tailcoat, his hair slicked shiny. He bowed slightly, his face full of concern.
That face was deeply lined, but his eyes were bright—the perfect image of a butler.
Leo blinked, and his brain instantly blue-screened.
Damn, I thought I was being robbed.
Turns out, I transmigrated.
Well…
Good, right?
Good my ass!
Where the hell am I?
His last memory was the company mercifully giving him a day off.
He’d been holed up in his rental, grinding hard on a game called The Realm of Divine Authority.
Grinding for two days and nights straight, his eyelids heavier than lead, he ended up face-planting on the keyboard and passing out.
And now, here he was.
“Could it be… I’m dead?”
He muttered.
No way, sir.
Just two days and nights of overtime, plus a nap on the table.
And I died of sudden cardiac arrest?
…Well, maybe.
As a proud 996 worker, his body was long drained of blessings.
A rare holiday spent gaming to death.
If not me, then who?
Forget it, I’m here now.
“I’m fine.”
Leo waved his hand at the butler.
The moment he spoke, he was stunned himself.
His voice was a bit hoarse but young, with a casual laziness even he didn’t recognize.
This tone, he liked it a lot.
He threw back the silky covers and planted his feet on a soft, thick carpet.
The feeling underfoot was nice—his feet sank in about half a finger’s depth.
But a sharp wave of weakness swept through his body, like pulling three all-nighters in a row.
The butler moved to help him up, but Leo stopped him with a look.
He needed to assess the situation himself.
At the far end of the room stood a huge floor-to-ceiling mirror.
Its frame was dark gold, carved with indecipherable runes.
Step by step, Leo walked toward it, each footfall as soft as cotton, unreal.
The figure in the mirror grew clearer.
A head of dazzling blonde hair, messy like a bird’s nest.
A flawless handsome face, pale as paper, lips lacking any color.
Definitely a sickly beautiful youth.
His figure was slender but skinny as a stick, wearing a loose silk robe that hung emptily on his frame.
“Not bad.”
Leo reached out and touched his own face, the real sensation sending chills down his spine.
This face—if it were in his previous life, he’d debut as an idol right here, and his fans would stretch all the way to France.
Wait.
Something’s wrong.
This face, this hair color…
Hiss.
Leo’s pupils shrank sharply as if struck by lightning.
This wasn’t just any character—it was the ultimate tragic villain from the game The Realm of Divine Authority he’d been grinding last night!
Leo Viandell.
The Kingdom’s Fourth Prince.
The name exploded in his mind with a boom, accompanied by a long list of character details and plot summaries.
As a hardcore player who loved digging into lore, he knew this character far better than casual players who just saw him as a mid-game boss.
Leo Viandell in the game was defined by the word tragic.
Tragic to the extreme.
He was born with an extraordinary summoning talent, one in ten thousand, basically gifted by the heavens.
But this talent became his curse.
His three elder brothers, all vying for the lousy throne, teamed up and sabotaged him.
A specially made magical potion did its dirty work—didn’t harm his body but completely locked his talent, maxing out the debuffs.
How locked?
So locked that when placed before the highest-grade magical crystal, even if he touched it, the crystal wouldn’t light up.
Thus, the genius prince became a “zero talent” useless royal overnight.
The royal family’s disgrace, a walking joke.
That wasn’t all.
One month before the magic academy’s new semester, a summons came.
He was “exiled” to a barren borderland of the kingdom.
A godforsaken place with nothing but a vast monster-infested forest nearby—dangerous and desolate.
Just days after arriving, the second letter arrived from the capital.
Simple and blunt: removed from the royal lineage, the worthless land was his, and never to contact the family again.
The original’s ending in the game was grim: his territory was razed during a massive monster invasion.
In despair and hatred, he fully blackened out, breaking through the talent lock with overwhelming negative emotions.
The cost was a corrupted soul, successfully reborn as a necromancer.
Then came the classic revenge arc.
He gathered an army of undead, stormed back to the capital with death knights and a skeletal horde, burning down half the city.
Finally, he was defeated by the player-controlled protagonist—a surprise mid-game boss—after a fierce battle.
As a reward, players unlocked a brand-new necromancer skill tree.
Unbelievably cool.
Leo remembered the game forums flooded with cries from “Waifu factions” and “Save-the-Prince factions.”
Many tried using the game’s high freedom to find the unlucky prince early on and save him.
All failed.
The storyline was forced—what players call “plot kill.”
Even if players located the borderland, once the main story progressed, logging out and back in would always find the territory a ruin, and the prince gone.
The next time you saw Leo Viandell, he was a necromancer lord riding a bone dragon, leading undead legions to siege.
Though the game’s writers deserved some blame, since this character had little impact on the main plot, his revenge didn’t kill any important NPCs, and the necromancer skill tree was so enticing…
Most players grumbled a bit but begrudgingly accepted it.
But now, he’d become this doomed, destined-to-be-defeated exp experience!
Damn it!
What now?
Leo pinched his arm hard.
The clear pain snapped him fully awake.
This was no game.
He really was Leo Viandell.
He didn’t want to become a necromancer exuding black mist, nor did he want some random “hero” stabbing him through the heart!
…Although, to be fair, necromancer was pretty cool.
Playing one wouldn’t be the worst idea.
But first, he had to survive.
And survive comfortably, happily.
In his past life, he was an orphan, grinding through exams and work, only to become a wage slave.
Now, even if he was a tragic villain, this was at least the game world he loved!
Since he was here, he wasn’t just going to survive—he was going to fully experience the customs and culture of this other world!
Leo took a deep breath and forced himself calm.
Calm down, don’t panic, don’t post on social media first… ugh!
He looked around.
This bedroom screamed luxury—oil paintings on the walls, plush carpet underfoot, the scent of incense in the air, all screaming “I’m rich as hell.”
The butler still stood respectfully nearby.
All signs pointed to…
He was still inside the royal palace!
He hadn’t been exiled to that cursed borderland yet!
The story hadn’t started!
Yes!
Leo’s eyes lit up instantly, like two 200-watt bulbs.
As long as he hadn’t been kicked out, there was still hope!
He was a hardcore player; he understood the summoning magic system of this world!
A kind of convenient magic anyone could use once learned—like breathing—no complicated contracts needed.
If he could find a way to unlock his talent lock, he’d soar!
Who’d dare call him trash then?
Who’d dare exile him to the borderlands as cannon fodder?
He might even…
Just as Leo’s thoughts galloped ahead, already devising a hundred ways to rewrite his fate,
“Knock knock knock.”
A soft knock came at the bedroom door.
The butler walked over, cracked the door open, and whispered a few words with the person outside.
Then he turned back, his expression slightly awkward, bowing to Leo: “Your Highness, the Royal Messenger from His Majesty the King has arrived.”
Royal Messenger?
Leo’s heart skipped a beat.
A bad premonition swept over him like a thundercloud.
A man clad in standard royal light armor, with a face so serious it looked like everyone owed him two million, entered.
He didn’t even glance at Leo, simply performed a formal salute.
“By order of His Majesty the King,”
The messenger’s voice was cold and emotionless, echoing in the spacious bedroom.
“Prince Leo Viandell, Fourth Prince of the Kingdom, is to report immediately to the Council Hall. There is an important matter to be conveyed in person.”
Important matter.
Conveyed in person.
Leo’s head buzzed.
The tiny flame of hope he’d just kindled was instantly doused by a bucket of Siberian ice water from head to toe.
Chilling to the bone.
He knew too well what this so-called “important matter” at this moment meant.
He was dead.