'When did I make a move to become someone famous? Someone respected, feared, and well-known across the entire world?'
I find myself sitting with legs crossed in a regal, velvet-backed chair. Before me, a sea of people honors me as if I were a god, their arms raised, chanting my name like a gospel of the damned. Beautiful women surround my throne, their gazes heavy with adoration, while I simply wave a hand in a royal greeting. I can see my citizens—my loyalists—trembling with the sheer honor of witnessing a simple gesture.
But I can't recall the moment I became their leader. I just wanted to be a businessman. Who the fuck are these people wearing black armbands with red stars? Is this what it feels like to be a dictator? I just wanted a normal life... how did I end up in this chaotic, dictatorial nightmare? Why am I the main character? That dong of the bell is too loud, and that stick is far too long. I just wanted to be a background character! This is fucking wrong!
December 31, Present Year
11:44:25 PM
Fireworks exploded in a frantic array of colors, painting the night sky above Tokyo Tower and illuminating the thousands of revelers celebrating New Year's Eve below. Women in vibrant yukatas gossiped and laughed, their faces bright with the thrill of the display. But Aljen Mura was the exception.
A brown-skinned man sitting in a dark corner of Tokyo Park, Aljen wasn't laughing. He was sulking. He watched the fireworks through a veil of tears, a bottle of cheap beer clutched in his hand. Every time a shell burst in the sky, he took a bitter sip and spat out a string of foul words. He sat on his carpet beneath the cherry blossoms, the only person in this secluded patch of grass, listening to the distant joy of couples on the bridge and loners on the riverbank.
He had finished nearly a dozen beers, yet the crying wouldn't stop.
"Why? Why do I have to suffer like this?" he asked the empty air. "I did everything to exceed their expectations this year. But they chose her—that beautiful, annoying, sexy, stupid junior of mine. I stayed for ten years on a pittance, and she's only been there for two. Why?"
He gulped the rest of his beer and hurled the can into a nearby bin. "Fuwii... what a beautiful scenery to end a career. I saved them from bankruptcy and this is how they pay me? Screw them! I resign! I'm going back to my homeland. Fuck you, assholes!"
He cracked open another beer, his eyes a river of salt. "But I still love you! I love you, damn company! I always loved you so much!" He wiped his face aggressively. "I became a successful manager of that fucking gaming industry. Is it because I'm not compatible? Am I just some 'native' who got lucky? I waited for this promotion, and they gave it to someone else."
He pointed a shaking finger at the distant corporate building, his fist clenched. "I gave you my life to save your ass! Why didn't you reward me?"
His phone rang, jolting him. "Hello? Who is it?" his voice was a ragged whisper.
"Mr. Mura, where are you? The chief wants to celebrate with you," his secretary's voice chirped.
Aljen gave a cold, hollow laugh. "I'm celebrating. Fuwii... I'm going to celebrate the New Year alone."
"What? Sir, the boss wants you at the Akihabara Branch right away. Madam is searching for you."
"Are you celebrating the promotion of the new Chief and those other bastards? Fuwii," he spat, glaring at the office lights in the distance.
"Well, yeah, sir. So please come to—"
Aljen hurled the phone away before she could finish. "Screw that! I don't want to be part of that bitch's party! I quit! They used a poor-hearted person like me as a tool for their conquest!"
Suddenly, the phone flew back through the air as if pulled by an invisible string. Aljen caught it instinctively, his eyes bulging. "What the fuck? It returned!"
The phone rang again. Secretary. He hung up. "Screw you, bitches! Fuck off!"
A third call. It was his junior—the newly appointed Chief. He hung up again. "I said fuck off! Don't you dare call me!"
Broken-hearted, he turned his gaze to the stars. "God, I don't want to live in this world anymore. Send me away. Send me to the game world I made when I first started. I don't want to be an employee; I want to be a billionaire. I want to lead a million workers. I want to be great. If your miracles are real, give me one!"
The phone rang a final time. He went to throw it again, but stopped. The caller ID read: Unknown.
"What's this? Unknown?"
He hesitated. His finger hovered over the green button. It could be his secretary using a different line, or his junior mocking him. He clicked his tongue, his reluctance warring with a strange curiosity.
"Whatever. I should just answer it," he muttered. He pressed the phone to his left ear. "Hello? Who's this?"
"Good evening and Happy New Year," a voice replied—smooth, deep, and unidentifiable. "Is this Mr. Mura? The gaming manager of Koalajima Co.? The man who handled Metal Tear and the Godmother series... the most anticipated games of the year?"
Aljen's face went pale, his staggering heartbeat echoing in his ears. "Who might this be? How do you know my name?"
"Are you interested in becoming a boss?"
The question hung in the air, vibrating with a strange, magnetic pull. Aljen felt a flicker of interest, though it was buried under a thick layer of exhaustion and alcoholic haze. He thought of the headhunters from rival firms or the consultants who scoured the industry for disgruntled talent.
"What? Boss?" he echoed, recalling the rumors of promotions available in other rival companies and assuming the caller was a consultant. "Yes, I'm interested."
"Are you familiar with the last game you hosted, Mr. Mura?"
"You mean Mafioso? Of course, I was the one who led the project," he said, punching his chest once with dignity.
"Fufu~, well, I have something to ask you then. This is important so you must answer it properly."
"Oooh, what is it then? I'm very knowledgeable about the action-fantasy and sci-fi series like Divine Fantasy, Metal Tear and other notable games. Listen, I've been a gaming manager for almost ten years. I have experienced a lot of working habits such as working overnight and led a lot of people to make our games successful. So, don't be shy and tell it to me right now, Mister. I'm hyped."
"Fufu~, well then. Are you sure?"
"Of course, I am."
"Haha, well then. Mr. Mura, because you asked for my miracle... I will give you a miracle."
Aljen snorted, a bubble of beer-fueled laughter escaping him. "What? Haha, you're joking. Who are you? The God—"
"—God. No other than the person you ask for your wish from."
"Hahahaha!" Aljen covered his face with his left hand. "Hahahaha! Shut it, will ya? Why would 'God' call me in the middle of the night? Listen, buddy, don't screw with me." He hung up the phone and then suddenly, the phone rang again. When the word 'Unknown' changed to GOD, he felt creeped out. He then turned off the cellphone and put it inside his pocket; however, the phone kept ringing. He then decided to throw his cell phone away for the second time.
He let out a sigh of relief when he didn't hear the call again. Afterward, the fireworks flew in the sky. Aljen Mura looked at the sky and smiled.
"Thank goodness, Happy New Year!" He jumped a lot as the fireworks continued to explode above the sky. His happy face turned to gloom and he felt creeped out when he saw the fireworks.
"I'm the real God. Your wish is my command, Mr. Mura. Be a good boy in your world. Muwa!" The unknown voice gave him a flying kiss after it cast some spell around his body.
"Guaaaaaa!" The world spun and he screamed while darkness engulfed him.
[WELCOME TO MAFIOSO!]
The year extremely changed from the present to the past, the year 1811 A.D.
January 1, 1811 A.D.
07:30:00 AM
Aljen Mura opened his eyes, rubbed them, and looked around, his upper body raised. In the left corner of the room was a 16th-century telescope, a world map hanging by the white-painted walls, several piles of old books and other artifacts lay scattered in his room.
"Gah, my head. Where am I?" he asked.
He got out of his bed and wore the slippers laying on the floor. He walked toward the cabinet and noticed something odd. He found a young boy in the mirror, around fifteen years of age. Scarlet eyes glared back at him, dark hair flailing in all directions and a bow-tie strangling his neck. Aljen Mura recognized the face of the young boy.
"What the heck?" He gently rubbed his cheeks. Why was he one of the villains in the RPG action game Mafioso? The most daring and active antagonist of the story, the tyrannical coward who died from a suicide charge to kill the main characters. Was he inside the game, playing a demo of an upcoming VR title? But the body, the skin, and the resonance of his voice felt too real.
He staggered to the massive window and threw open the heavy shutters, squinting against the harsh morning sun. The sight was intoxicatingly desolate. The Archnemesis mansion stood in solitary defiance atop a jagged, limestone cliff that dropped hundreds of feet into the churning white foam of the sea. There was no sign of civilization—only the endless, sapphire horizon of the Mediterranean and the biting wind that howled against the stone walls.
Directly below the cliff's edge, the field surrounding the isolated estate was a chaotic sea of dry, golden grass and thousands of wild scarlet poppies. They swayed and snapped in the gale, looking like a carpet of fresh blood spilled over the earth. In the distance, the rugged Sicilian mountains rose like a wall of gray bone, separating this lonely fortress from the rest of the world. He was the king of a lonely rock, a tyrant of the void.
He looked back at the reflection of the boy with the murderous red eyes, realizing that the "Update" had officially begun.
"Out of all the people you could choose, why him? Why Hermes Archnemesis, Stump G?"