I slammed my headset onto the desk so hard I swore the mic actually squealed in pain—like it had feelings and just took a personal hit.
The plastic cracked against the wood, a sharp, brittle punctuation to another long night of defeat. My room—dim, stale with the lingering scent of cheap energy drinks and the kind of frustration that clings to the air—felt smaller than ever. The faint glow of the monitor washed my clenched fists in a ghostly, unnatural blue, like I was already halfway into some digital afterlife.
Another arena match, another humiliating loss to some guy whose wallet was clearly more dangerous than his skill set.
My teeth ground together hard enough I could hear the faint crunch, the victory screen taunting me with its obnoxiously animated winner's avatar—a gaudy, gem-studded monstrosity. The kind of thing only someone who'd never earned a damn thing in their life would feel the need to parade around.
"Congrats, Prince$layer420," I muttered under my breath, glaring at the screen like it might flinch. "You just paid rent for the developers."
The words tasted bitter as they left my mouth, but the silence afterward somehow tasted worse. All I got in return was the low, monotonous hum of my PC fan—like the world's tiniest violin, slowly sawing out a dirge for my dignity.
My cursor hovered over the logout button—then the screen flickered.
Not the usual, slightly laggy stutter. No, this was different. This was… wrong. A cold prickle ran slow and deliberate down my spine. The pixels on the screen twisted, warping in a way that made my eyes ache, like watching oil spread across water. For a split second I thought my GPU had finally decided to give up and ascend to silicon heaven.
The arena melted away, colors bleeding into each other until the screen was nothing but a swirling storm of neon. A giant [LOADING…] bar filled my vision.
The light wasn't normal—it stabbed into my retinas, searing them with something unnatural, something that felt almost hungry. My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't a crash. This was something alive.
> [Initializing Experimental Immersion Update…]
[Warning: User consent not detected.]
"Uh—no thanks? Hello?" My voice sounded too small, too human in that moment. I reached for my mouse out of pure habit, but my fingers passed straight through it like smoke. Panic bloomed hot and sharp in my chest.
The loading bar crawled to 100%.
And then—the world snapped.
My chair? Gone. My desk? Gone. I was suddenly knee-deep in grass beneath a sky that looked like it had been ripped straight from the most over-produced fantasy RPG loading screen imaginable.
The air was too crisp, too sweet—like biting into an apple that didn't even exist yesterday. My sneakers sank into soil that felt far too real for pixels. The horizon stretched forever, crowned with purple mountains beneath a sun that shone a gold so intense it almost hurt to look at.
This isn't a game.
Then the voice hit.
> [Ding! Welcome, Player.]
[Congratulations on being selected for the "Survive For My Amusement" program.]
It wasn't just a voice—it was smirking.
I could feel it curling lazily around my thoughts like a cat with a mouse it had no intention of killing anytime soon.
"Who… are you?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, shaky and raw. The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was waiting.
> [Your new System. Your chaos coordinator. Your loving tormentor.]
"Great. My own personal customer service rep from hell."
The joke barely made it past my lips before dying somewhere in my head. My pulse thundered in my ears. This wasn't support—this was a predator.
"Why am I here?"
> [Because you rage quit. And because I was bored.]
The answer dripped with casual cruelty, like a knife sliding between my ribs without effort.
Before I could spit out a retort, a new window flared into view:
> [Quest: Make a Princess Laugh Until She Snorts]
Reward: Royal Authority (Passive Skill)
Failure: Public execution for insulting royalty]
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The words landed flat in my mouth. This wasn't a quest. It was a death sentence dressed up as a punchline.
The world tilted hard. The grass beneath me vanished, replaced by rough cobblestones that scraped at my palms. The air shifted too—roses, sharp and sweet, tangled with the metallic tang of polished armor.
I was in a royal garden.
Hedges, tall and perfectly trimmed, rose around me like emerald walls. Bees droned lazily in the heavy stillness, their sound almost unnervingly loud in the quiet.
And ten feet away sat a princess.
White silk draped her in a gown so flawless it almost glowed in the sunlight. Her hair—long, smooth, and flowing—spilled over her shoulders like a river of gold. The light caught silver threads woven into her dress, making her shimmer faintly. But it was her eyes that caught me—sharp, restless, dangerous.
She looked bored to death.
Around her stood armored guards who looked like they'd been raised exclusively on bricks and raw intimidation. One of them twitched toward the hilt of his sword.
The System purred in my head:
> [Tick-tock, Player. Ten minutes before failure penalty activates.]
I wish I could say I had a plan.
What I actually had was panic, a faint memory of some terrible stand-up jokes, and the uncanny ability to trip over absolutely nothing.
Which I promptly did.
The world lurched. My foot caught—on what, I'll never know—and I pitched forward, straight into the ornamental fountain.
The water hit me like a slap, cold and merciless.
The splash was biblical. It came down in sheets, soaking the pristine cobblestones around me.
The guards froze, hands still half-drawn to their weapons.
The princess covered her mouth, eyes wide in surprise.
A beat of silence. Then—
She snorted. Loud.
> [Ding! Quest Complete. Skill Unlocked: Royal Authority.]
[Side Effect: First Harem Flag Triggered.]
I didn't even have time to process what "First Harem Flag" meant before the princess rose from her seat, stepped toward me with deliberate grace, and knelt down. Her presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore.
She leaned close, her breath warm against my ear.
"You're interesting," she whispered. "I think I'll keep you."
Her smile was dangerous.
Oh no.