Kairos Flame's alarm died the same way his bank account did—silently.
He rolled off a thin mattress in a one–room apartment that smelled like instant noodles and broken promises, shoved on a hoodie two sizes too big, and checked his phone.
Balance: -₦1,240.
Missed Calls: Boss (3), Landlord (2), "Babe ❤️" (0).
"Romance really is a luxury item," he snorted, splashing water on his face from a bucket. "Good thing I'm rich in personality."
By day, he delivered packages for a courier company that treated humans like disposable batteries. By night, he min–maxed dating sims and RPGs, speed–running choices like life would ever give him dialogue options.
At noon he was called upstairs.
Mr. Kane, regional manager, had a smile that looked stapled on. His office smelled like expensive cologne and cheap lies.
"Kairos," he said, sliding a folder across the desk. "We've found… irregularities. Missing parcels. Signatures under your ID."
Kairos flipped the pages. They were perfect. Too perfect.
"You forged this," he said lightly. "I wish I had this penmanship."
Kane's smile didn't move. "Return the stock or repay the losses. Or face charges."
When Kairos left, the corridor lights flickered. He called the only person he still believed in—Jordan, his "brother," friend since secondary school.
"Meet me tonight," Kairos said. "I need advice."
"Always," Jordan laughed. "Same spot, 8 p.m."
At 7:30 p.m., Kairos stood outside a small restaurant with two plastic takeout bowls and an apology speech he'd practiced three times. When Mira arrived, she wore a new dress he hadn't bought and a perfume he couldn't afford.
"We need a break," she said, eyes already somewhere else.
"Is it because I'm broke or because I'm me?" he asked, trying to make it a joke.
"It's because you're always almost there," she said. "Almost promoted. Almost stable. Almost honest."
Her phone lit up. The name on the screen stabbed harder than any knife: Jordan.
By 8 p.m., the old footbridge over the drainage canal felt colder than usual. Neon bled across wet concrete. Jordan leaned on the railing in a leather jacket Kairos recognized—from a package that had gone "missing" last month.
"Tell me I'm wrong," Kairos said.
"You're unlucky," Jordan said. "That's different."
Two shadows peeled away from the dark—men in hoodies and work boots. One flicked open a knife like it was a habit. Jordan's tone stayed casual.
"Boss says you sign the confession, return what you 'took,' and stop asking questions."
Kairos looked at the knife, then at the friend he'd once shared bread with. He laughed—because it was that or cry.
"You took my girl, my job, and now my future? You could have left me the noodles."
The first lunge was clumsy. Kairos dodged, shoved, sprinted—right shoe slipping on rain–slick stone. The second man caught him in the ribs. Pain bloomed bright and wet.
"Funny thing," Kairos gasped, backing against the rail, "I always thought if I died early, it'd be because I tripped on my own pride."
Jordan sighed like he was tired of the weather. "You should've learned your place."
The knife slid in under his ribs. Cold. Precise. The world tilted; neon became stars.
Kairos slid to his knees, palms slick with his own blood. Breath came thin and wheezing. Above him the city hummed, indifferent.
If there's another life… give me power. Give me desire. Give me the chance to make them all look up at me, he thought. Just once.
Darkness folded over him like a blanket.
> \[Wish acknowledged.]
> \[Initializing transfer…]
---
He woke drowning in air.
Kairos lurched upright into candlelight and mountain–cold air that tasted clean and sharp. A wooden ceiling. Paper walls. The hiss of wind through pine.
He grabbed at his chest—no wound. His hands—slender, callused in unfamiliar places. Long hair tickled his shoulders. A thin robe hung loose on a lean body etched with faint, luminous lines that pulsed like sleeping fire.
"Okay," he whispered, heartbeat pounding in his ears. "Either this is the world's most generous hospital… or—"
The pain hit like a hammer. Memories not his poured in: "Azure Sect''. Spirit veins. Qi rivers like ribbons of light winding through mountains. A boy named Kairos Flame—same name, different life—ranked dead last, mocked daily, used as a practice dummy.
He saw himself—no, the other him—on his knees in a courtyard, bleeding from the lip while disciples laughed. He felt the hunger, the cold, the small, angry promise: One day, I'll make you all choke on your laughter.
The pain ebbed. He lay panting, staring at the rough beams above.
"…Reincarnation," he said, and then, because the universe apparently enjoyed comedy, a blue panel blinked into existence above his palm.
> \[Binding complete.]
> \[Welcome, Host: Kairos Flame.]
> \[You have awakened the Lustful System.]
He blinked. "The what system?"
> \[Rule One: Survive by conquering women of destiny.]
> \[Rule Two: Desire fuels power; conquest unlocks techniques.]
> \[Rule Three: Failure to complete missions results in death.]
Kairos stared at the glowing text until it stubbornly refused to be a joke. Then he laughed—hoarse, disbelieving, a little wild.
"You're telling me my cheat code is… lust?"
> \[First Mission Generated.]
> \[Target: The Ice Princess of Azure Sect.]
> \[Objective: Raise her Affection to 'Intrigued' within 7 days.]
> \[Reward: Frost Qi Absorption (Passive).]
> \[Failure: Death.]
> \[Countdown: 7 days, 00:00:00 → 6 days, 23:59:59…]
A gust rattled the shutters. Outside, distant shouts rolled across stone courtyards. He pushed the door open.
The world hit him all at once: tiered pavilions clinging to cliff faces, waterfalls of light that weren't water, cranes gliding through mist. Disciples sparred in concentric rings, blades singing. Far above, a single figure in white crossed a bridge of ice—hair like moonlight, steps so light the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Even from this distance, her presence pressed against his skin like winter.
Kairos swallowed. "That's the target? Sure. Why not. Second life, same difficulty setting: Hell."
> \[Tip: Hesitation triggers penalties.]
"Noted." He flexed his fingers. They trembled—but not only from fear. Under his skin, something hungry stirred, answering the word "desire" like a wolf hearing its name.
He squared his shoulders, the shadow of a grin cutting across his face.
"Alright then, System. You want shameless? You reincarnated the right man."
He stepped out into the cold.