The first thing Elian realized was that his knees hurt. The second thing he realized was that he was staring directly at a crotch.
A very impressive, very royal, very... distracting crotch.
'Oh, come on,' Elian thought, blinking his vision clear. 'Really? The universe drops me into a new world, and the spawn point is 'face-level with a bulge'? I spent twenty-four years perfecting the art of "Looking Respectfully at Foreheads." Do not break the streak now.'
The last thing he remembered was choking on a cheap convenience store hot dog while scrolling through a webnovel app. He had clicked on a book titled The Prince's Cold Heart purely because the cover art was hot. He hadn't even made it past the synopsis before the hot dog took him out.
Now, he was kneeling on a plush velvet rug, holding a pair of black leather boots, trying desperately not to drool over a stranger.
A blue holographic screen flickered into existence right in front of the crotch.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE.][Welcome to 'The Imperial Heart' Battle Royale.][Identity: Player 3 - Elian.][Role: Crown Prince's Personal Valet (Omega).]
Elian's brain short-circuited. 'Player 3? Valet? Omega?'
He looked up. And up. And up.
Attached to the crotch was a man who looked like he had been sculpted by a god with a very specific kink for danger. Broad shoulders, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and eyes the color of a frozen lake. He was currently shirtless.
'Oh, sweet mother of gym memberships,' Elian panicked. 'Look at those pecs. They can't be real. They have to be CGI. Don't stare at the nipples, Elian. Be cool. Be a bro. Just a couple of guys hanging out. Nothing weird about admiring the structural integrity of another man's chest.'
Then, a strange, warm flutter kicked him in the stomach. A heat—unmistakable and humiliating—pooled right between his legs.
'Why am I wet?' Elian thought, horrified. 'This body is a slut. I'm trapped in a slutty body.'
The man looked down at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated boredom. "Valet. Are you going to put my boots on, or are you praying to them?"
His voice was deep, rough, and vibrated straight through the floorboards. It hit Elian's eardrums and went straight to his groin.
'Oh no. The voice. It's a daddy voice. Keep it together, Elian. Think about baseball. Think about taxes.'
Elian opened his mouth to say something normal, but the blue screen flashed red.
[CURRENT STATUS: CRITICAL][Heart Meter: 0 / 1000][Life Points (LP): 0][Time Until Death: 71 Hours, 59 Minutes, 45 Seconds.]
'Excuse me?'
Elian stared at the countdown. It was ticking down aggressively. 44... 43... 42...
He quickly scanned the rest of the text. As a veteran reader of trashy system novels, he knew exactly what he was looking at.
[MISSION: Capture the Prince's Heart.][MECHANIC: Physical Contact Recharges Lifespan.][CURRENCY: Earn LP via Quests to use in System Shop.]
'Okay, standard pay-to-win mechanics,' Elian analyzed rapidly. 'Health bar is tied to intimacy. Currency is grindable. But the difficulty setting...'
[Time Until Death: 71 Hours, 59 Minutes, 30 Seconds.]
'Hardcore mode. Nice.'
"Fuck," Elian whispered.
"What did you say?" Cassian's eyes narrowed.
Elian snapped into survival mode. He didn't know this Prince's backstory—he should have read the first chapter instead of just looking at the tags—but he knew gamer logic. Red timers meant bad things. He needed to touch the battery pack standing in front of him.
'Touch the hot guy or die,' Elian thought, a hysterical giggle bubbling in his chest. 'Best. Game. Ever. Wait, no. Survival. Focus on survival.'
"I said... luck," Elian improvised, scrambling to his feet. He felt lightheaded, his new body soft and unnervingly sensitive. "It is my luck to serve you, Your Highness."
He grabbed a white silk shirt from the bed. His hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from the sudden, overwhelming urge to rub his face against the Prince's abs.
"Arms up, please," Elian said, his voice cracking. 'Smooth. Real smooth.'
Cassian sighed, a sound of long-suffering annoyance, and raised his arms.
Elian moved in. He didn't just step forward; he practically threw himself into Cassian's personal space. As he slid the silk over Cassian's arms, he made sure his knuckles grazed the Prince's biceps.
Ding.[Contact: +2 Minutes.]
'Two minutes?!' Elian mentally screamed. 'Are you kidding me? That barely covers the intro credits! I need hours! I need days!'
He needed more surface area. He needed to be a human backpack.
"Your Highness," Elian murmured, stepping behind him to button the shirt. "You're very... tense today."
He didn't button the shirt. Instead, he flattened his palms against Cassian's bare back.
'Oh, wow,' Elian thought, his brain turning to mush. 'That is firm.'
He slid his hands down the ridges of the Prince's spine. The skin was hot to the touch. The scent of pine, ozone, and aggressive Alpha pheromones hit Elian like a physical blow. It smelled like danger. It smelled like sex.
'Don't sniff him. Don't sniff him. Don't— ' Elian inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling back slightly. 'Goddammit. I'm weak. I'm so weak.'
Ding. Ding. Ding.[Continuous Contact: +15 Minutes.]
'Keep going,' the little devil on his shoulder whispered. 'Grab his ass. Do it for the points.'
Cassian stiffened. "Valet. What are you doing?"
"Ironing," Elian lied, his voice breathless. He was kneading Cassian's shoulders now, his thumbs digging into the muscle. "With body heat. It's... uh... friction therapy. Very modern."
Cassian turned around slowly, catching Elian's wrist. His grip was iron-tight.
Ding.[Contact: +5 Minutes.]
'Oh, thank god,' Elian thought, practically swooning at the notification. 'Angry hand-holding counts. Note to self: provoke him more often.'
"You have been serving me for three years, Elian," Cassian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And in three years, you have never dared to touch me for longer than a second. You used to shake so hard I thought you'd shatter."
He pulled Elian closer, looming over him. "Why are you suddenly pawing at me like a drunkard?"
Elian looked up at the Prince. He saw the suspicion in those cold eyes. The original 'Elian' must have been a terrified little mouse.
Well, the mouse was dead. The new Elian had a death clock and twenty years of repressed urges that were currently staging a coup.
Elian didn't pull his wrist away. He stepped closer, invading the Alpha's territory until their chests were inches apart. He looked specifically at Cassian's lips.
'He's going to hit me,' Elian thought. 'Or kiss me. Honestly? I'm okay with either right now.'
"Maybe I realized that shaking gets me nowhere," Elian said, his voice dropping to a husky pitch that he definitely didn't practice in the shower. "Or maybe I just realized that Your Highness needs a more... hands-on approach."
'Did I just say that?' Elian screamed internally. 'Who am I?'
Cassian blinked. For a split second, the cold mask cracked, revealing sheer confusion.
Then another window popped up in Elian's vision. This one was a leaderboard.
[LIVE RANKINGS]1. Ambrose (Player 1): 30 Hearts2. Rowena (Player 2): 24 Hearts3. Elian (Player 3): 0 Hearts
Elian felt a vein pop in his forehead. 'Ambrose? Rowena?' He recognized those names from the synopsis.
'Wait,' Elian realized with a jolt of horror. 'Ambrose is the guy who dies in the prologue, isn't he? Or was he the villain? And Rowena... she was the fiancée mentioned in the blurb?'
He hadn't read the book. He had no idea what their personalities were supposed to be, or what tragedies the Prince had suffered. He was flying blind.
'Thirty hearts? Ambrose must have read the wiki. He knows the cheat codes.'
"Get out," Cassian said, dropping Elian's wrist as if he'd been burned. He looked disturbed. "And tell the kitchen I want coffee. Black."
Elian checked his timer. [Time Until Death: 72 Hours, 17 Minutes.]
He had bought himself seventeen minutes of safety. Seventeen minutes of not dying, bought with a back rub and a wrist grab.
"Black coffee," Elian repeated. He bowed low, realizing with horror that his body instinctively arched his back to present his ass. He quickly straightened up. 'Bad ass! Down! Behave!'
"And perhaps a massage later? To relieve that tension?"
Cassian turned his back, dismissing him. "Get out before I have you flogged."
"Kinky," Elian muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"I said 'quickly', Your Highness! Going now!"
Elian backed out of the room, closing the heavy oak door. The moment he was alone in the hallway, he slumped against the stone wall, clutching his chest.
"System," he hissed. "Open Shop."
A new menu appeared. It was filled with icons that looked suspiciously like modern items re-skinned for fantasy.
Scent Blocker (High Grade): 50 LP
Lubricant (Silk Vine Extract): 20 LP
Aphrodisiac Incense (Subtle): 100 LP
Fertility Blocker (99% Effective): 500 LP
Elian looked at his wallet. 0 LP.
"Great," he said to the empty corridor. "I'm broke, I'm dying, and I'm in last place against people who actually read the manual."
He stood up, adjusting his collar. He could smell the Alpha scent lingering on his hands. A shiver of pure lust went down his spine. He stared at his hand.
"Traitor," he whispered to his own libido.
He looked at the closed bedroom door.
He had zero hearts. He had a death sentence. And he had absolutely no idea what the plot was.
Elian smirked, a wicked, shameless expression that didn't belong on a valet's face.
"Okay, Player One and Two," he whispered. "You have the script. But I have the System Shop. Let's see who wins."