I woke up to the sensation of liquid silk against my skin and the hum of something I could only describe as pure power.
The room was a ballroom of black marble and gold filigree—built not for comfort, but to remind visitors who owned the world. The air tasted of expensive ozone and mana-infused incense, filtered through purification arrays that cost more than a small country.
In my previous life, I was a broke salaryman whose greatest luxury was adding a soft-boiled egg to my instant ramen. Now, I was drowning in opulence.
A line of maids stood frozen by the heavy oak doors, trembling like rabbits before a wolf.
"Get out," I said. My voice was deeper than I remembered—smooth, cold, and dripping with an effortless, bored arrogance.
They vanished in a frantic rustle of skirts, eager to escape the predator's den. One maid hesitated at the door, daring a terrified glance upward.
I met her eyes. She dropped her gaze instantly, her face paling as she scurried away.
Good. Fear was a currency I already owned in abundance.
I stood up and walked toward a full-length mirror framed in dragon-bone obsidian. The man looking back at me was a stranger, yet I knew every line of his face from a hundred hours of gameplay.
Shimmering silver hair. Piercing blood-red eyes. A jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
I was Lucas Vayne. I was the filthy rich, ultra-handsome heir to a magical conglomerate.
I was also the "Doomed Rich Young Master" of Eternal Sword, the most popular VRMMO-turned-reality game in history.
A sharp pain spiked in my neck.
For a split second, a memory that wasn't mine flashed before my eyes. I felt the biting cold of an enchanted ice blade against my throat. I saw the hateful glare of a woman with blue hair. I felt the sensation of my head severing from my shoulders, rolling across a marble floor while a crowd cheered.
I gasped, touching my intact neck. My pulse hammered against my skin."The execution," I whispered.
In the original story, Lucas Vayne was a walking cliché—an arrogant, rich brat who existed solely to be humiliated. He was the cannon-fodder villain destined to be publicly executed by his own fiancée, Seraphina Frost, during the Academy Entrance ceremony.
I turned away from the mirror and grabbed the smartphone resting on a nearby table. It was a sleek slab of polished obsidian, powered by a high-capacity mana core.
I checked the date. The 27th.
My stomach dropped.
The "Hero," Kaelen, would arrive at the Academy in exactly 72 hours. That was the moment the tutorial would trigger, and my countdown to a public execution would begin.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the panic fading into a cold, calculating clarity.
I wasn't the old Lucas Vayne. I wasn't the impulsive idiot who threw tantrums because his tea was too cold. I was a pragmatist.
"Die in the tutorial?" I scoffed, a dark smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Not happening."
If the world wanted me to be a villain, I would be the greatest one history had ever seen. But I wouldn't be evil for the sake of a laugh. I would be evil for efficiency.
The "Hero," Kaelen, was a self-righteous hypocrite who screamed about "friendship" while stumbling into S-rank opportunities purely because the plot demanded it. He was nothing more than a "Treasure Goblin" to me—someone I could farm for points and artifacts.
I stood up, pacing the room as my plan solidified.
Step one: Rob the Hero blind. Every artifact, every hidden inheritance, every "lucky encounter" he was destined to find? They were mine now.
Step two: Turn his destined heroines into my personal collection. Starting with Seraphina Frost, the Ice Queen who was supposed to cut off my head. I wouldn't just survive her; I would make her obsessed with me.
Step three: Break Kaelen's spirit so thoroughly he'll thank me for ending him.
I wasn't going to play by the rules of a "tutorial." I was going to own the game.
"Butler!" I called out, my voice ringing with authority.
The heavy doors creaked open instantly. An elderly man in a pristine tailcoat bowed deeply. "Yes, Young Master?"
"We're heading to the Black Market in the Lower District," I ordered, adjusting the cuffs of my silk robe. "Today."
The butler blinked, his mask of professionalism slipping for a fraction of a second. "The... Black Market, sir? That area is filthy. It is hardly befitting someone of your station."
"Did I ask for your opinion?" I asked softly.
The butler stiffened. "No, Young Master! I will have the car ready in five minutes."
He retreated, leaving me alone in the silence.
Suddenly, a strange, digital resonance hummed in the back of my mind. It grew louder, a sharp frequency that made my red eyes flare with power.
A notification pinged softly in my mind.
[ Initial Scan Complete: Host Compatibility 100% ]
"Perfect," I whispered.
A cold, crimson-edged interface materialized before my eyes, burning with a sinister light.
[ Villain of Destiny System — Awakened ]
[ Host: Lucas Vayne ]
[ Primary Target: Kaelen (Child of Destiny) ]
[ Core Directive: Plunder Everything ]
[ Main Quest: Survive the Tutorial Execution ]
[ Time Remaining: 71:59:59 ]
A faint, cruel smile painted my lips as I looked at the timer.
"Let the plunder begin."