In a darkened room, a young man sat in a gaming chair.
He tapped furiously at his keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen, completely absorbed in his game.
The screen flashed red, and bold letters appeared: KEVIN LIGHTHEART DIED.
Thud.
A mouse shot across the room.
“Fuck, I died again.
Tsk.
I was so close to finishing, too.
This was my four hundred and thirtieth attempt, but I just couldn’t beat this game.
The game was called Legendary Sovereign.
Even three years after its release, it still topped the charts in ten different countries.
Still, not many people managed to beat it—and those who did almost always went the harem route.
But I was too stubborn for that—it went against my principles.
I’m the type to stay loyal to one person, no matter what.
Can you honestly tell me that you like all your siblings equally?
There’s no way.
As humans, we naturally favour one over the others, no matter how much we deny it.
And who has the energy to juggle between five different relationships?
If I do something for one, another gets jealous—it’s exhausting.
I even gave harem novels a chance, but most of them were weird.
Who wants to read about a brother and sister with an uncomfortably close relationship?
It’s basically incest, even if the author tries to disguise it as ‘bro-con.’ I don’t buy that a sister actively pursuing her brother is just a bro-con.
And don’t get me started on the people who are into that sort of thing.
Some of them are genuinely strange—creepy Reddit/Discord mods who beg every author to turn their story into a harem.
Key word: some.
Sigh.
I’m ranting in my head again—where was I?
Oh, right, the game.
So I decided to go solo, skipping the romance route entirely.
It’s not that I didn’t care about romance, but the only character who interested me was the villainess princess: Seraphina, the third illegitimate princess of the empire.
Everyone said that it was impossible to make her a heroine because she despised Kevin to her core.
The game never explained why, which was disappointing.
Ding.
My phone buzzed with a notification.
It was a message from my closest friend.
Josh: Yo bro we are going to grab a drink at this bar.
Do you wanna come?
Me: You know I’m too young to drink right?
Plus I don’t like drinking anyway
Josh: ik but you can still show up there will be a woman there
Me: Say less send me the location and I’ll be on my way
Josh: got you.
I stood up and switched on the light in my room.
The space was massive, with a king-sized bed at its centre, a huge couch in one corner, and a television that took up nearly the whole wall.
I walked to my walk-in closet and pulled out some modest clothes.
In truth, they weren’t all that modest, but compared to my usual style, they were nothing special.
I glanced in the mirror and checked my reflection.
My black hair fell over my forehead, shadowing my dark eyes.
I took off my glasses and swapped them for contact lenses.
Then I threw on my jacket and left my room.
I walked through the luxurious corridor and headed for the garage.
“Sir,” called a feminine voice.
I turned to see Ulia—the housekeeper who managed my daily needs—hurrying over to me.
“Are you leaving?
Mhm,” I replied casually.
“I’ll assign bodyguards for you immediately.”
“There is no need.
But sir- don’t make me repeat myself.” Ulia reluctantly obeyed and hurriedly backed off.
I walked towards the house garage and entered my favourite car.
A humble Porsche 911.
I started the car, its engine humming through the garage, and drove out of the massive estate.
The property had belonged to my father—until he died in a car crash last year.
I remembered that day clearly and celebrated like I’d won the World Cup.
My father was a shitty, wealthy man who regularly beat me.
Why?
Because of my grades at college.
I didn’t attend a normal college; instead, I went to a private college for spoiled rich kids.
So when I underperformed, it reflected poorly on my dad, and he would take it out on me.
He always claimed my bad grades were because of that damn game—and he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Ever since Legendary Sovereign was released when I was fifteen, I’ve been obsessed.
I even skipped classes to play it.
So when my father died, I inherited everything and quit college; nothing could stop me.
I used to have a mother and sister.
I say ‘used to’ because they died in a car accident when I was four.
It seems cars were my family’s natural enemy.
I thought that as I sped through the streets in my Porsche 911, breaking every speed limit imaginable.
But can you blame me?
I was eighteen, freshly licensed—you’ve got to let loose sometimes, right?
Buzz.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
I picked it up—Josh was calling.
I answered, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding the phone to my ear.
When I answered, I could hear commotion in the background.
“Josh?”
“Yo, you need to get here quick—Mike just got into a huge fight.”
“Fat Mike?”
“Yeah, and it’s with a girl.”
“No way!”
“Yes way.
Get over here quick.”
“Alright, give me two and I’ll be there.”
I hung up and pressed the accelerator, weaving around other cars.
I ended up behind a black Challenger Hellcat, with no way to pass.
I honked, but the driver slowed down instead of speeding up.
That irritated me, so as soon as I could, I overtook him and brake-checked him.
I’d come to regret that.
Instead of braking, the guy crashed straight into me.
CRASH.
My Porsche 911’s rear was smashed in, and my car spun sideways through the air.
The airbag exploded in my face as gravity pulled me down, slamming me into the road.
My car flipped through the air, bouncing along the ground—each impact leaving me half-conscious—until it finally rolled to a stop.
I barely felt any pain; adrenaline numbed my body, yet I couldn’t move.
My arm was snapped to the side, twisted at an unnatural angle.
Blood dripped from my head as my eyelids drooped, desperate for sleep.
The stench of gasoline filled my nose, and the tick of the hazard lights echoed in my ears.
My heart pounded, but I could feel it losing its rhythm.
“So am I really going to end up like the rest of my family, huh?” I muttered, then let out a weak, lifeless chuckle.
Before I died, I managed one last line: “It’d be nice to get transmigrated to some peaceful novel… pfft, who am I kidding.”
With that, my heart stilled, and my consciousness slipped away.
A/N
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