Thin, nearly translucent leaves clung to the windowpanes, which allowed morning sunlight to filter through with a soft, warm glow. The room was filled with a soft and refreshing woody fragrance.
A cool breeze drifted in from the courtyard and gently caressed the young man lying inside. He shivered slightly. His eyes fluttered open, then immediately widened. What had caught his attention was not the room’s array of modern, European-style furniture. Instead, he was transfixed by the handsome face reflected in a nearby mirror.
The face had cool, emerald-green eyes that, despite their clarity, could not quite conceal a hint of confused bewilderment. He gave off the impression of someone who held the world at arm's length while simultaneously appearing utterly harmless.
He raised a hand to touch his own face. In the mirror, the black-haired, green-eyed youth performed the exact same gesture.
"Where... am I?" Lance murmured.
Well, this was more of a rhetorical question. The face staring back at him from the mirror was one he knew all too well. It was a character designed for a new game his company had developed: Thorns & Lionheart. He was the game’s lead artist, so he knew the character designs perfectly. He had somehow transmigrated over.
Last thing he remembered, he was in the office, joining his colleagues in burning incense to pray for the lead game designer’s mother, who had unexpectedly passed away. All of a sudden, he felt as if his brain had disconnected from his body, and he blacked out. And when he opened his eyes... Well, the rest was history.
For a while, he struggled to make sense of what was going on—until a tidal wave of information flooded his mind. His frown deepened.
One way or another, he had transmigrated into his own game. Unfortunately, he was not occupying the body of a hero with limitless potential, nor that of a heinous villain. Instead, he had become a mere background character from one of the game's side stories, "The Rise of Talia."
This youth, who was also named Lance, possessed a few distinguishing traits: He was handsome, he came from a wealthy family, and... he wasn't particularly bright! More importantly, he met a swift and ignominious end almost as soon as he appeared.
Since the character art for Talia, who was a pivotal figure in the game, had been assigned to him, he had also been tasked with designing every other character involved in her storyline. Of course, this included Lance.
He had never in a million years expected that he would now become that very same background character. Fortunately, out of sheer professional integrity, he had at least drawn Lance to be incredibly handsome.
As he sat there, cupping his chin with his palms, he couldn't help but wonder, Now, why exactly did this wealthy young master end up biting the dust again...
Although he was a lead artist in the Art Department, he had, for what it was worth, actually played the unreleased version of the game and had even received some of the character design documents about the character’s backstory.
It didn’t take long for him to remember. Someone was after the rich young master’s life, and that person was none other than the protagonist of the side story, as well as the one designated as the ultimate villain for the late-game content: Talia, a princess of the demon race.
At this particular point in time, the "Great Demon Talia" had yet to truly rise to power. Exiled from her own home, she was wandering across the human kingdoms under the guise of a destitute girl. Concealing her identity was the only way she could survive here. But her personal strength was already formidable, and when pushed to the absolute brink, she would be unable to suppress her ferocious nature and the violent impulses that lurked inside her.
And who might be the first person to provoke her into a violent outburst? None other than Lance!
Talia had dispatched a familiar, a Dark Carrier Pigeon, but Lance had shot it down, mistakenly thinking that it was a game bird.
When Talia finally tracked him down two days later... the young master, completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation, failed to offer an apology. Not only that, but he also subjected Talia, who looked no better than a beggar, to a barrage of merciless mockery. He even went as far as to claim that he would roast her other familiars as well and throw her an awesome barbecue party!
Ultimately, since Lance insisted on courting death, Talia made sure they got a date. She instantly butchered him, then made off with a sizable pile of gold and the family’s treasured ancient relic, the Hymn of Compassion.
These plundered goods would go on to serve as the vital initial capital for Talia's quest to restore the Demon Kingdom. In a sense, Mr. Lance was the demon princess’s greatest benefactor—a saint who would give his life for her cause.
I don't want to be the top donor to Talia's cause! Sitting on the bed, Lance clutched his head as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. Calm down. Look on the bright side. Things actually aren't that bad. Since I already know about the feud between Lance and Talia, all I have to do is not let that happen! Just don’t anger her and escort her safely out of the estate. Got it, Lance?
With the crisis reasonably easy to avert, Lance felt a surge of motivation and enthusiasm that he hadn't experienced in ages! This was surely his karmic reward for having been a law-abiding, virtuous citizen in his previous life.
Now, in this brand-new world, his glorious life as a wealthy young master was about to begin! Financial freedom! No more overtime! Wealth and power! This was truly the stuff of dreams!
Just then, a soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It seemed that the one knocking had heard the movement inside the room, because the next moment, a faint female voice drifted in. "Young Master, are you awake yet? You asked me to wake you up early yesterday..."
"I'm up," Lance called back as he climbed out of bed. But the moment his feet touched the floor, he nearly tripped over a pile of empty wine bottles clustered around the bedpost.
He paused, blinking in surprise.
Right...
Two months before, the old Lance had turned sixteen, which was the adult age here. And he had fallen into the bad habit of heavy drinking almost immediately.
Consequently, his memories of the past month or so felt somewhat disjointed and hazy.
Apparently, the old Lance had a habit of acting out and doing foolish things whenever he got drunk. Who knew if that incident from the original storyline, where Lance provoked Talia, had also happened because he had been in a drunken stupor?
This just goes to show that too much alcohol really does ruin lives...
While musing on this thought, Lance went about getting dressed. As he stepped out of the bedroom, he immediately noticed a maid standing nervously by the door, trembling slightly.
She appeared torn, compelled to carry out the "spoiled young master's" orders yet terrified that he might fly into a rage and berate her for having woken him.
In a calm and gentle tone, Lance greeted, "Good morning."
"Huh?" Looking utterly astonished, the maid let out a small, involuntary gasp. She seemed to be trying to gauge Lance's mood for the day. Then, snapping back to reality, she quickly said, "Master is waiting for you in the dining room."
Lance nodded. This was rather unusual; not because his parents had died or something like that, but because they were just too busy to see him on the regular. They were so overloaded with the affairs of their trading company that, in recent years, they’d barely played any part in raising Lance. In fact, according to the old Lance’s memories, it had become a rare occurrence for his father to even return home these days.
Lost in thought, Lance walked down the corridor of the mansion.
Without exception, every servant he passed would flinch, bow deeply, and then scurry away as if fleeing for their lives. It seemed the old Lance had caused quite a bit of trouble for those around him in his daily life.
Lance sighed inwardly. Although he only had a few memories of the old Lance’s drunken escapades, it appeared that he would become violent and smash things whenever he was intoxicated. The servants’ fear was entirely understandable.
***
Before long, Lance arrived at the dining room. Seated at the head of the long table was a middle-aged man, his father.
"You are late again." His father showed no intention of lecturing Lance. He was merely stating a simple fact.
"My apologies. I won't be drinking like that anymore."
From now on, there was no longer any need to entertain self-destructive habits. Lance was quite content with the life of a wealthy young master. He had but one goal in life: to live a life of comfort, stability, and peace of mind.
After a brief moment of bewilderment, his father nodded in response. "Sit down then."
It was not just him. Lance's demeanor evidently astonished everyone in the hall.
"Right." Gazing at the lavish spread on the table, a feast that far exceeded his personal definition of breakfast, Lance took his seat.
For some reason, he felt as though something was off. Instinctively, he raised his head and fixed his gaze upon a particular dish situated at the center of the long table.
Resting on the platter was a roasted pigeon, its skin a crisp, golden-brown hue. It had been evenly coated in a layer of aromatic spices and, despite having been carved, still retained its perfect, pristine form.
Wearing a peculiar expression, Lance slowly raised a finger, pointed at the pigeon, and asked, "What is this...?"
The more he looked at it, the stronger the inexplicable sense of déjà vu became. His father did not respond immediately, while the servants standing at a distance also turned to look at Lance in confusion. To them, Lance seemed utterly strange today—remarkably mild-mannered, above all else.
"It is the pigeon you hunted down yesterday. The servants prepared it for breakfast this morning, just as you requested." His father raised his head, cast a fleeting glance at Lance, and continued in a flat tone, "You were very drunk last night. Do you not remember anything about this?"
Lance was momentarily flabbergasted.
Yesterday? The pigeon I hunted down?
Lance instantly sensed that something was terribly off. He feigned composure, however, and reached with his fork toward an unfamiliar dish.
The roasted pigeon on the table looked nothing like it had in life, yet upon closely examining its shape, Lance became absolutely convinced: This was indeed the very pigeon belonging to the Great Demon, Talia. After all, he was the one who had originally drawn her familiar into existence.
Lance's peculiar behavior could not possibly escape his father's watchful eye.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. It’s just that I drank too much and now I’m feeling it. Alcohol really is the ruin of a man." Lance smiled briefly at his father and started eating his breakfast.
Catching another glimpse of the wretched state of Talia's familiar made him feel as though a bone was stuck in his throat.
My predecessor, you really were a stupid bastard. You shot down someone’s familiar, had it for breakfast... and then even mocked her like that! What kind of Great Demon Lord would not kill you after something like that?
Lance couldn't help but wonder: Was there any way to save this pigeon, which was now crispy on the outside and tender on the inside? The answer was no.
In that case, the most logical course of action for him right now was clear. He needed to thoroughly destroy the incriminating evidence. While he was at it, he also had to pull himself together and recover from his terrible hangover.
Thus, he reached out, picked up a pigeon leg, and brought it to his mouth. He took a bite of crispy roasted meat, rich with the taste of salt and saturated with savory juice. A marvelous flavor spread throughout his mouth.
Pure satisfaction surged through him. I should take the bones out to feed the dogs later.