No, seriously, why him?
This should have happened to his sister.
She was the one who spent her life worshipping pixels and "gooning" over fictional men.
He was just a normie, a corporate cog who barely understood how these tropes worked.
This kind of thing was supposed to stay in the realm of fantasy, not drag him kicking and screaming into it.
’Dear Mr. Overlord, Goddess, or System Administrator: You’ve got the wrong demographic. Please return this player to the nearest cubicle!’
To make matters worse, his body was betraying him.
As the woman continued to hurl insults, David felt a traitorous heat crawling up his neck.
He wasn’t a masochist, he definitely wasn’t, but looking at her up close was like staring at a solar eclipse.
"Wow, you’re beautiful..." he murmured.
The words escaped his lips before his brain could file a formal protest.
Realizing he’d just complimented the woman currently trying to ruin his life, he slapped a hand over his mouth.
His sister was right. Swifties really were biologically programmed to worship red flags.
╔════════════════════╗
[TUTORIAL MISSION: The First Turn]
Scenario: Lady Corvina has initiated a [Public Humiliation] event.
Objective: De-escalate the situation without triggering a [Bad Ending].
═════════════════════
[SELECT YOUR ACTION]
1. [Dodge & Cry]: Triggers Prince’s protection. (+10 Favorability)
2. [Accept Splash]: Triggers "Pity" route. (+5 Charm)
3. [Custom Action]: Make your own dialogue.
╚════════════════════╝
What was with these dialogue options?!...
From what he’d seen over his sister’s shoulder, the heroine was a fragile porcelain doll who required a constant rotation of male leads to function. Naturally, the rest of the female cast hated her guts.
As a former man and a current corporate normie, David didn’t understand the "girl world" at all.
Why were they all trying to kill each other over these love interests?
Though, his sister used to joke that he was a white woman trapped in a man’s body. He supposed the universe took the hint.
"Why are you in a daze?!" Corvina, the game’s villainess, shouted. "Has your soul finally realized how disgusting you are?"
He desperately wished this were a dream, but the stinging on his cheek and the crushing weight of his corset were too vivid to ignore.
There was no more doubting it. He was trapped in a thirst-trap RPG for goonettes.
Also, why are the dialogues so... clunky?
"Corvina," a deep, velvety voice cut through the tension. David turned to see the male lead stepping forward. "Our engagement was a mere arrangement, one you forced upon me from the start."
A wave of whispers rippled through the ballroom.
Corvina stood, the target of a hundred judging eyes.
Every word from the man’s mouth was a calculated strike, designed to strip her of her dignity while the "heroine" watched from the sidelines.
It was brutal, it was humiliating, and for David, it was incredibly awkward to watch from inside a corset.
David looked at the Prince. Then he looked at Corvina, who was trembling, her eyes glassy.
[WARNING: Favorability with Prince Alistair is dropping! Select Option 1 or 2 to maintain the Plot Armor!]
To hell with the plot armor, David thought.
If his sister taught him anything from her late-night rants, it was that the Prince was a boring, vanilla red flag with the personality of a damp paper towel.
Why compete for a man who treats women like disposable assets when you can join forces with the person who actually owns the assets?
David, now Callista, stepped forward, her silk skirts swishing with a grace her brain hadn’t authorized.
"You’re right, Your Highness," Callista said, her voice ringing out across the ballroom.
The Prince smirked, stepping closer to "rescue" her. "I knew you would understand, my love. Let us cast this venomous woman out together—"
"No, I mean you’re right about the engagement being a ’mere arrangement,’" Callista interrupted, her tone shifting into the flat, icy register she used for firing underperforming interns. She turned his back on the Prince, facing the stunned Corvina.
"Which is why," Callista continued, reaching out and grabbing Corvina’s hand, which was cold, shaking, and very real—"I’m breaking up with you. Effective immediately. No severance. No notice period."
The ballroom went silent. Even the System seemed to lag.
"What... what are you saying?" the Prince stammered.
Callista ignored him, leaning into Corvina’s personal space.
Up close, she didn’t look like a villainess; she looked like someone who had put in eighteen-hour days to maintain a brand that was currently being liquidated.
"Corvina," Callista said, her eyes locked onto hers. "Forget him. He’s a depreciating asset. He’s a liability in a crown."
She turned back to the crowd, holding Corvina’s hand.
"The engagement is over! But Lady Corvina won’t be leaving alone. Because as of this moment, I am declaring my own engagement... to her."
[ERROR: STARRING HEROINE HAS ENTERED AN UNDEFINED ROUTE]
[SYSTEM COLLAPSE IMMINENT]
[LADY CORVINA FAVORABILITY: ERROR_OVERFLOW]
Corvina’s mouth fell open, her carefully applied lipstick suddenly looking like a smear of war paint on a collapsing monument. "You... you want me? Are your brains actually made of lace and ribbons?"
"Look, I don’t know how ’girl world’ works, and frankly, the UI in this place is garbage," Callista whispered. "Let’s stop fighting over the middleman and just go ruin his life."
Then she leaned in and didn’t just kiss Corvina’s cheek.
She grabbed Corvina by the chin, pulled her close enough to see the literal sparks of confusion in her eyes, and planted a firm, business-like peck right on her jawline.
Corvina froze.
A slow, deep crimson crept up her neck, not from romance, but from the sheer, unadulterated audacity of it.
"You... you absolute freak," she hissed, wiping her jaw with the back of her hand, her expression twisting into a look of profound disgust and amusement.