* * *
The wire that had once choked Zavad now wrapped itself around Ranshel’s throat.
Why would someone so skilled with a sickle choose to strangle instead?
Even as his thoughts began to fade, the question echoed in his mind.
‘Why?’
How could Zavad—how could he be killed here, by some blurry, throwaway extra character that didn’t even exist in his memory?
‘Why?’
Why did Zavad—this young boy—have to die like this?
There had to be a reason.
A reason, something to make sense of it.
Otherwise, how could he let go?
He couldn’t release anything.
Not like this.
Eyes clouded with blood and tears—lost their light completely.
His vision went dark. Pitch black.
Against the darkness, a system window appeared.
[Mini Game Over]
[One spare life has been lost.]
[♥♥♥♥♥▷♥♥♥♥♡]
[Please be advised: losing all lives will result in complete death.]
Suddenly, the darkness lifted.
The flood of light was so abrupt, so intense, it felt blinding.
Alongside the overwhelming brightness came a deafening roar of sound.
“Patient! Patient!”
“Can you hear me? Please respond!”
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Mechanical sounds, ticking at a steady rhythm.
“It was a motorcycle accident. He had a helmet on, but the car that hit him was speeding like crazy…”
“If his blood pressure stabilizes, we’ll move him straight to surgery.”
Voices, serious and urgent, exchanged above his head.
Ah, it’s a dream.
That was the thought that came to mind as the pressure in his ears began to ease.
There was no way sounds like this could exist in the Duke Pomel’s estate.
Bright fluorescent lights, machines making noise, doctors in white coats, nurses in blue uniforms—these were all things that could only exist in dreams.
“We’re moving!”
The bed he was lying on rolled forward with a rattling of wheels.
Only then did he realize the people surrounding him were pushing the bed somewhere.
The medical staff had looks of intense determination, clear even through their masks.
They looked like people trying to save a patient on the brink of death.
For a dream, this felt way too real. Just as that thought struck him—
“Oppa, wake up!”
Huh. Wait a minute.
“…Ugh, uh.”
“Yes, that’s it, patient! Keep making noise!”
“Patient, what’s your name? Say your name!”
Name. He was being told to say his name.
“…Eun.”
Eunhye.
“Oppa! Oppa, please!”
A cry tinged with tears slammed through his mind.
The submerged consciousness barely lifted its head.
Finally, the pain he had forgotten came rushing in.
An unbearable wave of agony made his fingers twitch and his toes curl.
Or maybe… even that was just what he imagined.
He didn’t really know what parts of his body were moving.
Did anything still function properly?
He could see, he could hear, but he wasn’t sure if either was truly working.
“Oppa!”
Eunseong tried to make a sound, anything.
But even moving his lips was a struggle. When he tried to open his mouth, he gagged.
A putrid mix of metallic stench and vomit rose up from his throat.
“Ugh… k, Eun… hye…”
The voice he barely managed to force out was more like waste than speech.
A smell like something rotten and decayed, a stiff jaw, a hardened tongue, crumbled teeth.
Everything in his body was screaming one thing.
You’re ruined.
You’ve lost all value, and now you’re nothing more than garbage.
Eunhye was clinging to the edge of the hospital bed, crying.
Cha Eunseong tried to strain his neck to look at her.
But even that wasn’t easy.
His body wouldn’t move like it was his own anymore.
The once-healthy body had lost all its functions and turned into something like an old broken machine.
At twenty-five, having only youth to offer, he had thrown his entire body into repaying debt.
Now, Cha Eunseong was nothing but a pile of scrap.
The brilliant hope he had once chased had vanished without a trace.
All that was left for him now was debt in the hundreds of millions, a wrecked body, and a future crushed to pieces.
And what about Eunhye?
She was left with the same: a brother who came back with a body in ruins and a future in shambles.
Was that the only thing Cha Eunseong had to offer her?
A nightmare like this?
‘No.’
Eunseong would never allow that.
His eyes, bloodshot with burst vessels, flew open.
He couldn’t speak properly, but he would get his will across, somehow.
“Hhh… Oppa…”
‘It’s okay, Eunhye. Don’t worry. I’ll come back soon. I’ll return with a healthy body. Has Oppa ever let you down? Just that one time, right?’
Just wait a little. Oppa will come back, really soon…
…
His vision, blurred with blood and tears, gradually went dark.
As the blackout returned, a system window appeared like it had been waiting.
[Attempting to reconnect to the game.]
[An error has occurred!]
[Retrieving memories of sub-character “Petro”… 3%]
[Connection unstable due to mismatch between body and memory.]
[Reconnecting to original body.]
“…Huhk!”
Thunk!
A loud thud hit the floor, followed by a short scream.
Gary, jolted awake, sleepily peeked over the edge of his bed.
It was still dawn, a faint bluish glow gently lighting the dark room.
Gary recognized the figure curled up tightly on the floor.
“Ranshel?”
There was no reply.
Rubbing his eyes in a sleepy daze, Gary reached for the prayer book he kept beside his bed, unsettled by the strange tension in the air.
“Why… what’s wrong, Ranshel?”
Ranshel’s back trembled as he curled up like a pill bug.
His fingers, tensed like a cat’s claws, scraped furiously at the floor.
From his face, buried downward, came faint sobbing.
He didn’t look human.
Not a sane one, at least. Gary, his eyes trembling, clutched the prayer book to his chest.
‘The young master’s evil spirit has finally possessed Ranshel…!’
Other servants began to stir, tossing off their blankets one by one, sensing the commotion.
“What the hell is going on this early in the morning?”
One of them approached the figure on the floor—Zen, a young man who oversaw the junior servants.
Gary held his prayer book tightly. If the spirit turned on Zen next, he would use that chance to bolt from the room.
“What? It’s just Ranshel. Is he sick or something?”
“…”
“Why is he sweating this much?”
Zen wiped Ranshel’s soaked back and grabbed the hand that had been clawing at the floor.
“Wait, your hands—oh my god!”
“…”
“Your fingernails are all torn. Gary, get the first aid box!”
He turned toward Gary, who was still hugging his prayer book.
Gary flinched and shook his head wildly.
“N-no, I can’t right now… Louis, you go get it!”
“Why me? You’re the one in charge of Ranshel’s training!”
“You brats, is this really the time to argue over duties?”
The peaceful dawn gradually turned chaotic.
In the midst of panic, Ranshel slowly blinked, reacting to the voices in his ears.
The noisy bickering among the servants helped calm him down.
There were no fluorescent lights, no beeping machines.
This wasn’t a hospital—this was the Pomel estate.
He wasn’t being wheeled away on a stretcher.
He was in the servant quarters.
In the body of Ranshel, not Cha Eunseong.
It was all a dream.
None of it had happened.
* * *
