Paul had always been... average. No, worse than average. At twenty-two years old, he was still living with his parents, had never had a girlfriend, and had just failed his third internship interview. Again.
He stared blankly at the "We regret to inform you…" email on his cracked phone screen while waiting for the bus. Rain drizzled down like the universe itself was disappointed in him. Tight money, tight schedule, and now even his future was slipping through his fingers like wet soap.
"Can it get any worse?"
He muttered to himself, stuffing his hands into his too-thin hoodie and walking home.
Apparently, yes—it could.
As he passed under a dimly lit overpass, he heard voices—angry ones. Shouts. A struggle.
Curious (or just stupid), Paul peeked around the corner. His eyes widened.
A high school kid—maybe sixteen or seventeen—was cornered by three older guys. They looked rough. One had a bat. Another had a chain wrapped around his hand.
"Where's our money, brat?"
Paul's brain screamed to walk away. His body? Already stepping forward.
"H-Hey! Leave him alone!"
Paul shouted, voice cracking mid-sentence. The kid looked over, eyes full of panic.
Paul jerked his head.
"Run, kid!"
The boy didn't hesitate. He bolted past Paul like lightning.
The goons turned.
"Oh, you think you're a hero?"
The bat guy snarled, stepping closer.
"He owed us money. You just made it worse."
Paul opened his mouth to speak, maybe to explain, maybe to apologize—but he didn't get the chance.
The guy with the chain lunged forward and swung.
Pain. A loud crack. Something snapped in his neck.
Paul collapsed, everything spinning. Cold cement kissed his cheek. His limbs twitched. His lungs refused to work. His vision faded.
'Ah… I really am useless…'
That was his last thought before everything went black.
A soft breeze brushed his cheek. Warm sunlight danced across his face.
Paul groaned and slowly opened his eyes.
"Huh?"
The ceiling was high, white, and patterned with gold trimming. Definitely an unfamiliar one. He sat up—wait, sat up? Didn't he die?
He blinked. He was in a massive bed covered in silk sheets. The room around him looked like something out of a palace—expensive furniture, velvet curtains, and even a crystal chandelier overhead.
"Where… am I?"
He tried standing. His body felt lighter, somehow younger.
Then—
Ding!
Congratulations, host, for your successful reincarnation.
System initializing… Please wait.
"...what?"
The sound echoed in his mind. It was neither male nor female, just a calm, neutral voice—like it came straight from a video game. But there was no speaker in the room. No phone. No earpiece.
He looked around wildly.
"Who's there? Who said that?!"
No answer.
But before he could panic more, a transparent blue screen popped up in front of his eyes.
[Welcome to the System!]
Name: Lucien Graycliff
Age: 17
Race: Human
Title: [Useless Prince]
Class: None
Level: 1
Skills: None
Mana: 13/13
Stamina: 12/12
Status: Alive (confused)
Paul stared. Rubbed his eyes. Stared again.
"Prince? What prince? Wait—17?!"
He ran to a mirror. A boy with messy black hair and noble clothes stared back. Big eyes. Pale skin. Definitely not twenty-two.
The voice returned, cheerfully:
Ding!
Host has successfully reincarnated as the 4th Prince of the Kingdom of Elreim—also known as the Useless Prince.
Let's work hard together!
Paul collapsed to his knees.
"Oh no. I got isekai'd… into a useless kid?!"