The violent impact made Sean's throat jerk involuntarily.
The last model he finished before his sudden death had been Cheryl—but it was the redesigned version for later in the game, where she had a whole new look.
The disconnect between reality and game graphics, plus the difference in versions, meant it took Sean a moment to realize:
Cheryl… he was Cheryl.
And that woman—tattooed, bones shattered—was Fog Ghost? I slept with someone from Fog Ghost?
Then Sean's current identity became painfully clear.
Sean...
The Sean from the game, who shared his name and surname!
In the game, Paradise City—home to 20 million post-apocalypse survivors—was both heaven and hell. And Sean? One of the early-stage villain bosses. The second-in-command of "Golden Ghost," the dominant gang of the city's western district.
Sean's mouth twitched.
Thanks to the concept artist's insane skills, his character had gone viral with just a few promo trailer shots—fans of all genders calling him "hubby." But once the game launched, with all his inhumane antics? The fandom flipped. Hard. He was branded a poster boy for "psycho scum," topping the "Top 10 Most Pathetic Bosses" that month.
A meme of his smug face captioned "Damn, I really am a perv huh.jpg" spread like wildfire.
He was supposed to be the brains among the bosses, with tricky puzzles before his fight and mobs far harder than the player's level should allow. But once players got to the actual boss fight?
Let's just say: He lived up to his "brains over brawn" rep...
Because he was pathetically weak. Slow area attacks, barely scratching single-target hits, and a health bar that couldn't even match an elite mob's. Strategy guides wrote pages on how to solve puzzles and survive mobs, but when it came to Sean? Just two words: Tank him.
And the worst part?
This character—the one now living this nightmare—was created by Sean himself.
Small dev team. As a modeler, Sean sometimes helped with character design… and this boss? Every single CG, even the "defeat" scenes, had his fingerprints all over them.
How satisfied he'd been with that dark little joke then—how deeply he regretted it now.
They'd given the boss his real name for laughs. Made him dark and dramatic for a bit of spice. He was never meant to last long.
All the devs agreed: give him a cool look, then kill him off fast.
Even the ways he could die? Sean wrote half of them himself.
Wind howled. The high-rise had collapsed, leaving Sean and the woman standing in neon haze under the night sky.
The sour sting in his nose? That was Paradise City's trademark—its thick "Death Sky," the toxins from the Great Rift, and the sheer pile of corpses nearby...
But that wasn't the focus now.
The real focus was her.
Memories slammed back into place. He knew exactly who she was.
White hair. Crimson eyes. The woman approached calmly and locked eyes with him. "Hello, Mr. Spoils of War."
More memories surfaced. Sean actually sighed in relief.
I know this plotline well. And you? I know you even better...
In a flash, he buried his fear and unease and made a decision.
"You just killed my right-hand… my bedmate. And you're this calm? Anyone else would think you came to save me, Princess Loci."
The moment he finished, an overwhelming force pinned him to the wall. Her ornate metal orb turned into a twin-blade energy weapon glowing blue, its tips pressing against his throat.
Loci's eyes gleamed with killing intent. "How do you know my identity?"
Sean's throat bobbed slightly. No panic.
He knew she wouldn't kill him.
Loci was lethal—when she struck, she struck with precision. No hesitation, no mercy, no second chances.
The two bodies on the floor? One was Cheryl—his "right hand." The other? The leader of the Fog Ghost gang.
Tonight's mission had been to negotiate with Fog Ghost.
Well, in Paradise City terms, "negotiation" usually meant "Do what I say or die." Somehow it ended in bed. Totally normal.
Loci's sudden entry wasn't to kill—she was here to kidnap.
First: one of her clansmen was locked in Sean's private dungeon. Only he could open it.
Second: she planned to use him as a bargaining chip, trading him to the Academy in exchange for airship rescue.
On this path, Sean had three scripted deaths:
1. Caught in the crossfire while fleeing.
2. Handed over to the Academy, only for Golden Ghost's leader to show up—boom, more crossfire.
3. Loci loses control, activates her genes, and—guess what—crossfire again.
Being the "brains" of the villains was a curse.
Sean narrowed his eyes.
This arc? It features an extremely important item aboard the airship. Now that he's in the game for real, the goal is survival—and power.
And Loci? She's his first real opportunity.
His instincts roared to life. Adrenaline surged.
Take the risk? Hell yes.
"Miss Loci, if you could figure out I'd be here tonight, isn't it natural that I might know a few things too?" Sean's tone was cool and unshaken.
Loci studied him. Then she lowered the blade. The weapon shifted back into an orb.
Her smile—so unlike her usual frosty image—flashed across her face. "Golden Ghost's boss, Jin Kui, is stuck in a recovery pod 24/7. That leaves Sean, the cruel, womanizing second-in-command… but today, he shows brains and backbone. Seems that infamous scumbag act of yours is just a mask. At the very least, your intel network is top-tier."
Here we go again, Sean thought, sighing inside. This woman wasn't cool and detached at all—she was paranoid, sharp, and a little... well, annoying.
He licked his lips. "Miss Loci, I know what you and your people are facing. Trading me for an airship won't help. In your homeland, airships can't fly."
Loci's gaze sharpened. She hadn't expected this "brute" to know everything.
She was Princess of the Rainbow Nest Clan—genetically evolved post-apocalypse survivors who lived atop a mountain. At the base? Endless, berserk beast hordes.
As time passed, resources ran dry. Her people sent scouts down the mountain to seek salvation… but none returned.
Loci descended alone, only to learn that most of her people had died. One captured—by the man standing in front of her.
And Sean's reputation?
Obsessed with three things: women (the hotter the better), torture (he loved a good scream), and absurd, twisted theatrics.
Capturing her clansman ticked all his favorite boxes.
No wonder she attacked without hesitation.