Kazuki Saito's fingers trembled as they hovered over the keyboard. The numbers on his screen blurred together, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. Three days straight at the office. Again.
"Saito! The Tanaka account revisions where are they?" His manager's sharp voice cut through the stale office air.
Kazuki swallowed hard. "Almost done. Just need"
"You said that three hours ago." The man's tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up. "Client's waiting. Again."
Kazuki nodded, forcing his aching fingers back to work. The clock read 3:47 AM.
The door to his tiny apartment clicked shut behind him. Kazuki didn't bother with the lights. He kicked off his shoes, letting them lie where they fell, and went straight for the fridge.
One beer left.
The crack of the can opening echoed in the silent apartment. He took a long drink, the bitter taste washing over his tongue. The numbness that followed was the only relief he got these days.
His laptop sat waiting on the coffee table, the title screen of Eternalis: Crown of the Fallen glowing in the dark. The haunting main theme filled the empty space.
"Just one run," he muttered, collapsing onto the couch.
The game loaded Leonhardt von Grendel, the duke's third son, standing tall in Blackthorn Castle's grand hall. Kazuki scoffed.
"Worthless noble." He took another swig.
He knew this route by heart. No matter what choices he made, Leonhardt always died.
Option 1: Trust the maid
Poisoned in Act 1
Option 2: Refuse the tea
Framed for treason
Option 3: Run away
Ambushed by bandits
Kazuki mashed the buttons, skipping dialogue he'd memorized.
On screen, Leonhardt collapsed, blood pooling on marble floors. His brother Claudius stood over him, dagger in hand.
"You were never fit to carry our name."
"GAME OVER"
Kazuki slammed his fist on the table. "Damn it!"
He restarted.
His phone buzzed. A notification:
"Student Loan Payment Due: ¥128,000"
Kazuki crushed the empty beer can in his hand.
"Screw it."
He started another playthrough.
3:12 AM. His eyelids grew heavy. The controller slipped from his fingers.
"One... more try..."
Darkness took him.
Then
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in the void:
"Survival Probability: 0.3%. Good luck, Player."
Kazuki's eyes flew open
Kazuki's breath caught in his throat. The pillow beneath his head was impossibly soft, the sheets smooth as liquid against his skin. He blinked up at the black silk canopy, his mind struggling to reconcile the lavish bedchamber with his memory of collapsing onto a cheap office chair.
This isn't my apartment.
A sharp pain lanced through his temple flashes of a life not his own. Leonhardt von Grendel. Third son of Duke Aldric von Grendel. Twenty-two years old. A noble with no talent for swordplay, no head for politics, and a future as bleak as the northern winters.
No. This is
"Young Master?"
The voice snapped him back to the present. The maid Elise, his traitorous mind supplied stood beside the bed, her honey-blonde curls pinned neatly beneath a lace cap. Her cornflower-blue dress was spotless, the white apron cinched tightly at her waist. A silver tray trembled slightly in her hands, steam curling from the porcelain cup atop it.
Kazuki's stomach twisted. He knew that tea.
Hemlock root. Sweetened with honey to mask the bitterness. In three sips, Leonhardt's first route ends with convulsions and bloody foam on his lips.
"You're… awake earlier than usual," Elise said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Did you sleep well?"
Kazuki forced himself to sit up, his muscles screaming in protest. The movement sent a cascade of silver hair over his shoulder. Silver. He grabbed a handful, heart pounding. In the gilded mirror across the room, a stranger stared back sharp violet eyes, aristocratic features pale as moonlight, and that damned silver hair, the hallmark of the Grendel bloodline.
I'm him.
The realization hit like a bucket of ice water.
"Young Master?" Elise took a step closer, the tea tilting precariously. "Your tea will grow cold."
Kazuki's fingers dug into the embroidered duvet. Every instinct screamed to refuse it, but
If I act out of character now, she'll suspect something.
He forced a lazy smile, the way Leonhardt always did in the game's opening cutscene. "Leave it on the nightstand. I'll drink it after I dress."
Elise's grip tightened on the tray. "But the duke requested your presence in the solar by eight bells. It's already half past seven."
Shit. In the game, this was the moment Leonhardt either drank the tea and died or refused and sparked his brother's suspicion. Kazuki swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet sinking into the thick fur rug. The cold stone beneath sent a shiver up his spine.
"Then I suggest," he said, channeling every ounce of Leonhardt's canon arrogance, "you fetch my valet instead of hovering like a startled goose."
Elise's cheeks flushed pink, but she set the tea down with a sharp clink and curtsied. "Of course, Young Master."
The door clicked shut behind her.
Kazuki lunged for the teacup, dumping its contents into a potted fern by the window. The plant wilted instantly, leaves curling black at the edges.
Definitely poisoned.
A knock at the door. "My lord?" A deep voice Gerard, Leonhardt's personal valet.
"Enter."
The man who stepped inside was built like a brick wall, his close-cropped beard streaked with gray. His navy doublet bore the Grendel crest a raven clutching a thorned rose stitched in silver thread. Unlike Elise's practiced deference, Gerard's bow was stiff, his dark eyes assessing.
"Your brother sent word," he said, laying out a deep emerald coat on the bed. "He expects you at breakfast."
Claudius. The name sent a jolt of adrenaline through Kazuki. In every route, the eldest Grendel son was the architect of Leonhardt's early demise.
"Tell him I'll be down shortly," Kazuki said, shrugging into the coat. The fabric was heavier than he expected, lined with something that shimmered like spider silk.
Gerard hesitated. "My lord… you look unwell."
Kazuki caught his reflection again the dark circles under Leonhardt's eyes, the pallor of his skin. Probably because the real Leonhardt's soul just got yeeted out of existence.
"Too much wine last night," he muttered, reaching for the door.
The hallway outside was a lavishly decorated one. Frosted-glass lanterns cast wavering light over tapestries depicting Grendel victories, their threads so finely woven the battles seemed to move in the flickering glow. At the far end, a stained-glass window shattered the morning light into shards of crimson and gold.
And standing beneath it, arms crossed, was a woman who made Kazuki's blood run cold.
Seraphina von Grendel.
The duke's only daughter was every bit as terrifying in person as she'd been on Kazuki's gaming monitor. Her onyx-black hair was braided into a crown, the Grendel silver streaks gleaming like blades. Her dress a violent shade of crimson clung to her figure, the high collar embroidered with tiny raven skulls.
"Well?" she drawled, tapping a finger against her elbow. "Are you going to gawk like a peasant, or are you coming to breakfast?"
Kazuki's mouth went dry. In the game, Seraphina was the wild card sometimes an ally, often a killer. Her route always ended with Leonhardt's heart literally in her hands.
Option 1: Snark back.
Option 2: Apologize.
Option 3: Run.
He chose Option 1.
"Forgive me, sister. I was distracted by your… creative interpretation of mourning attire."
Seraphina's smile was a knife wound. "And I was distracted by the stench of incompetence. Hurry up. Father's in a mood."
She turned on her heel, her skirts hissing against the marble floors.
Kazuki exhaled.
Survival Probability: 0.3%
Somehow, that felt optimistic.