A Familiar Ceiling
A somewhat familiar ceiling. A room steeped in an old-fashioned atmosphere so grand it made my jaw drop. I blinked slowly, eyes half-lidded, and sat up by reflex.
“Damn it.”
A week had passed. It was time to accept the truth. The place I had just been lying in was no dream—it was the cold, undeniable reality before my eyes.
“……”
Why the hell was I trapped in this cursed world again? I had retraced every step countless times over the past week. Agonized over it. Yet the conclusion was always the same.
I had failed to clear it. Therefore, I had been granted a second round.
In truth, it wasn’t even a question worth agonizing over.
“……Fuck.”
I shifted my gaze to the mirror in front of me. Inside it was the face of a rather languid-looking man. Disheveled jet-black hair. Fierce, predatory eyes and a sharply sculpted nose. A face so familiar it turned my stomach.
Kyle Winfred. Second son of the Winfred Ducal House—one of the three great guardian families protecting the Northern Continent. And a bastard.
There was no heartbreaking tale, no memorable twist, no unavoidable justification. Because Kyle Winfred was the quintessential villain, meticulously molded solely to serve as the protagonist’s trials and obstacles.
“Hmm.”
When I lightly clenched and unclenched my fist, the man in the mirror copied the motion exactly. Seeing a younger Kyle Winfred again stirred an oddly fresh feeling. But now was not the time for sentiment.
Like any villain worth his salt, Kyle Winfred was destined to meet a trash-like end. His ducal status did buy him some extension on that fate, but the crucial point was that he was not the legitimate heir—merely a bastard. With no real standing inside the family, the moment he crossed the line he would be killed on the spot. And above all else…
Absolute Evil
Just as light exists because darkness does. Your death is inevitable for the salvation of the world. Die a villain’s death befitting your role.
🎁 Reward: Return to your original world
📈 Scenario Progress: 0%
Yes. This was the problem. Because of this insane quest, Kyle Winfred could not be allowed to die sloppily. He had to push the progress rate all the way to 100% and meet the most convincing end possible. In short, that meant inserting Kyle Winfred into the center of the narrative and elevating him to one of the main characters…
“Bullshit.”
I glared at the system with narrowed eyes.
“You think I’ll fall for the same trick twice?”
I remembered it clearly. The moment I lay dying from the poison Isabelle had prepared, the notification that had flickered into my blurring vision: ‘Scenario Progress 100%.’
I had fulfilled every listed condition. Yet I had still failed. All because of some absurd excuse called “insufficient synchronization rate.”
Synchronization Rate: ??
A new metric that appeared after the regression. One of the core conditions for clearing. The system is clearly screwing with me.
Synchronization rate. I still didn’t understand the principles behind it. The only things I could infer were that it was another mandatory condition for clearing—and that the system had it out for me. Nothing more.
“Forget it.”
My life was on the line. I could no longer blindly trust this damned system. For all I knew, this round could suddenly dredge up some new condition and invalidate the clear again.
The only immediate problem was…
[BLOCKED] [BLOCKED] [BLOCKED]
The price for defying the system. I’ll uncover it gradually.
It was fine. I could learn about the penalty bit by bit from here on. My goal had not changed. To escape this world and return to my original one.
And.
“Lee Seung-jun.”
Lee Seung-jun. To return to my real body waiting for me back in Korea.
“First, I need to secure the Holy Relic.”
The Holy Relic—an artifact said to contain divine power. Its true identity was only vaguely mentioned even in the official setting books. I had never seen the real thing. I had only heard secondhand rumors that obtaining it would let one open the dimensional gate.
The system, or the Holy Relic?
In the previous round I had chosen the system without hesitation, but this time I needed to revise the plan.
Obtain the Holy Relic. Then open the dimensional gate with my own power and return to the original world.
Just as I finished organizing my thoughts—
Knock, knock—
Two measured knocks echoed through the room.
“Young master.”
When I opened the door, an old butler with snow-white hair stood outside. He remained in the doorway and stated his business.
“A guest has arrived.”
I frowned.
“A guest? Who?”
“Lady Isabelle Ustia.”
“Ah. So it was today.”
Isabelle Ustia. The reason my fiancée had come here was obvious. She wanted to sabotage the upcoming engagement ceremony by any means necessary. She loathed Kyle Winfred with every fiber of her being, after all.
‘Normally I should be forcing the engagement through, but…’
The engagement with Isabelle offered excellent cost-performance in many ways. I could fully utilize my status as her fiancé to obstruct her at every turn, and above all, it would allow intervention in the main episodes to come. There was no better way to build a hostile relationship with her. Yet at the same time, it would bind me to the family. It would undoubtedly interfere with securing the Holy Relic.
Then my decision was made.
“I’ll go right now.”
First, break the engagement.
****
“This way, please.”
I followed the butler toward the mansion’s central staircase. Since the reception room was on the first floor, it was the natural choice.
“……”
Noon at the mansion was bustling. Countless servants moved systematically through the corridors on every floor, maintaining the estate. Perhaps it was rare to see me outside my room; many of them stole glances as I passed.
Contempt. Disdain. Disgust. Only gazes I knew all too well, like coming home.
Step. Step.
After walking for some time, I arrived before a door covered in lavish decorations and ornate patterns—the entrance to the reception room.
The moment I stepped inside, the heavy scent of black tea stung my nose. Passing the neatly arranged furniture, my eyes met Isabelle’s where she sat in a chair.
“It’s been a while.”
She bowed her head first. She was a woman of breathtaking beauty no matter how many times I saw her. It was probably why the original Kyle Winfred—weak to a pretty face—had been so obsessed with marrying her.
But what could I do? Roughly ninety percent of all recorded deaths for Kyle Winfred were tied to Isabelle.
I stood there without expression, simply watching her. I could already picture the lines she would recite with that stiff face of hers.
It had been the same in the first round. Isabelle would greet me first, and I would ignore her completely. After a brief silence she would sigh deeply, as if she had expected nothing, and demand a breakup in a voice thick with rage…
“Kyle?”
…Huh?
Why is she acting like this?
“Kyle, is there something on my face?”
Crazy. Did she just call me Kyle?
What happened to the usual “Sir Kyle” or “Kyle Winfred”?
Isabelle’s condition seemed off. Had she hit her head on the way here?
I carefully schooled my expression and spoke.
“…It’s been a while.”
A pure, innocent smile bloomed on Isabelle’s lips at my blunt reply. As if those few words were enough to satisfy her.
‘She hasn’t gone insane from the penalty, has she?’
Whether while playing the game before the regression or while living inside it after possession, Isabelle had never once smiled at Kyle. She had cursed him to fall into hell many times, but never this.
“Please, sit down. The tea is excellent.”
I hesitated, then took a seat. I kept silent. I wanted to see exactly how far she had fallen into madness.
“I apologize for visiting without prior notice. My maid mixed up the date.”
“……”
“There’s something I’d like to discuss regarding the engagement ceremony. Could you spare me a moment?”
So she hadn’t completely lost her mind. Even in her madness, she was still trying to bring up the breakup.
“Perfect timing. I had something to say as well.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
Sorry, but I’m taking the lead. Only if I act like I’m reluctantly granting the breakup can I hold any leverage over her later.
Of course, simply declaring “Let’s break up!” wouldn’t erase the political marriage our families had arranged. Countless interests were tangled together in that single union like a knotted thread.
But that wasn’t my concern. If both parties hated the idea enough to die over it, what could the others possibly do?
“Let’s pretend our engagement never happened.”
Isabelle’s eyes flooded with shock. Since this was the breakup she had longed for, the impact must have been enormous. I waited with composure for her reply.
“……”
She lowered her head. Then she clenched her trembling hands so tightly the knuckles turned white.
Tick. Tock.
In the hushed silence, the clock’s second hand beat out a steady rhythm.
“Ha.”
A hollow laugh slipped from her lips. Even now she still clung rigidly to proper etiquette; that alone was astonishing.
A moment later, Isabelle pressed a hand to her eyes and asked,
“Are you serious?”
Of course I was. More serious than I had ever been.
“After whispering that you loved me only days ago, you now want to break the engagement? Is this your true heart?”
“I did love you. But not anymore.”
“Not… anymore…?”
Isabelle stammered as though the words had struck her like a blow. Soon a demonic glint flickered in her eyes. Her expression grew so terrifying that, to put it crudely, she looked completely unhinged. She let out a chilling laugh.
Then she gave an answer I had never anticipated.
“I refuse.”