Prologue
In the dark room, a faint glow from the monitor illuminated one wall. Amid the scattered books, notes, and empty cups, he tapped away at the keyboard. On the screen, a man lay dead. Many cheered at his demise, but I could only let out a sigh.
"What a waste... such a shame."
My deep breath carried a tinge of regret and emptiness. No matter how hard I searched, the answer eluded me, and my shoulders slumped.
"Is there really no way?"
I grumbled because his death felt so tragic. Arnold, the villain from the game Saint Academy. But he was a product of society's cruelty.
Why? Simply because he was born to wicked parents, people hated him. He hadn't lived badly at all. On the contrary, he tried to prove himself through good deeds, but rather than acknowledging them, folks turned even harsher eyes on him. It was as if, just for being the "son of criminals," everything about him was denied in blind prejudice.
What on earth were the developers thinking, creating a character like that? If they wanted a pure villain, they could have made him outright evil. If they aimed for a sympathetic figure with a backstory, they should have given him a shot at redemption. But Arnold was neither. In every ending, he died or vanished, meeting a tragic fate.
It had even been a hot topic in the community once. Complaints and outrage poured in nonstop: "What the hell were they trying to show with a character like this?"
"Poor Arnold..."
And I was one of them.
In the end, Arnold couldn't endure the unfair treatment, and his mind shattered. Swayed by the Demon King's whispers, he turned into a real monster, becoming the late-game boss. But even that was just as a pawn—he was brutally slain by the protagonist's party. It was enough to draw a heavy sigh.
He had lived honorably his whole life despite the misunderstandings, yet one single slip would forever brand him an eternal villain in people's memories.
What if I were Arnold—how would I have lived? The thought suddenly crossed my mind.
"Haa."
I rubbed my weary brow with a tired hand. The monitor still glowed, and I closed my eyes just like that. It was the aftermath of pulling an all-nighter on the game.
In the dim room, the familiar ceiling loomed above. I gradually let my consciousness slip away as my eyes drifted shut. But right before sleep claimed me, a faint light flashed against my eyelids—and that was the last memory I knew.