Something Went Wrong (1)
“Everyone except this one—clear them out.”
Elijah said that and turned away.
“……”
The area around me buzzed with chaos. My head was the same.
A knight hauled me to my feet. For some reason, his grip on me had grown careful.
Status Window now accessible.
View it?
Another layer of confusion piled onto the mess already swirling in my mind.
I agreed without thinking.
Name: Judas Defecit
Age: 13
Origin: Slave
Stamina: 7.2
Strength: 5.1
Agility: 11.6
Traits: Silent Footsteps, Weaponization of Objects
A familiar Status Window. I'd played this game for over 8,000 hours—a game that had now become my reality. I'd started as countless characters.
Stats and traits like a petty thief type. Must've lived rough on the streets.
I analyzed it reflexively.
“Judas.”
A heavy voice snapped me out of it. It was Gawain. He scratched his forehead, clearly flustered.
“…Candidate selection: pass. Follow me.”
I glanced around without meaning to. Dozens of applicants besides me had been cut on the spot.
Why did this happen?
I really had no idea….
I sorted through the situation as I followed Gawain.
I've become a candidate for Elijah's guard knight.
The infamous villainess who would one day slaughter her entire family. After conquering her house, she became a mad psychopath reveling in evil deeds and murder.
Elijah di Bebel. The direct youngest daughter of the Bebel Ducal House, no less.
The Bebel Duchy was famous in this world—but for all the wrong reasons. Her parents were as deranged as she was, and the duchy they ruled had soaked up that madness. It was a haven for power-hungry, money-obsessed scum. No one knew how many major continental crime syndicates had bases here. Outside the key cities, law and order were a joke, but Elijah's father, the Grand Duke, didn't care. He knew how to exploit the underworld's filthy cash.
Some called him the emperor wearing a black crown. The current imperial emperor had ascended through pure, legitimate means. The Grand Duke stood on the opposite end.
And Elijah had inherited that nature in full. No—she surpassed it. Highborn lady through and through.
Which meant her guard knights weren't chosen lightly. They endured grueling trials. Only those who passed the final gate could serve as Elijah's guards.
Plenty of fierce competition too.
Even if it was a house of villains, the Bebels were global tycoons and power brokers. For those starting from the bottom, it was a golden ticket, dirt be damned.
I know it's a one-way ticket to hell, but…
Somehow, I'd become a candidate. Normally, Elijah just glanced over the applicants and moved on. Knights handled the basic culling with simple tests. No direct involvement from her.
At least, that's how I remembered it.
Did I catch her weird tastes…?
I still had a chance to bail. As a candidate, I just needed to underperform enough to wash out. Later, I could even quit voluntarily. There were paths besides becoming her guard—like joining the duchy's military or, if I shone, serving as a direct knight of the ducal house, like those beside Gawain earlier.
Not great options. Best is to escape the Bebel Duchy altogether. One thing's certain: I cannot become Elijah's guard knight. That's a 100% death sentence.
Could I go back? No clue. With a noose around my neck, there wasn't time to figure it out.
Come to think of it, how old was Elijah now? Knowing that would tell me how many years before the game's timeline. Did she already have any final-pass guards? She wouldn't settle for just one.
As my thoughts wandered, Gawain stopped.
“This is your dormitory from now on. You'll train here with the other intakes, sharing the space. Understood?”
“…Yes.”
“Hm. Looks like you were sold into this against your will, a slave dragged in chains.”
I didn't answer because I wasn't sure. Probably right, though.
“Not here by choice, I get it. Resentful, wronged, cursing the world—natural.”
His tone was surprisingly gentle, understanding, considerate. Maybe my expression had soured him into consoling me.
“But.”
It was an act. His voice dropped low and grave.
“Now that you're an official candidate, you'll conduct yourself properly before the lady. Show that defiance again, and I'll ensure you never feel wronged for the rest of your life.”
He meant he'd kill me. Or leave me close to it. Either way, same difference.
“…I'll keep that in mind.”
“Cheeky brat, but quick on the uptake. Well, look on the bright side—it's a chance. To dare become Elijah's guard knight.”
Easy for you to say. You don't know her future.
“I don't know what she saw in you, but that bold, arrogant air isn't bad. Brutal days await, starting now.”
Guard selection was a bloodbath. Every trial cutthroat. Meaning the mind games between candidates were vicious.
Gawain opened the dormitory door. A plain rectangular building, four stories. Clean, nothing special.
I followed him past the entrance.
“Room 13. This 12-man room is yours.”
He shoved my back. Six bunk beds lined up. Two candidates stood rigidly before each, at perfect attention, eyes forward.
What the… feels like the army. Oh.
“Attention.”
Gawain spoke, and the candidates bellowed in unison.
“Attention!”
“13th intake candidate, Judas Defecit. Your new comrade—treat him well.”
“Yes!”
“Squad leader?”
“Yes! 6th intake, Dillon!”
“Brief him on the basics.”
“Yes, sir!”
Gawain murmured low in my ear.
“Welcome to the House of Bebel.”
For some reason, it sounded like a death sentence.
Gawain left the room. It stayed dead silent until his footsteps faded.
Everyone in Room 13 watched me, lips sealed. Stiff faces, piercing stares. The pressure was intense.
I held my rigid pose, staring ahead. From the corner of my eye, I sized them up.
Wide age range.
From an 18-ish young man to kids my age. The squad leader, Dillon, was in the older group.
Time for them to speak up, but they didn't. The silence and stares tightened like a noose.
Familiar. This was a first-meeting power play. Showing this place wasn't soft.
An old army saying fit: Don't stand out.
Good or bad, drawing eyes meant trouble. In a group of ten, aim for middle of the pack—fourth place. Worked in any communal setup, army or not. Unless there was a reason, blending in was best.
Of course, I never managed it. I'd decked abusive seniors who beat underclassmen and extorted cash. Tossed college upperclassmen who hazed freshmen for no reason.
Guess I wasn't wired to stay quiet. Plus, back then, I could protect myself.
Not now. Just 13, scrawny kid. One punch from that Dillon guy, and my jaw would spin.
And common sense here was different. A world steeped in murder and violence. The worst of it: Bebel Duchy guard candidates.
Screw up, and they might kill me.
Lay low for now.
Time dragged.
“Impressive.”
Dillon smirked.
“First newbie this bold. Fitting for the sole 13th intake passer.”
Oh shit. Sole survivor after everyone else got axed. Impossible not to stand out.
“Room 13 squad leader, 6th intake Dillon.”
“13th intake Judas.”
“Good posture. That why you caught the lady's eye?”
No idea. From what I knew, Elijah hated people who talked back to her.
“First off…”
Dillon eyed me up and down.
“You need a wash.”
Same thought. Rags for clothes. Body reeked from lack of bathing.
“I'll show you the bath. Follow.”
Unlike the army, no fixed shower times. Lucky break. Twice in life was enough for regimented living: military, then college training camp.
The communal bath was spotless. Gleaming floors and walls, humid air, high windows.
I turned on the shower and checked the mirror. First time seeing my face here.
Untended black hair, a mess. Beastly golden eyes. Rough upbringing showed in my sharp kid features. Gaunt body, ribs protruding.
Hit me late: I'd been dragged to some bizarre world. Not Korea.
“What a mess…”
One more realization. I'd been speaking a language totally unlike Korean. That curse just now was my first Korean here.
So natural, I hadn't noticed.
“Hoo…”
I sighed deeply while washing my face. Could I go back? No idea. Even with 8,000 hours in this world as a game, I knew zilch about returning to Korea.
Survive first.
If I had to live here, fine. No other roads.
Priority: escape Elijah's clutches. And the Bebel Duchy.
This world had spots kinder than Bebel. Peaceful havens aplenty.
If possible, don't stay in the Bebel Duchy.
Washed up, changed into rough spares. Finally looked human.
Stepping out, unease hit. The whole dorm felt frozen solid, silent.
No Dillon waiting either.
Where'd he go?
Headed to Room 13 first. Shaking wet hair, the source of the weirdness clicked fast.
Every candidate was lined up outside against the walls. A uniformed knight stood watch before each group. They clamped mouths shut like blades at their throats. Just stared holes through me, the lone mover. Even the overseeing knights.
What the hell…
Soon found out.
Room 13 front—like everywhere—full lineup outside. Dillon too.
And before them.
“There you are.”
Elijah. Same ornate dress as before.
Candidates averted eyes skyward, not daring to look at her. I froze, stuck.
Seems like she's here for me…
Why?
Elijah ignored my confusion.
“Follow.”
She commanded and strode off without checking if I trailed.
As she turned, the sky-gazing candidates' eyes snapped to me, glaring. What the fuck?
I dunno either…
Elijah led outside the dorm to a cozy building's parlor.
“Sit.”
A maid pulled out a chair as Elijah ordered. Opulent enough sitting felt criminal.
I eased into the seat opposite, cautious.
Elijah stared blankly.
“I said sit on the floor.”
“……”
“Fascinating. Never thought someone would sit eye-level with me.”
She spoke like observing a rare beast's odd trick.
I started sliding off stealthily.
“Never mind. Stay.”
Willful as ever, even young.
The maid brought hot tea and sweets.
“Eat.”
Elijah said flatly.
Staring so intently in that prim pose—who'd eat? Especially with all these servants behind her.
But I did. Wasn't the type to care.
Besides, this Judas kid was starving, matching his bony frame.
“Thank you.”
Warmed my gut with hot tea first.
“…He really eats.”
I wasn't oblivious, though. She had a reason to summon me.
Set the cup down and asked.
“So, what did you need me for, my lady?”
“Who knows.”
Ah. That selfish rhetoric. Same now as grown-up.
Makes me wanna flick her forehead.
But hold it. She was master, I was servant. If she added “just 'cause I feel like killing,” I'd have to die.
“You could've sent for me instead of waiting.”
“Just did.”
Elijah glanced out the window.
“Never had someone make me wait before. Curious.”
No. You just waited. Did I make you?
Wanted to argue, but swallowed it and apologized. Keeping a noble lady waiting was a crime here.
“My apologies.”
“Mm. …Truth is, I haven't decided what to do with you yet.”
Nearly bit my tongue instead of the snack.
“Daring not to kneel before me. Boldly meeting my eyes.”
Elijah enunciated carefully. Scolding, but emotionless, flat. Like a talking doll.
“You, sitting level with me. Kill or spare? Haven't settled it.”
I forced down the candy. Glad it didn't choke me.
Finally, Elijah smiled faintly.
“What should I do?”
The future continent-shaking villainess asked, holding my life in her hands.