Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 001
Chapter Title: It's Too Wasteful to Hand It Over to Some Other Guy
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It felt like a dream.
Or rather, this might actually be reality, but even so, there were two reasons I considered it a dream.
One was that these were memories from my past life.
The other was that there was no reason for me to abandon my status as a prince of an oil-rich kingdom and choose a life rotting away in a cramped room playing games.
Yet the scenes from the dream felt both familiar and vividly real.
It had to be because the memories implanted in my brain were resurrecting every sensation and smell from back then.
A dark room with the lights off.
The sticky dampness of the moldy floor mats.
The winter blanket soaked in thick cigarette smoke and the yellowed wallpaper.
The air in the room, who knew when it had last been aired out, was thick with the stench of mold. Instead of the long-dead fluorescent light, the only illumination came from a 24-inch monitor and the dusty PC tower connected to it.
Weeeeing~~
The aging PC tower's cooling fan groaned as if struggling.
But even without the headset on my head, I had no attention left to spare for that noise.
All my nerves and senses were focused solely on the monitor and my fingertips, which moved as if alive on their own.
On the screen, a tense battlefield unfolded in hyper-realistic graphics.
Against a desert backdrop, sand-colored buildings, burning armored vehicles, and the wreckage of shattered tanks spewed flames and black smoke.
One tank smashed through a thick iron gate blocking the way and burst onto the surface.
Kaboom kaboom~~!!
The moment it emerged from the hidden underground secret missile base, shells and bullets rained down from all sides.
Bang! Bang bang bang~~~!!!
I leaped from the exploding tank, sparks flying, and immediately raised my rifle to charge into the enemy lines.
The final phase.
The bomb was already planted.
As my fingers danced, the soldier I'd selected dodged incoming bullets and unleashed a barrage from his rifle.
Rat-a-tat~~ Rat-a-tat~~!!
The screen shook with the realism of the rifle's recoil. Amid flying shell casings, every ricochet marked the spot where blood burst from the heads of enemy soldiers hiding behind cover.
Up in the top right of the screen.
The kill count I'd racked up ticked steadily upward.
121. 122. 123.
I'd flown in a fighter jet,
parachuted in,
planted the bomb in the enemy's nuclear missile base,
and stolen an enemy tank to break through their lines.
Now I just needed to punch through the final encirclement and board the helicopter on the far side.
But the AI controlling the enemies was putting up a desperate last stand, endlessly throwing troops at me.
The chopper was about 50 meters away.
If I dawdled any longer, I'd be swarmed and killed by the horde.
I didn't want to hit save after coming this far.
I'd see it through to the end.
To sprint full tilt, I swapped the rifle for a pistol. It'd double my movement speed.
One dash to break through.
The character gripped the pistol and vaulted over cover, breaking into a run.
In that instant,
enemies popped up from the surrounding wreckage and buildings, unleashing a storm of rifle fire.
Rat-a-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat rat-a-tat-tat~~~!!!
Bullets whistled from all directions, fragments and rounds kicking up wildly from the ground and cover.
Zigzagging without slowing down, I hugged the terrain features I'd memorized, minimizing my exposure as I ran.
That's when I spotted a jeep speeding toward the attack helicopter from the distance. If those guys arrived, the path would be blocked.
Instinctively, my left fingers hammered the keyboard.
Whoosh.
The pistol holstered, and the long sniper rifle's barrel snapped forward.
Click!
The screen switched to sniper view in an instant, following my dancing fingers.
But my fingers were faster than my eyes.
The moment an enemy aligned in the rifle's crosshairs,
I clicked the mouse. The character on screen pulled the trigger.
Bang!
No time to confirm the enemy's head exploding backward—I swapped back to pistol. My speed recovered from the brief delay, and I charged on.
Then my fingers danced across the keyboard again, alternating rifle and pistol. Move, snipe, move, snipe, move.
Between the flashing screens, I planted rounds in the heads and chests of soldiers trying to block my path.
Click click click bang! Click click click bang! Click click click bang!!
In a flash, I'd cleared all the threats.
Finally, I hurled myself at the lone helicopter on the landing pad.
The screen transitioned.
The helicopter cockpit was rendered with stunning realism.
The realistic military action game, Call of Destiny, had earned fame for perfectly replicating real weapons—even the cockpits of the latest Russian and American fighters down to 99% accuracy.
Even the startup sequence.
Perfectly simulated—you had to follow the actual helicopter startup procedure, pressing buttons and pulling levers.
The chopper I'd boarded was the Soviet masterpiece, the Mi-24 Hind, nicknamed Satan's Chariot.
An old Soviet attack helicopter, but thanks to dozens of tutorial runs, I started it up smoothly.
Weeeing~ Weeeing~ Whir whir whir whir~~ Vroom vroom vroom~~~~
The rotors spun up.
I gripped the stick with mouse and keyboard.
The screen slowly lifted off.
The moment the helicopter rose into the air, I yanked the stick hard to the side.
Weeeeing~~~!!
Pssshhhh~~~~!! Kaboom boom boom~~!!
An RPG-7 rocket streaked past with a long smoke trail, slamming into the building behind and exploding.
Like I'd fall for that twice. Damn bastards.
Having dodged the rocket mid-takeoff, I soared over the battlefield, then whipped the nose around toward the enemy soldiers firing machine guns and rifles from the ground.
And without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
Brat-brat-brat-brat-brat-brat-brat-brat-brat~~!!
The 12.7mm Gatling gun spat fire.
A heavy curtain of bullets stitched across the ground and cover on buildings.
Papapapapapapap~~!!
Where the bullet lines carved through, the earth cratered, concrete shattered, and vehicles tore apart like paper.
I could almost hear the screams outside the monitor.
I banked again, launching 30mm rockets at the rooftop where enemies had climbed.
Shoo! Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!
The rockets streaked with flames, smashing into the roof and walls.
Kaboom boom boom boom~~~!!!
Flames erupted, debris and smoke clouds engulfing everything.
Enemies flung from the blast soared through the air before plummeting down.
I poured on the firepower, maxing out the top-right kill count.
165, 166. 169...
The moment it surpassed 177,
A warning flashed on the left side of the screen.
Red alert with a countdown.
30. 29. 28.
Too bad.
Wanted to hit 180.
I spun the Hind around and floored it toward the base exterior at max speed.
The Hind's top speed of 500 km/h covered 5 kilometers in mere seconds.
And just as the counter hit zero.
Switching views to the helicopter's rear,
A blinding flash from the receding missile base, followed by a massive explosion that shook the screen.
The shockwave from the underground blast rocked the 10-ton heavy chopper seconds later.
Rumble rumble rumble~~~~.
Beep beep beep beep~~~!!
Amid the blaring alarms and shaking cockpit, I finely adjusted the mouse to steady the stick.
About 30 seconds later, the explosion's aftershocks faded.
A massive mushroom cloud rose behind the screen.
Mission clear.
One of the world's axes of evil.
I'd successfully planted a bomb in Iran's secret nuclear base and destroyed their freshly made warheads and remaining nuclear materials.
Once again, I'd saved the world from Iran's nuclear threat.
But...
Is it really okay for me to be doing this?
I glanced back for a moment.
That...
Should've been mine.
No, it will be mine.
Why the hell am I doing this insane crap?
I woke up with those thoughts.
What I saw before me was luxurious wallpaper.
And behind me, the plush feel of a high-end mattress.
Unlike the past life from my dream,
where I lay on damp floor mats,
now I rested on a top-of-the-line mattress worth 100 million won.
I rubbed my dry face with my hands and sat up.
Even from the king-sized bed in the center, I had to squint to make out the far wall.
This one room was big enough to fit several of my old ones.
I slipped my feet into the designer slippers on the floor
and padded across the 60-million-won Turkish rug to the window.
Sensing my approach, the window's sensor drew back the massive curtains.
Beneath the wide-open window,
under the vast sky, stretched New York's skyscrapers and Central Park.
I stared at the scene, drifting between reality and dream.
Which one was the dream?
Just then,
a knock came from outside the room.
Knock knock knock.
I knew who it was without asking.
"Come in."
I replied, and moments later.
Click.
The man who entered had brown skin, black hair, a bushy beard, and thick double eyelids. A man in his early thirties approached carrying a tray in both hands. He knelt beside me and offered up the tray.
"Your Highness. Your morning tea."
I turned and lifted the teacup from the tray.
And absentmindedly asked,
"Hassan."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Who am I?"
The servant Hassan, accustomed to such things, answered reflexively.
"The youngest son of Shahanshah Reza Pahlavi II of the Kingdom of Iran, and the kingdom's youngest prince. His Highness Prince Sahour Reza Pahlavi."
That's right.
One day, after living like mold stuck to the floor of my room as a gaming shut-in, I opened my eyes in bed to a new life.
The youngest prince of the oil kingdom, Iran.
That's me.
And right now, it's 1978.
One year left.
In one year, the Kingdom of Iran will fall to the Iranian Revolution.
"Born as a prince of an oil-rich kingdom that everyone dreams of..."
I brought the teacup to my lips and finished the thought.
"It's too wasteful to hand it over to some other guy."