Ren was 21 and proud of it—not because of any major achievements, but because he was perfectly content. While other guys chased relationships or tried to climb some career ladder, Ren was happiest lost in fictional worlds. To him, real life was background noise. Games were where he truly lived.
And his favorite? Realm of the Eight Crowns, a sprawling fantasy-romance RPG set across eight magical kingdoms. The game had everything: deep lore, meaningful choices, elemental powers, and unforgettable characters. His favorite part? The protagonist—a kind-hearted princess trying to unite the nations and protect her people.
She wasn't just a player avatar. She was the emotional core of the game. Ren had guided her through dozens of paths, watched her grow, watched her fall in love, make mistakes, rise again. He knew her story like the back of his hand.
But not every version of the game ended well.
One path—the darkest one—introduced a tyrant who shattered the world's balance: Princess Ash. Cold, merciless, and terrifyingly powerful. Ash only appeared in the game's "bad endings"—when players made too many wrong choices or ignored key moral decisions. Ren hated those endings. And he hated Ash.
She was everything the original princess wasn't—vain, violent, and cruel. A walking punishment for players who failed.
And so, of course, Ren avoided every route that led to Ash's rise. She wasn't meant to be the main character. She was the end boss.
Or so he thought.
---
One night, Ren was deep into another playthrough. It was late, and the castle theme music played softly in the background as he navigated yet another diplomatic decision. His eyes drifted shut.
Then everything went black.
---
He woke to warm light, soft pillows, and something distinctly not his room.
Ren sat up fast, tangled in pale sheets, nearly tripping over what he was wearing—a white satin nightgown. Confused, he stumbled across the polished marble floor to a full-length mirror—and froze.
A stunning woman stared back at him. She had long yellow hair like golden silk, super light pink eyes, and skin so pale it almost shimmered. But it wasn't the familiar princess he knew.
It was her.
Ash.
The cruel one. The tyrant.
"No. No, no, no—" Ren mumbled, patting down his body, trying to find some logical explanation.
The reflection was unmistakable. He was in Ash's body.
Except—he checked, awkwardly.
Parts of himself were still there.
Somehow, he was still physically male—partly. But to everyone else? He looked like the infamous princess who burned down kingdoms.
As if summoned, a pair of maids entered the room and bowed deeply.
"Good morning, Princess Ash. Shall we prepare your attire for today's council meeting?"
Ren blinked. "Council what?"
They looked up in surprise. "Is something wrong, Your Highness?"
He forced a weak smile and waved them off. "No, I'm… fine. Just… not a morning person."
---
Hours passed in a haze. Ren—now Ash, apparently—struggled to come to terms with the situation. He wasn't in control of the sweet, hopeful heroine he once guided through love stories and war.
He was the villain.
And he still had no idea why.
After dismissing the maids, Ash tried to dress himself and immediately failed. Nothing in the wardrobe was remotely casual. Just layers of heavy velvet, tight corsets, and gowns that looked like punishment. He picked the simplest one and gave up halfway through, asking a maid to help him into it.
His hair—long, yellow, annoyingly shiny—was impossible to tame. Eventually, a servant braided it for him. Alone again, he stared into the mirror.
The delicate features. The piercing pink eyes. The elegance he didn't recognize. This wasn't him.
It wasn't the princess he loved.
It was someone he despised.
He cried—quietly, angrily, confused.
---
Later, he wandered the halls of the castle, hoping to get answers, or at least distractions. He stumbled into the courtyard where a large crowd had gathered. A sword competition was underway.
There, in the center, was Liam. One of the romance options from the game. A former knight, now a duelist. Tall, strong, and serious.
Ren stepped closer, forgetting himself, just as his gown snagged on a stone. He tripped forward, stumbled into the open, and landed hard on his hands and knees.
The crowd gasped.
He scrambled up and bolted, face burning, gown ripped. Behind him, he heard someone call out.
It was Giovanni—another love interest. Smooth, clever, too observant for his own good.
Ash panicked and slipped behind a hedge, ducking into a servant's path and escaping through a back gate.
---
In the town, Ren had had enough of looking like royalty. He stormed into a tailor's shop, hoping for something practical.
No luck.
So he grabbed the plainest dress he could find, tore off the lower part, tied the sleeves behind his back, and turned it into a passable hoodie. It wasn't perfect—but it felt a little more like him.
Walking through the cobblestone streets in his makeshift outfit, he bought some bread from a bakery and headed back toward the castle.
On the way, he saw a group of thugs cornering a homeless man in a narrow alley.
Without thinking, Ren ran in.
"Hey!" he yelled. "Back off!"
Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the authority in his posture. Or maybe they just didn't want to mess with royalty. Whatever it was, the thugs fled.
Ren knelt beside the man and handed him the warm bread.
The man looked up, confused and grateful.
"You'll be okay," Ren whispered, pulling him into a sudden hug. "I promise."
The man didn't reply. But he didn't let go, either.
As the sun dipped below the rooftops, Ren—still trapped in Ash's body—looked up at the distant spires of the castle.
He had no idea how he got here. No idea how to get back.
But if this was still a game, there was one thing he did know:
He wouldn't play it like Ash.
He was going to play it his way.