Qjiro Konoke was the living definition of indulgence. Money, women, and parties—he had it all, and he wanted everyone to know it.
Tonight was no exception.
The thirty-seventh-floor penthouse glimmered under the city's neon glow. Black marble floors reflected the golden fire of a massive chandelier. Empty wine bottles leaned like fallen soldiers on a glass coffee table.
A half-dressed woman in a silk dress fixed her lipstick. She glanced over her shoulder with a teasing smirk. "See you later, Qjiro~."
He lounged shirtless on a gold-trimmed couch, a cigarette between two fingers. "Don't get too attached."
Her heels clicked on the marble as she left. Qjiro exhaled a stream of smoke and turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window. He poured another glass of red wine, watching the city sparkle below.
"This is life," he murmured.
BANG!
The penthouse door slammed open, making the chandelier tremble.
Qjiro nearly spilled his drink. A young woman in a white wedding dress stormed in, her veil torn, her mascara streaked down her cheeks. She was trembling—not from fear, but fury.
"Today was our wedding day, Qjiro!" Her voice cracked. "And you were screwing someone else?!"
Qjiro didn't even blink. He leaned back, swirling his wine with infuriating calm. "Sweetheart, I told you I don't believe in marriage. You're the one who wanted the tragedy."
Her lip quivered. "You don't believe in love. You just use people. You consume the affection you don't deserve." Her fists clenched, knuckles white. "You… you bastard! I curse you—curse you to be surrounded by the love you crave but forced to repel it with every fiber of your being! You will be loved, but you will never, ever feel the warmth of that affection!"
The wineglass froze halfway to his lips. "…Wait, that's oddly specific."
But she had already spun on her heel and stormed out.
Qjiro sat for a moment, then let out a dry laugh. "Drama queen." He lifted the glass in a mock toast.
The city lights beyond the window blurred.
The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering. A searing, burning pain clawed through his chest like a vice. He gasped, staggering, knees buckling.
"What the… hell…?"
Cold marble met his cheek. The glittering skyline faded into darkness. His last thought before the abyss swallowed him was: Damn… I didn't even get dessert.
Rebirth: Ryu Drakheart
Light.
Pain.
Screaming.
Qjiro's mind swam. His body felt tiny, fragile, and utterly exposed.
A wrinkled midwife loomed above him, holding him upside down.
No way… No freaking way…
"Congratulations, Your Majesty," the woman said, smiling toothlessly. "It's a prince."
A tall man—his white hair framed by a stern, noble face—stepped forward. He wore gold-plated armor, and the gems in his crown glinted. He took the baby—Qjiro—into his arms.
"He shall be named Ryu Drakheart," the King declared, his voice echoing through the grand chamber.
Ryu Drakheart? Oh, hell no. I just reincarnated?! And as a baby?!
Then he saw her. The Queen. She was breathtaking. Her lavender gown shimmered. She took him from the King's arms and cradled him with a silent, profound warmth.
Okay, the adult soul inside the infant thought, momentarily distracted. Maybe there is a silver lining.
The Queen nestled him against her chest. Her love—pure, fierce, and maternal—washed over him.
BOOOOM!
It wasn't a physical explosion. It was the curse.
The moment the genuine affection touched him, the spot on his chest where his heart should be flared with white-hot agony. It felt as if a branding iron had been slammed against his skin.
Ryu, the adult soul, recoiled in visceral pain. The infant body stiffened, arching away from the Queen's loving embrace with a choked, guttural cry.
The Queen misinterpreted the rejection. "Oh, my poor boy," she murmured, clutching him tighter, her eyes full of worry. "Did the lights scare you?"
The added layer of worry and affection slammed into the curse again, doubling the pain. Ryu, unable to speak, could only thrash away from the most genuine, overwhelming love he had ever encountered.
This is it, he realized in horrified agony. The curse! It turns affection into pain!
And then, the real world caught up.
BOOM!
The stone ceiling above them finally did explode. Flames and stone rained down. Guards shouted. Servants screamed and scattered.
Through the smoke, a figure descended like a shadow ripped from a nightmare. Steel clashed. The King roared orders.
The Queen clutched Ryu tighter, trying to shield him from the danger. The act of maternal sacrifice—the pure, unselfish love—made the curse surge into an unbearable nova.
Ryu Drakheart's second life had begun, and the curse was already trying to kill him with kindness.