A dull throb pulsed behind Lee Joon-ho eyes as he woke up.
He groaned, pushing himself upright only to freeze.
His feet should have met the cold, familiar floor. Instead, they dangled in mid-air.
Slowly, he blinked his eyes open.
The bed beneath him was enormous, far larger than anything he'd ever slept on and covered in pristine sheets so white they almost glowed.
He stared, disoriented, his thoughts scrambling for something that made sense.
"Did I get kidnapped?"
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Is it because I made that edit with the game character? No… nobody kidnaps someone over that. And this— he glanced around again, —this doesn't look like the accommodations of a hostage.
He lifted a hand to tug on his goatee, a nervous habit but his fingers met bare skin.
He froze and looked closer. His hands was rough and healthy in a way they hadn't been in years.
Adrenaline shot through him.
He lurched to his feet, misjudged the height of the massive mattress, and tumbled off the side with an undignified thud.
The door slammed open.
Several maids rushed in, skirts fluttering like startled birds.
"Lord Aizen!" they cried.
Hands immediately surrounded him.
"L-Lord Aizen, are you hurt?"
"Please don't move—"
"Should we call the physician?"
Half a dozen maids fluttered around him, lifting him to his feet, dusting off specks, and bowing.
Lee Joon-ho could only stare in confusion as they were addressing him as Aizen.
Aizen McKenzie, the name he was really familiar with and also the most feared noble in the game he used to play called Eye-Scream Joy.
The villain who ruined lives, manipulated kingdoms, and murdered him, Joon-ho, over and over in every possible route.
"I—I'm fine," he forced out, voice steadier than he felt. "Really. Just… dizzy. Leave me. I want to be alone."
The maids exchanged frantic glances, then bowed again so quickly their hair whipped forward.
"As you wish, my lord!"
They practically scrambled out of the room and soon silence fell.
Joon-ho exhaled shakily and turned toward the tall mirror beside the bed.
A cold, elegant reflection stared back.
Silver hair, crimson eyes, sharp features, intimidating even without trying.
There was no mistaking it.
"Aizen McKenzie," he whispered. "I'm really him…"
Just then, a translucent screen blinked into existence in front of his vision.
[ Welcome to the world of Eye-Scream Joy ]
Character Page:
Name: Aizen McKenzie
Class: Master Mage
Elements: Fire, Earth
Traits:
— Arrogance
— Opportunist
— Exploiter
— Prosperous
"Aside from prosperous, the others aren't flattering at all," he muttered.
Another notification popped up instantly.
[ Congratulations, your character edit was successful! ]
"Huh?" Joon-ho blinked, then felt the blood drain from his face.
Character edit... The mod.
Oh no.
During his playthrough, every time he encountered Aizen, he died, spectacularly, unfairly, repeatedly.
No amount of grinding, strategizing, or desperate praying ever worked and the game ended with Aizen always crushing him.
So Joon-ho downloaded a mod: a permanent mana degeneration effect, ticking down a little every single day so that by late-game Aizen would become weak enough to beat.
It was his revenge.
And now that cursed debuff was attached to him.
"Talk about shooting yourself in the foot…" he groaned, biting his lip.
He wasn't just stuck in the game.
He was stuck as the overpowered villain whose power was now slowly leaking away.
And he knew exactly how the story would end for Aizen McKenzie now.
A new window chimed into existence, flickering red at the edges.
[ WARNING ]
Your current mana capacity: 980 / 980
Daily mana loss: 10
Cause: Permanent debuff – "Mana Hemorrhage" (Player-applied modification)
Joon-ho's eye twitched.
"Oh great. Below a thousand already… At least that's three months long."
He paused.
"Three months until I'm a walking husk.."
But before he could wallow any further, the doors slammed open with enough force to rattle the vases.
A furious voice pierced the room.
"THIS is not how the head of the McKenzie family should be acting over a simple rejection!"
Joon-ho froze.
A woman strode in, long scarlet hair tied in a sharp ribbon, uniform crisp, eyes blazing with anger hot enough to melt steel.
She radiated authority and danger in equal measure.
He knew that face, he recognised that voice.
Veronica McKenzie.
Aizen's younger sister.
In the game, she was famous for two things:
1. Becoming a terrifyingly strong ally if the player handled her questline perfectly.
2. Killing Aizen McKenzie in one of the most brutal alternate routes if the conditions were right.
Joon-ho swallowed hard, throat dry.
She is a potential threat… a serious one. And judging by that expression—
His heart thudded painfully.
Maybe it isn't three months. My demise may come even sooner.
Veronica's glare sharpened. "Brother, are you listening? This behavior is unbecoming of the family head. To lock yourself away just because a woman rejected—"
Joon-ho lifted his chin slowly.
Something in him shifted, hesitation dissolving into cold calculation.
If he acted like himself, Veronica would sense something was wrong.
If she sensed something was wrong… he might not live to see the next warning screen.
He took a breath.
Then he looked at her with the sort of disdain only Aizen McKenzie could wield, sharp, lazy and completely effortless.
"Veronica," he said, voice low and cutting, "none of this concerns you."
He continued, tone like a lord addressing an annoying servant, "I don't recall asking for your opinion, nor do I require it. Leave."
Veronica opened her mouth, anger rising, clearly ready to snap back.
But then Joon-ho's eyes narrowed just a fraction.
Veronica faltered and her defiance flickered… then vanished as she stepped back in frustration and embarrassment.
"Tch… Fine." She spun on her heel. "But don't expect me to clean up the consequences of your actions!"
She stormed out, the door slamming behind her.
Silence settled again.
Joon-ho slowly let out the breath he'd been holding and turned back to the mirror.
Aizen's face stared back, composed, imperious, the very picture of a man who believed the world existed beneath his feet.
He studied the expression, the ease of that arrogance.
"…I should work on a cure, I suppose," he muttered. "Isn't one of my traits 'prosperous'?"