Right now, everything feels like a complete mess.
To put it simply—I reincarnated into a game I've played for six years.
Yeah, it sounds ridiculous. Believe me, I was just as shocked as you would be.
My name is Amemiya Ryoshu. I'm 22 this year. Before all this, I was nothing special—just an unemployed guy with no high school diploma, no stable job, and no real friends.
Oh, and to top it off, my girlfriend of five years left me for someone better.
Not exactly an original sob story, right?
Jokes aside, life hadn't been kind to me. My parents passed away when I was little, and my only remaining family—my younger sister—grew to resent me. When I dropped out of high school, our relatives told me they couldn't afford to support both of us, so I begged them to let her stay while I found a way to make a living.
But with no qualifications, finding a job was near impossible. The pay from part-time gigs wasn't enough to cover basic living expenses, let alone my sister's education. Every job application ended in rejection. Some employers didn't even bother kicking me out politely.
Then one day, everything changed.
That was the day Rainfall Disorder was released—a game that would shape the rest of my life.
An open-world RPG set in a modern fantasy world, Rainfall Disorder was more than just a game; it was a near-perfect simulation. The NPCs had unique personalities, lifelike interactions, and most importantly—only one life. Once they died, they were gone forever, permanently altering the storyline.
The game's absurd difficulty made it infamous. No matter how skilled you were, the ending was the same—total annihilation due to a world-ending disaster known as the Flood Myth. It took two years before a single player managed to clear the game. Even after that, new content updates, patches, and discoveries kept the community thriving.
I was one of the pioneers. A streamer from the early days, I gained popularity for discovering speedrun exploits and game-breaking shortcuts. My viewer count skyrocketed, my name became known among players, and for the first time in my life, I was more than financially stable.
I was able to pay for my sister's education. I built relationships with other streamers. I even met my girlfriend at a game event—it was love at first sight.
But no matter how much I loved Rainfall Disorder, I could never be the best player. My reflexes weren't fast enough, my hands weren't precise enough. Despite contributing techniques that cut nearly 10% off world record times, I remained just an "average" player, known only as the Pioneer.
And as the years passed, I was left behind.
New, younger streamers with sharper skills took my place. My audience dwindled, my influence faded. The once-loyal viewers who had followed me for years moved on to bigger names.
At my peak, I had hundreds of thousands of viewers—sometimes even a million. But now? I was lucky to get a few thousand. The revenue dried up... fast. I could barely pay rent.
Desperate, I tried everything. Selling game accounts, running a game service—none of it worked. Eventually, I had to sell my home and move into a cheap suburban apartment.
And then, the final blow—my girlfriend left me.
"I'm sorry, but I don't want to be poor like this forever."
I saw it coming. She was always cheerful, always kind—but in the end, she wanted a future I couldn't provide.
It wasn't her fault. It was mine. I had nothing to offer.
The world only respected the best players, and I wasn't one of them. Especially after Rainfall Disorder announced its VR adaptation, the top players were flooded with sponsorships and business opportunities. They were making millions.
Meanwhile, I was stuck in place—no, I was falling down quickly.
The VR version was set to launch in a week. But I couldn't afford the VR machine, let alone the game.
Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe it was time to let go of Rainfall Disorder and find something new.
But before that, I wanted to play it one last time.
No exploits. No shortcuts. Just the pure experience, the way it was meant to be played.
For the first time in years, I played Rainfall Disorder like I did in the beginning. Befriending NPCs, immersing myself in the world, reliving the nostalgia and all.
And then… I finished the game.
That should have been the end of the whole journey.
But when I opened my eyes, I wasn't in my cramped apartment anymore.
The room was unfamiliar—sleek with futuristic-kind-of aesthetics. I stumbled toward the window, only to be met with a breathtaking view of a high-tech city, filled with towering skyscrapers and neon-lit streets.
A chill ran down my spine.
"Why… does this city feel so familiar?"
Then, a small chime rang from my wrist.
I glanced down to see a high-tech watch I'd never seen before. A notification appeared in glowing letters.
"Invitation letter for admission to Spiral Academy."
I froze.
Spiral Academy.
The elite institution where the main characters of Rainfall Disorder begin their journey.
I looked back out at the city, the realization sinking in.
And then, with a bitter chuckle, I muttered the only thought that made sense:
"Yeah… I'm completely screwed."