CH 0001 - From Reality to Royalty[0]

November 1, 2054, 9:04 PM— In a dimly lit office marked with the sign "404," the only light came from overhead fluorescents that flickered occasionally, casting a faint glow across the workspace.

Click-clack...

The soft mechanical clatter of a keyboard filled the air, creating a rhythmic background noise.

Seated alone at his desk, Elvis, a twenty-four-year-old with tousled hair and a weary expression, stared intently at the glowing monitor before him. His colleagues had long departed for the day, leaving him to make all the noise.

Games had always been his escape, his passion. But now, as a game developer, the thrill had faded into a daily grind of deadlines and bugs. The job that once promised creativity now weighed heavy on his shoulders.

"There's a saying, 'game development is all fun and games,'" Elvis once believed. The truth, however, was far from it.

Elvis was a talented game developer, but his skills had become both his salvation and his prison, trapping him in an unending loop of tasks and expectations, akin to a bug he couldn't debug.

"Arghh... if only I could be a prince in my next life," he muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.

"I bet princes have it easy. No deadlines, no debugging, just lounging around in luxury all day. Probably have servants bringing them food and a soft bed ready whenever they want." He let out a tired chuckle, his imagination drifting far from the reality of his cluttered desk.

With a dramatic sigh, Elvis leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms.

He imagined himself in royal attire, issuing commands instead of lines of code. "Yeah, a prince's life... just issuing royal decrees and attending lavish feasts. Maybe even sneaking in a nap or two in a bed the size of this office." He ran a hand through his tousled hair, the pale light of the monitor highlighting the dark circles under his eyes—a badge of honor from countless sleepless nights.

"But nope," he continued, "here I am, struggling with code and surviving on caffeine. While my imaginary kingdom flourishes, I'm stuck in this endless loop of tasks and deadlines." He chuckled to himself, knowing all too well that life as a prince might not be as easy as he imagined, but it was a nice thought during these grueling hours.

"This should have worked by now," Elvis sighed heavily, his fingers hovering over the mouse, hesitant to run the program.

After finally executing the program, he stood up and stretched his shoulders. He went to get a coffee, knowing the program was still compiling.

---

As he brought a steaming cup of coffee to his lips, he savored its comforting warmth and the rich aroma of roasted beans. The faint bitterness promised alertness, mingling with the aroma in a soothing way.

In that moment, Elvis felt a sense of relief wash over him. To him, coffee was more than a beverage—it was his shield in the war of tasks and deadlines, a steadfast companion keeping exhaustion at bay.

"If an apple a day keeps the doctor away," he joked to himself, "coffee keeps my exhaustion at bay."

But just as the liquid touched his mouth, his phone buzzed loudly, startling him. The hot coffee scalded his lips, and he winced, hurriedly setting the cup down.

"But it didn't shield me from the burn," he muttered, wiping his mouth with a napkin he took nearby. He sighed and reluctantly checked the message. It was from his team leader.

"Remember, tomorrow is the deadline for that."

Meanwhile, across the city, a content man lay in bed, his eyes closing as he prepared to sleep. Just as he was about to doze off, he picked up his phone and sent a message.

Back in the dimly lit office...

Elvis set his phone down after reading the message from his team leader. He wanted to curse but held back. The weight of tomorrow's deadline burdened his mind heavily.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Elvis felt the day's strain catching up with him.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, it was already 10 PM.

He waited anxiously as the program compiled, the time ticking slowly from 10 PM to midnight...

Despite his fatigue and the coffee, which failed to keep him awake, Elvis had been sleep-deprived for days, grabbing only a few hours of rest here and there.

As exhaustion took its toll, Elvis accidentally knocked over his cup. Retrieving it quickly, he tossed it into the nearby garbage can—he couldn't afford to litter. He returned to his chair, feeling weighed down by fatigue.

Feeling the exhaustion in every fiber of his being, Elvis slumped back in his chair. The screen before him blurred into a jumble of code...

There seemed to be an error flashing, but Elvis had already dozed off to sleep.

---

When Elvis realized he had dozed off, he jolted awake. "Arghhh, my head..." He clutched his head, a grimace crossing his face as pain shot through him.

As he blinked his bleary eyes open, he found himself in what seemed like a classroom. It wasn't the familiar dimly lit office or the compiled screen he expected.

The room appeared empty at first glance, the shapes and figures blurred by the remnants of sleep.

"Am... am I dreaming?" Elvis muttered to himself, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the fog that clouded his vision.

From the front of the room, a voice spoke, breaking the eerie silence. "Your Royal Highness, are you alright?"

"Your Royal Highness?"

"Who?"