When Ash awoke, his mind was clouded with fragmented memories, leaving him unsure which were truly his. One thing, however, was painfully clear—the sharp, throbbing ache from the bump on his head. He jolted upright, gasping, his fingers instinctively pressing against the sore spot as he scanned his surroundings.
The room was small and modest, with stone walls supported by wooden beams, warmed by the faint glow of a low-burning hearth. Through a narrow, frost-covered window, pale morning light filtered in, casting a cold glow over the neatly arranged cots and folded linens.
After taking in the unfamiliar room, Ash ran a few tests to confirm he was awake, pinching himself and splashing icy water from a nearby tub onto his face. He stared at his reflection in the water—dark hair, youthful face, unfamiliar features. He couldn't help but make a few faces at the reflection.
He'd cleared Royal Affections more than ten times, gotten all the endings, even set a world-record speedrun at one point. He knew everything about the game. But who was the boy in the reflection?
"Am I a background character? A throwaway NPC?" he muttered, watching his reflection warp in the ripples.
Was I even in the game at all?
He sighed and stood, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be returning to Earth anytime soon. Crazy theories spun in his mind, each more impossible than the last. But before he could settle on any, something outside the window caught his attention.
Snowfall.
He was mesmerized as the once-falling snow accelerated upward and to the sides, creating an oval-shaped void where no snow touched the ground.
What the hell?
A sharp neigh broke his trance. He looked down to see attendants loading carriages, boxes and belongings in hand, preparing for departure. And there, commanding the scene, stood Genevieve.
With one arm extended, a faint bluish glow emanated from her hand as she casually wielded magic, shouting orders at her attendants. Her silver hair shimmered in the morning sun, cheeks flushed from the cold, her hair dancing lightly in the breeze.
Ash rubbed his temples, trying to ease the dull throb that persisted. His thoughts were scattered, half-rooted in confusion, half in disbelief.
Magic? Right...
But that didn't make sense. In the game Royal Affections, magic was more of a background feature. An occasional plot device, sure, but hardly the focal point. As far as mechanics went, it didn't matter. You didn't need to master spells or wield arcane forces to navigate the game. A few plot points had magical undertones, but it wasn't central to the experience.
After all, he thought, it's an otome game.
The focus was always on character interactions, choices, and the romance routes, not the mechanics of a magic system. It made sense back then. The game was notorious for its difficulty—brutally so. The writing was terrible, and the developer's laziness showed in the lack of care put into world-building and balancing. Yet despite all that, Ash and others couldn't tear themselves away from it. The sheer originality and challenge it presented were enough to hook them.
Even for someone like him, who wasn't interested in men or romance games, it was addictive. Speedrunning an otome game—it was laughable, but he had done it. Not for the story or the romance, but for the sheer joy of conquering something so poorly designed, where success often felt like an act of defiance.
As Ash watched Genevieve's display from the window, a strange mixture of admiration and dread washed over him. Despite everything, there was no denying her elegance, the effortless control she exuded. But that wasn't the point.
What really unnerved him was the memory of who Genevieve would become.
Genevieve Ornfell, the youngest daughter of the Ornfell house, was notorious for becoming the game's main villainess. Her descent from aloof aristocrat to vengeful sorceress was the crux of the game's darker endings. Players had spent hours trying to outmaneuver her cruel strategies and survive her wrathful endgame sequences.
She was... a little terrifying, Ash thought, his mood souring. Even worse, he knew those two figures standing obediently behind her. They hadn't been obvious at first, but now that his mind was clear, he recognized them.
Reese and Rowan.
A pair of siblings, cold and calculative, just like their mistress. Together, they were like Genevieve's hands, serving as her most loyal enforcers. In the game, they weren't mere NPCs. No, they had been some of the hardest opponents to defeat—puzzles with no clear solutions, constantly shifting allegiances and tactics that drove players insane.
Ash's stomach sank.
Why the hell do they have to be here now?
Suddenly, the door to the room creaked open.