To put it another way, Ethan Steele was not exceptional, at least not by any obtainable criteria.

He was 23 years old and lived in the middle of a metropolis that was always humming with the noise of traffic, blaring horns, and the occasional yell from a street hawker. He was surrounded by the sounds of the city.

To what end?

In any case, the most accurate way to characterize it is as painfully ordinary.

In his profession as a tech support specialist, he spent his days from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon looking at the glare of a screen.

He was responsible for resolving issues for customers who were unable to understand why their internet connection was down or why their printer had decided to stop printing exactly when they needed it the most.

In no way was it glamorous. It wasn't even thrilling, to say the least. The bills were paid, however.

Ethan once experienced a dream. Since he was a little boy, he had the dream of becoming an astronaut. His next goal was to become a famous rock star.

An investigator, and perhaps a writer of novels. In spite of this, those fantasies finally died out as a result of the unrelenting pressure of reality.

The rent was due every month, and the pursuit of crazy goals did not even cover the cost of the internet or the energy.

As a result, here he was: Ethan Steele, a technical support analyst, sitting in a gray cubicle that could have been his prison cell. He was fielding calls and putting out tickets.

Even worse was the condition of his residence.

It was a little place with only one bedroom, and the furnishings was outdated, and the sink was always dripping.

However, he did not mind; at the end of the day, he would just drop onto his worn-out sofa, switch on the television, and try to lose himself in whatever dumb show was playing on the television.

The weekends were his only opportunity to get away, and even then, they were packed with errands, housework, and the rare get-together with his old pals from college. That was his only getaway.

Nevertheless, Ethan was not in any way dissatisfied.

Perhaps his life was not what he had imagined it would be, but at least he was not starving and he was not living on the streets.

There were times when it was plenty for him. He was able to survive. He was a real person. And at times, it seemed like that was the most that anyone could do.

Up until the day that he couldn't.

When Ethan's life was abruptly and violently cut short, it was a Monday morning, just like any other Monday morning.

With his earphones in and music playing in the background, he was making his way to the workplace, his thoughts drifting to nothing in particular.

And then it took place. A loud honk, the scream of tires, and—all of a sudden—he was crossing the street. In the next moment, he was crossing the street.

That's it.

I couldn't even have the courage to shout. On the one hand, everything appeared to be normal, and on the other, he was suddenly overcome with anguish that was like pyrotechnics.

Thankfully, it was just a few minutes long.

The vehicle had appeared out of nowhere, and before his mind could even begin to comprehend what was taking place, he was engulfed in the blackness.

It was impossible for him to determine how long he had been unconscious or whether time even existed in that nothingness.

It may have been a few seconds, or it might have been an incredible amount of time.

At some point, however, he became conscious of something—no, someone—that was conversing with him.

"Ethan Steele," the voice echoed in his mind, calm yet commanding. "You weren't supposed to die."

As he drifted in that emptiness, Ethan was bewildered and completely disoriented. His thoughts seemed to be moving at a snail's pace, as if they were attempting to navigate through thick muck. Was not expected to pass away? To say anything like that was rather peculiar. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

"You met an untimely end. Your death was not part of the plan," the voice continued. "But I am here to rectify this."

Slowly, Ethan's senses seemed to sharpen. He wasn't in pain anymore.

In fact, he wasn't feeling anything at all, except the odd sensation that his entire being was suspended in some kind of limbo.

"Who… who are you?" Ethan managed to think, if not speak.

"I am the God of Fate," the voice answered. "It is my duty to maintain the balance of life and death, ensuring that each soul follows its destined path. Your death has caused a disruption."

That didn't sound good. Ethan still couldn't process everything that had happened—one moment he was on his way to work, and the next he was apparently talking to some kind of deity about how his death had thrown off the cosmic balance.

"What happens now?" Ethan thought, starting to grasp the reality of his situation.

"You shall be given another chance," the God of Fate said. "I will reincarnate you into another world—a world unlike your own. You will live a new life there, and when you turn seven years old, you will regain all of your memories from your time on Earth."

Then that was it? No negotiating, no passing judgment, and nothing but a blank slate?

Ethan was at a loss for words or emotions. When he was in this nothingness, he was unsure whether or not he could even feel anything.

He didn't know how to feel about a brand new world? It was comparable to something that might be found in one of those fantasy books that he used to read when he was even younger. Something about it seemed... intriguing, to put it mildly.

"You're serious?" Ethan's thoughts were racing now. "You're going to reincarnate me?"

"Yes. But be warned, your fate from this point forward will be shaped by your own choices. I will offer you no more guidance after this."

At that moment, before Ethan could give a response, everything reverted back to being black.

The moment he opened his eyes, it was as if he had just emerged from the most profound sleep he had ever experienced. However, there was a problem.

Since then, he had moved out of his flat and was no longer in his city. Additionally, he was not Ethan Steele, who was the technical support analyst.

He was a little kid named Alaric Steele, who was seven years old at the time. He was laying in his bed in a comfortable room that was small and contained a subtle aroma of wood smoke and new linen.

For the very first time since the vehicle had struck him, Ethan, or more accurately, Alaric, experienced the sensation of being able to breathe after a long time.

~~

There was nothing out of the ordinary about Alaric's new existence for the first seven years of his new life.

His birth took place in the kingdom of Loranthia, which was once a great house but has since been reduced to a modest estate in the countryside. He was born into a fallen noble family.

In addition to spending the most of his days working in the fields with the regular people, his father was a man who was strict but also extremely kind.

His mother, who was more delicate and gentler, managed the household with a serene dignity, despite the many situations that they were going through.

They were not impoverished, but yet, they were not wealthy. They were not accustomed to the luxury that noble families were accustomed to, and they led a life that was lowly and unassuming.

Alaric spent his days studying to read and write from the family's elderly tutor, an elderly man who had once been a scholar in the capital.

He also spent his time playing with the other children in the hamlet and running through the fields.

According to everyone, he was an extremely intelligent youngster.

Despite the fact that his powers were still in their formative stages, he was talented in magic and eager to learn new things. He was adored by the other youngsters, and the adults took the time to compliment his brilliance and interest.

But for all intents and purposes, Alaric was just like any other child.

He didn't remember his past life yet, and he had no reason to believe that he was anything other than a normal boy.

Even though there were not many servants remained in the estate, there were a few of them.

Alaric was regarded like a grandchild by Old Marta, who had been a member of the family for many years. She would give him extra bread or chocolates whenever his parents were not looking.

Finn, the youngster who lived in the stable, was a few years older than Alaric. He frequently served as a type of elder brother figure to Alaric, instructing him on tasks like as riding horses or climbing trees.

After that, there was Elira, who was the daughter of a local merchant who resided in the village that was close by. Having spent their whole lives together, she was one of Alaric's best friends. She had grown up with him.

Life was easy for seven years during that time. Calm and tranquil. The fact that anything was going to change was completely unknown to Alaric.

It was on the evening of his seventh birthday when everything came flooding back to him.

As was his customary practice, he had been playing outside that day, pursuing Finn and Elira while they were engaged in a game of tag around the thick grass.

It was just as the sun was about to set when Old Marta called them in for supper. They were laughing, they were out of breath, and they were covered in mud.

His evening went by as it normally did: he had supper with his family, then he had a nice bath, and finally he went to bed.

On the other hand, an odd occurrence took place that evening.

Alaric was lying in bed when he suddenly experienced a wave of disorientation that came over him. He was looking up at the ceiling. As his heart rate increased, he noticed that his eyesight become hazy.

After that, memories—no, his memories—came gushing back all at once, like if a dam had broken. Specifically, he is referring to his life before to this one, not his boyhood in Loranthia.

Every detail was etched in his mind. The flavor of inexpensive pizza on a Friday night, the monotony of the cubicle, the never-ending stream of phone calls, the streets of the city, and the city itself.

When he recalled himself, he was Ethan Steele, a young man of 23 years old who lived in a world dominated by technology and time constraints. The vehicle, the voice of the God of Fate, and the promise of reincarnation were all things that he retained in his memory.

It was a tremendous amount. He was attempting to reconcile these two lives that were now a part of him, and his mind felt as though it was separating in two different directions. But that wasn't the only thing on the table.

His recollections brought with them something else, something fresh and novel. A voice that was icy and uncaring reverberated in his thoughts, and it was odd and mechanical.

[Congratulations, Alaric Steele. You have unlocked the Harem God System.]

"What the hell?" While sitting up in bed, Alaric said something. Instead of being frightened, his pulse was hammering because he was completely perplexed.

The voice continued.

[Your current level: 1. To gain experience and level up, you must seduce women. Each successful seduction will increase your charm, influence, and power. As your level increases, so will your abilities. Welcome to your new life, Harem God.]

Alaric blinked, his mind still reeling from the sudden influx of information. "Wait… what? Harem God? This has got to be a joke."

But that is not the case. He was able to sense it. Neither a dream nor a delusion could have been this. Yes, that was true.

Somehow, in the cosmic shuffle that had delivered him to this new planet, he had been handed this absurd system—a system that was purportedly going to transform him into some sort of seduction master. He had been given this system.

And all of a sudden, Ethan Steele, who was just a regular person who worked in computer support, became aware of the fact that his new existence as Alaric Steele was going to become much more challenging.