Echo 1 – The Scent of Winter’s Breath. [12.0. Scarlet Requiem]
On November 25, 2024 By Fang Dokja In Arc 12. Scarlet Requiem
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Content & Trigger Warnings for “Echo 1 – The Scent of Winter’s Breath”
This chapter contains the following themes and content that may be triggering or sensitive for some readers. Please read with caution:
Trigger Warnings
* Foul Language: Frequent use of profanity, including insults and aggressive language.
* Sexual Innuendo: Light references and jokes involving sexual content.
* Mentions of Sex: Subtle references to sexual relationships and implications of romantic intimacy.
* Violence: Physical aggression played for comedic effect, including slapping and threats (e.g., “rip your limp dicks off”).
* Mild Misogyny & Gender Stereotypes: Characters use phrases and jokes that may reinforce gendered stereotypes or dismiss certain interests as inherently feminine.
* Fantasy Setting with Power Dynamics: Introduction of an immersive fantasy world with potential for unequal power dynamics and morally ambiguous characters.
* Body Transformation: Drastic, involuntary changes to characters’ appearances and physiques, which may cause discomfort or distress.
* Power Dynamics and Manipulation: A character exerts control over others in a way that could be perceived as abusive or unsettling.
* References to Objectification: Characters are objectified based on their physical changes and attractiveness.
* Implied Violence: Threats and expressions of anger hinting at potential violent retaliation.
* Mentions of Death and Mortality: Some characters express anger in ways that involve threats or hyperbolic references to harm.
* Emotional manipulation (characters’ roles force them into romantic scenarios they do not willingly consent to)
* Themes of dominance and control (one character imposes power dynamics on others for his amusement)
* Death references (some dialogue suggests thoughts or plans of lethal retribution in an exaggerated or satirical way)
Content Warnings
* Crude Humor: Characters use playful but crude banter and teasing.
* Reverse Harem Otome Tropes: Features exaggerated tropes of the genre, including romanticized characters, melodrama, and over-the-top scenarios.
* Satirical Tone: Depicts mocking or ironic perspectives on romance and fantasy genres.
* Light Psychological Stress: Situations where characters feel frustration, tension, or exasperation over their circumstances.
* Themes of entrapment and coercion (characters are stuck in a situation they can’t escape from without resolving the game)
* Dark humor (includes mockery, sarcasm, and interpersonal tension played for laughs)
* Violence (mentions of violent actions, threats, and potential combat sequences, though in a fantasy context)
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Status: Draft #1
Last Edited: November 26, 2024
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It was Friday night. The first night of Spring Break at Genesis University, and the trio of Deon, Reine, and Nagy were crammed into their shared dorm room, their collective chaos vibrating off the walls. The room was a mess—clothes thrown everywhere, pizza boxes from days ago half-full, and a lingering smell of stale energy drinks hanging in the air. The glow of the TV screen illuminated the otherwise dark room, casting eerie shadows on the mismatched furniture. It was the perfect setting for another one of their usual late-night gaming sessions.
Nagy, glaring at the game controller in his hands, was about to speak up when Reine groaned. “This is stupid,” Deon muttered, flipping a page in the book she had been ignoring, her disinterested gaze fixed on the text.
Reine draped himself across the back of Deon’s chair, arm casually thrown around her like she was a piece of furniture. “Boring,” he whined, his voice dripping with exaggerated melodrama. “Seriously, come on, doll, let’s leave this freak to his shitty games. It’s Spring Break. We’re supposed to be doing something… fun.”
Deon glanced up from her book, eyes half-lidded, bored as usual. “Fun? This is fun. Watching you two fight over nothing while I finish this novel. The only difference is that here, I can pretend you’re not wasting my time.”
Reine grinned, leaning even further into her personal space. “Oh? But I’m not wasting your time, am I, babe? You know you love me.” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, clearly expecting a reaction.
Deon didn’t even blink. “Sure. Right. If by ‘love’ you mean I’m stuck with you, then sure, I love you.” She returned to her book without a second glance.
Before Reine could shoot back another flirty remark, Nagy growled from across the room, setting up the game console with the intensity of a soldier preparing for battle. His emerald eyes flicked between Deon and Reine as if deciding if they were worth his time.
“Shut the fuck up before I rip your limp dicks off.” Nagy’s voice was dangerously calm, but anyone who knew him well would recognize the deep warning in it. His hands worked quickly to plug in the controllers.
Reine didn’t even flinch. “Geez, someone’s a little moody tonight.” He rolled his eyes, dramatically pulling Deon closer to him in an attempt to distract her from her book. “No need to get your panties in a twist, big guy. I’m just trying to make this night a little less ‘fuck my life.’”
Nagy’s face darkened, and he lifted a hand as if to smack Reine, but the other guy only chuckled, clearly unbothered by the threat. Deon, for her part, sighed quietly.
“This is a very sophisticatedly made video game, alright?” Nagy said, his voice rising in passionate defense of his pick. “Detailed and reasonable world-building, in-depth characters, a plot to literally die for. Have some class, peasants!” He shoved the controller toward Reine, who wasn’t taking the bait.
Reine groaned even louder this time, slouching dramatically as if the mere suggestion of playing a video game he hated was a personal betrayal. “It’s a fucking romance game. You don’t need to complicate it further. It’s the same shit over and over again. Boy meets girl. They kiss. They make out. They—”
Deon, in her usual deadpan tone, added, “Romance is dead.” Her blood-red eyes glanced up briefly, offering the comment like a personal fact.
Reine burst into laughter, clearly amused by their combined disdain. “Romance is just cheesy fantasy shit. I don’t understand why someone like you would be into this crack.” He flashed Nagy a mocking grin.
That, of course, was the tipping point. Nagy’s hand shot out faster than either of the other two could react, slamming into Reine’s head with the force of a freight train. The sound of skin meeting skin was almost comical.
“You uncultured swine,” Nagy snarled, his voice low and menacing. “I’ll kill you.”
Reine yelped in surprise, rubbing the sore spot on his head, though there was no real anger in his voice. “Damn, someone’s on his monthly period,” he muttered, winced at the growing bruise.
The remark, as expected, only earned him another smack, even harder this time. Reine yelped again, genuinely hurt by the raw strength of Nagy’s smacks, but still managed to keep his cool, even as his scalp stung.
“You know, for a guy who supposedly has the maturity to let others choose the games, you sure don’t know how to handle losing,” Reine grumbled.
Nagy just glared at him, face set in stone. “I’m choosing this game, and you’re gonna fucking play it, whether you like it or not.”
Deon, who had not moved an inch from her position, flipped a page in her book again, completely uninterested in the dynamic playing out between her two best friends.
After a brief silence, her soft voice cut through the air. “I have to agree with Reine this time.” Her tone was nonchalant, her eyes still locked on the book. “It’s not even good romance. It’s just cringe.”
The insult stung, and Nagy’s face twitched. Reine, for once, didn’t dare make any snarky comment. Instead, he reached over and ruffled Deon’s hair. “Damn, I knew I could count on you to betray him when the time came. You’re dead to him now.”
Deon merely hummed in response, her deadpan expression not changing one bit.
“This is why I never get to pick games,” Nagy growled. “You two are impossible.” He set his jaw, narrowing his eyes. “But I swear, this is the only time. The only time I’m picking, and you will like it.”
“I’m just saying, you’re really into this romance crap for a guy who could bench-press me while talking about how much he hates being a ‘romantic,’” Reine teased, rolling his shoulders as if stretching for the next fight.
“Fuck off,” Nagy snapped, before leaning forward and practically throwing the controllers at them both. “Let’s get this over with.”
Reine smirked, casually leaning back in his chair. “Alright, alright. But if I have to suffer through your terrible taste in games, you’re making us breakfast tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Nagy muttered, shaking his head in frustration, but his lips quirked up at the corners. “Fine. You two get breakfast.”
Deon, meanwhile, was already back to her book, and with a final sigh, muttered, “I’ll just pretend to be asleep.”
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The dorm room was dim, the glow of the TV casting flickering light across the scattered chaos of their shared space. As the game booted up, an overly enthusiastic jingle filled the air. Bright reds and sparkling whites exploded on the screen like a firework display, a delicate harp accompanying the overdramatic swell of violins. The words Scarlet Requiem scrawled across the screen in elegant calligraphy, framed by animated rose petals that fluttered as if caught in a soft breeze.
Deon’s expression darkened immediately, her tiny frame sinking further into the battered armchair. Her blood-red eyes fixed on the screen, her face a mask of mute suffering. If she wasn’t dead inside before, this game was certainly finishing the job. She muttered to herself internally: Just kill me now.
Reine let out an exaggerated groan, already leaning as far back on the couch as possible, his arms draped over the cushions like a king surveying a particularly terrible kingdom. “Oh, my God, I can already smell the estrogen through the screen.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Nagy snapped, his emerald eyes laser-focused on the opening sequence. He was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is art.”
The anime intro began with a flurry of cherry blossoms, a picturesque school courtyard fading into view. A blond-haired girl in a flowing red dress stood in the center, her eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. Around her, five absurdly handsome men posed dramatically: the aloof prince with blood red hair, the playful flirt with wild blue highlights, the stoic warrior holding a massive sword (shirtless, of course), the nerdy mage with glowing glasses, and the mischievous bad boy with a dangerous smirk. They each extended a hand toward her as the words “One girl’s destiny entwined with five star-crossed loves” flashed across the screen.
Reine rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head. “Oh yeah, this is definitely made for me. Totally relatable content.”
“Shut up, Reine!” Nagy barked, jabbing a finger toward the screen. “Do you even understand what you’re looking at? This isn’t just some lazy romance cash grab for kids—it’s Scarlet Requiem. Do you see those graphics? Those particle effects on the cherry blossoms? Look at the way they rendered her hair!”
“Oh, I’m looking,” Reine replied with a smirk, slouching further. “Looks like something my six-year-old cousin would have on her sticker collection.”
“You don’t know shit!” Nagy snapped, voice rising as his fanboying intensified. “This game is iconic. It’s a reverse harem isekai, but with a gothic twist. The MC is a girl from our world, reincarnated into this cursed empire where she has to unravel a deadly mystery while navigating her relationships with these—” He gestured at the five perfectly-sculpted men on the screen. “—absolute legends.”
Reine raised a brow. “Yeah, I’m sure ‘Pink Highlights McSimp’ over there is a real legend.”
“His name is Arcel!” Nagy corrected sharply. “And he’s a cunning spy who’s torn between his loyalty to the empire and his love for the MC. He’s complex, okay? You wouldn’t get it.”
“Oh, you’re right, I wouldn’t,” Reine said, biting back laughter. “I’m too busy having actual romances in real life. You know, ones that don’t involve pixelated sparkles and tragic violin solos.”
Nagy ignored him completely, his focus glued to the screen as the intro played on. The heroine turned, her tear-streaked face illuminated by moonlight as she whispered, “I will uncover the truth of this cursed land… even if it breaks my heart.”
Nagy exhaled sharply, visibly moved. “Do you hear that? The writing. The drama. This is next-level storytelling.”
Deon, still silent, watched with an expression that could only be described as ultimate cringe. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared unblinkingly at the screen. If she had the energy, she might have groaned, but instead, she remained a stoic monument to internal suffering. Her thoughts screamed louder than the violins: Why do I let these people into my life?
The screen transitioned into gameplay footage, showing the heroine interacting with the five love interests in lavishly rendered settings: a ballroom glittering with chandeliers, a haunted forest where the bad boy saved her from shadowy figures, a library where the nerd adjusted his glasses and blushed at her smile. Nagy leaned forward, completely entranced.
“The game’s dialogue choices are branching,” Nagy explained, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Each choice impacts the story, and the endings are tied to not only the romance but the political intrigue. There’s even a secret sixth love interest, but they only teased him in the trailer, so I don’t know who he is yet—”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Reine cut in, laughing as he shook his head. “You sound like one of those YouTube dudes who talks about why his anime waifu is better than real women.”
“This isn’t about waifus!” Nagy snapped, his cheeks flushing. “This is about art. You don’t have the range to understand.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Reine deadpanned. “I don’t have the range to simp over animated men in tight pants.”
“I will end you,” Nagy growled, his grip tightening on the controller.
Deon, finally, shifted slightly in her seat, her dead-red eyes never leaving the screen. Her face was blank, but the heavy sigh she let out spoke volumes. As the harp music swelled into a climactic crescendo, she thought to herself: Spring Break. I could be anywhere else. Anywhere.
But she stayed silent. Not because she wasn’t cringing on the inside—she was—but because, somehow, Nagy’s unrelenting enthusiasm made it impossible to completely hate him for it.
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The screen faded to black before illuminating with vibrant shades of red and gold. The title screen appeared in extravagant calligraphy: Scarlet Requiem. A melodramatic harp chord rang out as flower petals scattered across the screen. In the center, a single button awaited: START.
Nagy didn’t press it.
Instead, he set the controller down with a deliberate click and turned toward Reine and Deon, his tall, muscular frame casting an imposing shadow. His emerald-green eyes gleamed with something neither of them had seen before—a cold, calculating intensity. A smirk crept across his face, sharp and malicious, a stark contrast to his usual hot-headed demeanor.
Deon didn’t move from her seat, her tiny frame leaning lifelessly against the armchair. She stared up at him with her usual deadpan expression, her snow-white hair falling into her blood-red eyes like a curtain. Oh no. He’s monologuing.
Reine, sprawled across the couch with a casual arrogance, arched a brow at the sudden change in energy. “Uh-oh. Someone’s watched too many villain arcs,” he muttered, sitting up slightly. “Go on, Nagy, hit us with your big bad speech. Scare us.”
Nagy took a step closer, his voice low but dripping with menace. “You ungrateful bastards have mocked my taste in games for the last time.”
Deon blinked. Slowly. “…Okay.”
Reine grinned. “Damn, bro. That’s the best you’ve got? We mocked your taste? Next thing you’ll tell me is you’re gonna delete my save file in retaliation. Truly, the height of evil genius.”
“Oh, you’ll regret this,” Nagy continued, ignoring the sarcasm as his smirk deepened. He turned back to the screen, lifted the controller, and pressed START.
The room exploded in a blinding flash of white light.
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When Deon opened her eyes, she wasn’t in the dorm anymore.
The air was warm, carrying the scent of wildflowers and fresh grass. She blinked against the sunlight and realized she was standing on a hilltop, a massive tree towering over them. Its leaves were a vibrant crimson, fluttering in the breeze like fire. In the distance, rolling hills stretched endlessly, dotted with picturesque villages and castles straight out of a storybook.
“What the hell,” Reine muttered, already stepping closer to Deon’s side like it was instinct. His blood-red eyes darted around the unfamiliar landscape, sharp and calculating. “Deon, this doesn’t look like Spring Break, does it?”
Deon shook her head once, a small, almost imperceptible motion.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Where are we?” Reine asked, his voice quieter now. His hand instinctively reached for his weapon—his signature silver glaive—but his fingers closed around air. His eyes narrowed. “…My weapon’s gone.”
Deon, equally silent, flexed her hands at her sides, trying to summon her blade. Nothing. Her petite frame tensed as her mind quickly assessed their options. No weapons. Unfamiliar terrain. Possible hostiles. Lovely.
A deep, smooth voice broke through the moment, calm yet layered with a dangerous edge. “Ah, you’ve arrived. Splendid.”
They both turned sharply toward the source of the voice.
Standing beneath the crimson tree was a tall, elegant man dressed in a blend of noble and priestly attire. His short blonde hair gleamed like spun gold, his piercing red eyes glinting with amusement. His posture was composed, almost regal, and the faint smirk playing on his lips only made him more unsettling.
Reine and Deon moved in unison without speaking, backing away from the man and side-stepping closer together. Their eyes remained locked on the stranger, bodies tense and ready despite their lack of weapons.
Reine’s voice was low, his playful tone replaced by something steely. “Who the hell are you?”
Deon didn’t say a word, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied the man’s every move.
The stranger chuckled, a deep, rich sound that was almost mocking. “What’s wrong? You don’t recognize me?” He spread his arms wide in a grand, theatrical gesture. “Oh, forgive me for not introducing myself properly. I am Archbishop Velion, the High Cardinal of the Crimson Church.” He gave them an exaggerated bow before straightening, his smirk widening. “Or, as you two peasants know me… Nagy.”
Reine froze for a moment, blinking at him. Then, slowly, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What. The. Fuck.”
Deon tilted her head slightly, staring at Velion—Nagy?—with the same deadpan expression she always wore, though there was now a faint crease of disbelief between her brows.
“Surprised?” Nagy—now Velion—grinned wickedly. “I told you Scarlet Requiem was an experience. Welcome to the world of Vermillion Aria, the most immersive multiplayer RPG otome game in existence.”
Reine pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “I can’t believe this is my life.”
Deon’s tiny frame remained perfectly still as she processed the information. She finally blinked and thought, Kill me. Please.
Nagy—Velion—continued, his enthusiasm unbridled. “This isn’t just a game, you idiots. This world? It’s alive. Everything here reacts to your choices. The characters, the environments, the politics—everything is interconnected. And now, you’re a part of it.” His piercing red eyes sparkled with fanboyish glee. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Reine shot him a look that could curdle milk. “Amazing? I have no weapon, no clue where the hell we are, and you’re standing there like some discount anime villain. Yeah, totally amazing, bro.”
Deon, still silent, slowly raised a hand to point at the towering tree behind Nagy, her face blank but her eyes conveying one clear message: What is that tree doing here?
Nagy chuckled again, brushing imaginary dust off his robes. “That, my friends, is the Tree of Crimson Fate. It’s where the heroine begins her journey—and now, so do we.”
Reine crossed his arms, glaring. “Journey? Oh, no. I am not spending my Spring Break in some weeb hellscape. Fix this.”
Velion smiled wider. “Oh, but why would I do that? We’ve only just begun.”
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Nagy stood there, reveling in his new in-game appearance. He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, admiring the reflection of himself in the floating mirror that had materialized out of nowhere. His character, Archbishop Velion, looked like a blend of a high-ranking noble and a well-groomed priest, the kind of figure that would grace a medieval fantasy novel cover. His golden hair gleamed under the sunlight, and the intricate, flowing robes billowed with an air of superiority. His piercing red eyes were nothing short of mesmerizing.
With a dramatic flourish, Nagy ran a hand through his virtual hair, fixing an imaginary lock into place. He let out a low chuckle, tilting his head at the reflection once again.
“Damn, I’m sexy,” he muttered to himself, nodding approvingly. “I look like the kind of man who’d be worshipped in this world.”
Reine, who was still recovering from the shock of suddenly being in this bizarre world, turned his head with an exasperated expression. “Really, bro? This is what you’re focusing on? You literally dragged us into a game and all you care about is how pretty you look?”
Nagy flashed a toothy grin but didn’t respond. Instead, he waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing off Reine’s criticisms with an air of regal indifference. His gaze, however, lingered on Reine for a moment—his eyes gleaming mischievously.
“Alright, time to make some real changes,” Nagy said, raising his hand toward Reine like a conductor about to start an orchestra.
A series of virtual keys flickered and flashed in mid-air, like ethereal panels appearing at his command. He swiped and tapped at the air with delicate, yet practiced gestures, and a cloud of pink cherry blossom petals swirled around Reine’s figure.
Reine blinked. “Wait—what the hell—”
In the blink of an eye, Reine’s once muscular, tall frame began to change. His biceps shrank, his broad chest compressed, and his height seemed to dwindle before his very eyes. His body became lean, thin, almost frail looking. His once confident, imposing posture drooped like a deflated balloon. His muscular build was replaced with the sort of delicate physique that screamed “nerdy academic” instead of “playboy hero.”
And then the coup de grâce: his short, curly black hair was replaced with long white locks, now tied up in low-hanging braids, and on his face, perched delicately, were a pair of thick, nerdy glasses. He looked like someone who spent all their time in a dusty library, scribbling notes about arcane subjects. Instead of the handsome, self-assured womanizer he had been moments ago, Reine looked like a shy, awkward academic fresh out of his first semester at the university.
Deon, who had been silently cringing from the get-go, stared wide-eyed at the sudden transformation. Her eyes darted back and forth between Reine and Nagy, processing the implications faster than anyone could speak. Deon had seen her fair share of “bring-you-into-the-game” scenarios, but this was something new. Game Master. She had heard rumors about such things, but to see it in action… That was something else entirely. She couldn’t help but feel the wheels turning in her mind, analyzing every move Nagy had just made and the possible consequences of this “game” they were now trapped in.
Reine, still in shock from the drastic change, reached up to adjust his new glasses, his once suave demeanor completely gone. His eyes narrowed into slits, and his fists clenched as he glared at Nagy.
“What the hell did you do to my muscles?!” he bellowed, his voice dripping with indignation. His usual deep, commanding tone was now replaced with something decidedly less intimidating. He sounded like a kid who just got caught sneaking a cookie. “Why do I look like a fucking nerd?!”
Nagy, barely holding in his laughter, crossed his arms and grinned like the cat who ate the canary. “Oh, you peasant, you should be grateful I didn’t let you play as an old man!”
Reine’s face turned red as his eyes bulged. “Old man?! Do you have any idea how much work I put into this body?! I look like a fucking stick now!”
“You disgusting ape,” Deon muttered under her breath, still trying to process the surrealness of the situation. She couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for Reine. The transformation was so drastic that she wondered if it was a prank—except, it wasn’t. The game was doing this. And Nagy was enjoying every second of it.
Reine’s lips curled into a vicious grin. “Fuck you! I’d make a fucking hot DILF, okay? I could work with the old man look! But this?! What the fuck did you do to me?!”
Nagy tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “Oh, I’m sure you’d make a hot DILF—but you’re not getting that privilege, are you, peasant?”
Reine stepped forward, teeth gritted, his fists still clenched at his sides. “You better undo this right now, or I swear to god, Nagy, I will break every one of your bones by the time we get out of this godforsaken game. I’m serious.”
Nagy, utterly unfazed, leaned back dramatically and laughed loudly. “Oh, come on, Reine! Chill out! You look cute now. You’re the scholar of the group—learn to embrace your true form. You might even find a nice little nerdy girl to—”
“I swear to god—”
“Nope!” Nagy interrupted, holding up a hand as if he was an authority figure. “You’ll be lucky if I let you keep that look for long, Reine. It’s not even that bad. You could have been an old man with a cane!”
Reine’s face twisted in a mix of fury and disbelief. “This is the worst thing you’ve ever done to me, Nagy. You will pay.”
Deon, still deadpan and silent, crossed her arms as she stood back, watching the chaos unfold like a disinterested spectator. But inside her mind, it was a different story entirely. The implications of this game, she thought, her thoughts racing faster than she could process. This isn’t just about stupid cosmetics. There’s something much deeper at play here, something bigger than us.
“Well, enjoy the ride, Reine,” Nagy said smugly, tapping the air in front of him as if he were a master orchestrator. “You’re the one who wanted to play in my game world now. You’ll learn to love it… eventually.”
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Nagy stood, grinning like a madman, as he turned his gaze toward Deon, his fingers already itching to input the next set of commands. The air grew heavier, as if the very atmosphere had shifted. Deon, who had always been the stoic, deadpan figure, suddenly stiffened. It was rare for her to show any sign of vulnerability or discomfort, but the way Nagy was looking at her made her feel uneasy—like he was plotting something sinister.
She didn’t like it.
Nagy, seeing Deon’s sudden stiff posture, chuckled darkly, eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement. “Oh, you think I forgot about you?” His voice dropped to an almost sinister level, and for a brief moment, Deon’s usually unshakable composure cracked. She bristled, unable to ignore the coldness in Nagy’s tone. Something told her this wasn’t going to be a simple customization.
With a swift flick of his wrist, Nagy tapped at the floating air panels in front of him, a ripple of black smoke expanding like a cloud in the immediate vicinity. It enveloped Deon, and she instantly tensed, her body going rigid.
“What the hell…?” Reine muttered, watching as the smoke slowly dissipated, revealing… well, Deon.
But this wasn’t Deon. Not exactly.
“Nagy…” Deon’s voice was cold, but there was a tightness to it that betrayed her discomfort. The moment the transformation took place, the familiar heaviness in the air shifted, and she could feel the difference—feel it in the way her body had changed. She didn’t even need to look at herself to know that something had gone terribly wrong.
And then, just when she thought this nightmare couldn’t get any worse, she heard Reine’s voice—loud and incredulous.
“What the hell?! Why did you make Deon a sigma male?!”
Deon, already irritated beyond belief, rubbed her short black hair—her now surprisingly thick, short black hair—as she tried to push down the sudden urge to scream. Compared to her original, scrawny, sickly figure, she towered over the two of them now, easily surpassing their previous heights. Her physique was nothing short of terrifying—massive, bulky muscles straining against the tight noble clothing that barely contained them. Her chest practically peeked out from the top of the coat, her biceps bulging like the cover art of a bodybuilder magazine. Her thighs? Solid muscle.
Her face was handsome, but not in the usual dead, lifeless way she preferred. No, this new face was downright radiant—sharp features, a square jawline that looked like it could cut glass, and piercing purple eyes that practically glowed in the game’s lighting. And the best part? If you looked really close, you’d see an intricate pattern embedded in the irises—something distinctly not normal.
Deon wasn’t just tall anymore. She wasn’t just muscular. She was a walking contradiction to everything she had ever been. She could kill with a glance. Her new body was an unholy blend of raw, terrifying power and disturbing sex appeal. The kind of sex appeal that screamed ‘dangerous psychopath’, the kind of aura that would make anyone in their right mind take a step back.
“…Troublesome…” she muttered, rubbing her now-massive neck with irritation, feeling every inch of her new, absurdly muscular body. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t her at all.
“What the fuck?!” Reine yelped, stumbling back as he gaped at her. “Deon, what the fuck did he do to you?!”
“HAHAHA!” Nagy’s laugh was a mix of manic glee and smug satisfaction. “You can’t even hide your brooding face anymore, Deon! You look like you’re one wrong word away from snapping and killing everyone in the room!”
Deon’s fists clenched involuntarily. Her fingers twitched at her sides, tempted to reach up and claw at her face, rip the new, uncomfortable flesh off, tear it from her bones like it was an ill-fitting costume. Her mind raced, the weight of her transformation sinking in. She wasn’t an assassin anymore. She wasn’t small and unnoticed, blending into the shadows like she always had. This new body would stand out. It would demand attention. She couldn’t hide anymore.
“… Nagy, change me back,” she growled through gritted teeth, her cold glare cutting through him like a sharpened blade. Her fingers twitched again, this time with the urge to tear this whole world apart if it meant she could escape this nightmare. She was an assassin. Her advantage was blending in, becoming nothing, fading into the background, and now… Now she was this.
It was way too eye-catching. Way too much attention.
Reine, still reeling from the transformation, managed a weak chuckle. “I mean, I guess there’s no way to hide in a crowd with that body. You’re practically radiating ‘come fuck me’ energy now, Deon.”
Nagy, who had been enjoying the spectacle way too much, finally glanced at Deon with a new kind of look—a cold, calculating gaze, one that made Deon stiffen in a way that was rare for her.
Oh.
It wasn’t just the game anymore.
Nagy wasn’t just messing with them for fun. This was something deeper, something more twisted. Deon’s heart dropped as the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t just a prank. This was the beginning of something much worse.
And, like the sick bastard he was, Nagy whistled in admiration. “Wow, Deon. I really upped the sex appeal with you, didn’t I? You’re like a walking wet dream now. Seriously, look at you. This? This is a real power move. You’re the kind of guy who walks into a room and commands it to kneel.”
Deon’s left eye twitched. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. She rubbed her neck again, the sensation of discomfort increasing.
“… Nagy,” she warned lowly, as her sharp eyes glared at him, the dangerous aura around her growing stronger by the second. “This is not funny. Change me back.”
Nagy, in his usual smug way, shrugged and casually waved a hand in the air as if the game’s rules didn’t matter at all. “What? You don’t like it? Well, I did download the DLC for this, so you can’t really blame me. You just got the full ‘Sigma Male’ package, my friend.”
Deon stared at him, eyes narrowing with cold fury. “I’m not joking, Nagy. Change me back, now.”
But Nagy wasn’t backing down. His grin was dark, almost sinister. “Nah. I’m keeping you like this for a bit. You look like a villain, Deon. A walking sex-on-legs psycho villain. It’s hilarious.”
“You disgusting piece of shit,” Deon muttered under her breath, her fingers flexing. It wasn’t just irritation now. It was rage.
Reine, still trying to process the bizarre situation, turned to Nagy with an exasperated look. “This is the last time we let you pick for game night. You’re fucking dead, Nagy. We’ll make sure of it.”
But Nagy didn’t care. He was too busy basking in his twisted little victory, soaking in the reactions of his friends like an evil mastermind. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You all will get used to it. Maybe.” He winked. “Just don’t expect me to change anything back anytime soon.”
Deon clenched her fists, seething with rage. She didn’t care if she looked like the perfect weapon now—this was going to get ugly.
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“What?! You made me the second male lead?! The one who loses like 90% of the time?” Reine scoffed, arms crossed over his chest, his tone dripping with disgust. He shot Nagy an incredulous look. “Talk about petty.”
Nagy, unbothered by Reine’s frustration, grinned wide. “You deserve it, trash.”
“Well, fuck you too.” Reine laughed mockingly, leaning back against the hill with a grin that was all teeth. “Just wait ‘till I steal your girl. Sorry, bro, but I got a ton of experience under my belt.”
Deon, still standing tall and imposing in her new muscular, psychopathic villain form, sighed deeply. She stared at her character stats and role with a bored expression. “Wait, why am I the Villain?” Her voice, though flat, carried an unmistakable edge of annoyance as she casually examined the absurdly overpowered role she’d been saddled with.
Nagy’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the chaos he had brought into their lives. He glanced at the other two, smug satisfaction radiating from his every pore. “Ah, I see you’re finally looking at your roles. I thought I’d let you stew on it for a minute. Now, let me explain how this wonderful game works—Scarlet Requiem is an MMORPG otome game with heavy reverse harem elements. But here’s the catch, guys—we can’t escape until we reach an ending. Which means… we’re stuck here for the long haul. So, buckle up.”
Deon and Reine exchanged looks. Deon, her face still expressionless, seemed oddly calm, but anyone who knew her well could tell she was already calculating a hundred ways to slit Nagy’s throat. Reine, on the other hand, was eyeing the game screen like it was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with, but when he realized there was no escape, he muttered a resigned, “Great…”
Nagy, meanwhile, was practically bouncing with excitement, as he brought up each of their character profiles with a flourish. “Now, let me give you the rundown of your roles. Brace yourselves, boys and girls. Here we go.”
First, he pointed at Deon’s profile. The name Light Valor flashed across the screen in glittering gold, followed by a detailed description of her new role.
Light Valor
Archduke of the Crimson Empire
Role: The Malevolent Duke
Class: Sovereign of Ruin
Power: 10,000 (maxed)
Unique Trait: Sovereign’s Wrath—Deals lethal damage to any who oppose his rule.
Special Abilities:
* Ember of Domination – Control over fire, crushing foes with infernal power.
* Unyielding Resolve – Immune to most forms of magical influence.
* Imperial Command – The ability to command lesser nobles and soldiers with a single glance.
* Dread Aura – Causes fear in all enemies within a 50-meter radius.
Deon stared at the screen, barely able to keep her expression neutral. “…Great. I’m a Duke now. And a villain at that. Just perfect.” Her voice was full of dry sarcasm, and her sharp gaze fixed on Nagy. “You done? Or do I get to kill you first?”
Nagy snickered but ignored her. He swiftly swiped to the next profile. “Next up—Reine’s character!”
Silas Alejandro
Archmage Scholar of the Frostspire Magic Tower
Role: The Righteous Scholar
Class: Frost Mage Supreme
Power: 8,500
Unique Trait: Scholar’s Insight—Can learn and understand any magical text or spell instantly.
Special Abilities:
* Frozen Dominion – Mastery over ice and frost magic, capable of freezing entire landscapes.
* Crystal Shield – Can create impenetrable shields of magical ice.
* Arcane Wisdom – Provides buffs to all party members based on accumulated knowledge.
* Mind’s Eye – Can peer into the soul of others, seeing their true intentions and desires.
Reine blinked. “Wait, hold on—Righteous Scholar? That’s what you think of me? Are you serious?” He was clearly trying to hold back laughter, though the anger was bubbling beneath his sarcasm. “I’m the second male lead and now I’m a nerdy wizard? Where’s my goddamn sword and my six-pack, huh?”
“You really think I’d let you play as a hot hero?” Nagy shrugged. “Nah, you’re the nerdy one in this group. Now, be grateful you’re not the one with the tragic backstory.” He gestured to Deon with mock sincerity.
Reine’s face twisted. “I swear, Nagy, when we get out of here, I’ll—”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever,” Nagy interrupted, casually flipping through the game menus. “And now, for the pièce de résistance… me, of course.”
He pulled up his own profile, and the title flashed across the screen in gold letters with the grandiose flair of a true villain.
Velion Eleazar
High Cardinal of the Crimson Church
Role: The Holy Ruler
Class: Divine Arbiter of the Empire
Power: 9,500
Unique Trait: Divine Authority—The unquestioned ruler of the Church, can command divine power to smite foes.
Special Abilities:
* Holy Wrath – Summons divine flame to obliterate enemies.
* Divine Shield – Creates barriers of celestial energy that can block any attack.
* Infallible Judgment – The power to turn any dissent into unquestionable loyalty.
* Redemption’s Call – Can heal any ally near death with a single word.
Nagy grinned, basking in the glow of his own character’s power. “And this is who I am now, boys. The highest of high, the unassailable Archbishop of the Empire. Don’t even try to challenge me. I’m basically a god in this game.”
Reine made a strangled noise. “You made yourself the god of this? Of course you did.” His voice was dripping with bitterness. “I should’ve known. This whole thing is about you being extra, huh?”
Nagy raised an eyebrow. “Damn right, it is. If anyone’s going to steal the girl, it’s gonna be me.” He snickered under his breath. “I mean, who else has the power to do so?”
Deon, ever silent, just kept her eyes locked on the screen, trying to process her new reality. “So… let me get this straight. We’re all… love interests now?”
“Yep.” Nagy leaned back against the tree, his arms spread wide in mock innocence. “Us three are my star cast—the top-tier candidates for the heroine’s affection. Isn’t that just precious?”
Reine groaned, slumping against the hill. “You seriously made us all the love interests? Like some shitty reverse harem bullshit?”
“Yup, and guess what? You can’t escape until you reach an ending. So, if you want to go kill me, you’ll have to go through the entire game first. Better get comfortable, ‘cause this is your new life now.” Nagy’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement.
Deon gave a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “This is so stupid.”
“Agreed,” Reine grumbled. “But we can’t exactly kill you if we’re stuck here, huh?”
“Nope.” Nagy flashed them a wicked grin. “Guess you’ll have to suffer through this like everyone else.” He flicked his hand dismissively. “Now, let’s get started, boys. Time to woo the heroine.”
Deon didn’t respond. She simply stared blankly at the screen, her thoughts a swirling storm of cold calculation. This wasn’t going to be as easy as Nagy thought.
Reine, on the other hand, was already considering the endless possibilities for revenge. “You better be ready, Nagy. This isn’t over.”
Nagy just laughed, his dark amusement echoing across the virtual hilltop as he gestured grandly to the horizon. “Oh, I’m counting on it. Let’s see who wins her heart first.”
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