Jericho took a deep breath.
"Okay. Calm down. Let's think this through."
First, he was inside Alchemia Tale. That was a fact. And not just as anyone, but as Jericho Vaun Ashenwald. The infamous loser of the academy arc.
He still remembered so much of the game. How could he not? He'd poured hundreds of hours into it, rerunning story branches, unlocking events, testing builds.
It wasn't just a fantasy game, it was a romance-driven, choice-based story game, where every major event could shape the future of the characters and the kingdom.
You played as Shin, the hero, and depending on what decisions you made during specific scenes, you'd unlock different character paths, romantic arcs, and secret content.
Like that one early scene, if you stayed behind at the academy when the childhood friend received a strange message, you'd discover Jericho sneaking in, trying to get revenge on Shin by assaulting her.
Saving her not only gave you massive affection points, it also made you feel heroic as hell.
Jericho closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, rising his eyebrows in despair.
"What a monumental shit..." he muttered.
He'd loved that scene. It was cinematic. Righteous.
Now he wanted to punch a wall, because now he was Jericho. That scene was probably still in the past, already done. He was already hated. Already branded.
"... Breathe."
Second, the game world. It was split into four major arcs: The Monster Invasion, The Mad Teacher, The Revolution, and finally, The Rise of the New Demon King.
Each arc had branching scenarios depending on what you triggered. Some paths could unlock huge payoffs. Others got you stabbed in the spleen.
Point was, this world was already headed straight into the blender, and nobody had realized it.
He crossed his arms.
Each arc had been a nightmare to play through. The last one? So brutally emotional and difficult, half the player base rage quit.
People came for the harem dating sim vibes and stayed because they got trauma-bonded to a mage who kept getting stabbed, an alchemist who lost her joy and accepted being a weakling or a childhood friend who was ignored by the MC despite being loyal to him.
Yeah. Alchemia Tale was awesome. But it was not fun to live in.
And the worst part? Near the end, you had to choose one girl and break hearts.
He usually went for the childhood friend. It felt fair, logical.
But now?
He raised a brow.
Why the hell was he even thinking about that? He wasn't Shin. He wasn't the Savior, The Chosen Heir, Fated Hero of Light, Magnetic Chick Magnet of the Western and Eastern Chicks.
He was just Jericho. And Jericho gets no girl.
In the grand symphony of destiny, he was a background flute at best.
He paused, the thoughts weighing heavily on him.
Everyone dreams of being isekai'd into their favorite game. Living their fantasy. Becoming the main character.
But nobody dreams of becoming the disposable jerk. Worst if everyone already hates you before you could learn how to breathe.
What could he even do? He wanted to do something cool. Something important. But in this story? People were programmed... or rather born to be special. Elemental bloodlines, divine talents, secret powers. Prodigies of magic, sword saints in the making.
Jericho? He had nothing. No rare blood. No secret power. Not even a special case of no power.
He was just your average Joe. A boring noble. Not mysterious. Not secretly powerful. Just average and forgettable.
He tightened his eyes shut.
The devs really made this guy the definition of L. And now, that L was his life.
Trying to get strong in this world? Pointless. Suicidal. Let the golden boy and his cheat bloodline handle all that while Jericho would chill at home.
Then a spark in his mind.
Jericho blinked. His mind paused, backpedaled, and quietly replayed what he just said.
Chilling... while the hero suffers.
He stared into the void, then slowly nodded to himself.
"...Wait a second. That doesn't sound bad."
A smirk formed in the corner of his lips as he leaned back against the bench.
Let Shin run around saving damsels, fighting ancient horrors, and unlocking his trauma powers in a blaze of glory and emotional scarring.
Jericho? He could sip tea and watch it unfold like a well-funded drama.
He chuckled to himself. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded.
Being the hero sucked.
Shin had to fight literal monsters with names like Soulpiercer and Regret Reaver. He got betrayed by a trusted teacher, stabbed in the back by a girl who "didn't mean to," and spent half the fourth arc crawling through mud with a broken leg to save a kingdom that never said thank you.
And for what?
Some kisses and a glowing sword?
"Sure, he got all the girls... but at what cost?!"
Jericho straightened up.
"I don't have to save the world! I don't have to fight demon lords! I don't need to train until I vomit blood!"
He looked at the sky, triumphant.
"I don't need to unlock trauma memories to become stronger! I can just... chill!"
He jumped to his feet, arms spread like he was about to hug the world.
"No quests! No ancient prophecies! No personal growth arcs shoved down my throat! I can do what I want, when I want! I can nap in the sun and eat good food and read books like a well-fed cat!"
His grin widened into a full-on beam.
He spun in place once, dramatically.
"I can finally live without expectations! No chosen-one crap! No grinding, no last stands, no near-death power-ups! No more twelve-hour shifts behind a register or tapping at spreadsheets after four hours of sleep. No more Monday mornings. No alarm clocks screaming at dawn. No fake smiles. No commutes just to make enough to afford rent and regret. This world... This is freedom... and I know it better than my own world!"
He pumped his fists in the air.
"I accept this fate! I, Jericho Vaun Ashenwald, pledge myself to peace, mediocrity, and low-stress living!"
A bird flew off a nearby branch, startled by the declaration.
Jericho didn't care, he was free, and it felt amazing.
Then...
His suitcase fell over onto its side.
He blinked.
"...Right. I'm broke. Homeless. Technically disgraced."
He rubbed his face.
Still.
He had to think positively. This was his chance. He wasn't the same failure from before. Maybe, just maybe, he could start over.
He knew this place better than anyone. The halls, the routes, the secrets. He could practically map the game from memory.
And right now? He was still in Celestia Academy.
He remembered from the story that Jericho had run away from the academy after the scandal. But his tuition was already paid. If he stayed and played it safe, he could graduate like a regular student. Get a job, live quietly.
No drama. No bosses. No swords to the face.
He didn't need to be the best, he just needed to pass.
That was enough.
With fire in his step and hope in his chest, Jericho turned and began walking toward the gates of Celestia Academy.
He was going to do this, he was going to start over.
Two hours later...
Jericho stood in front of the forest behind the academy.
His shoulders were hunched. His coat was caught on a branch. There was a banana peel on his shoe.
Someone had actually thrown dirt at him. Twice.
"...Yeah. I got suspended.