The world felt quieter now.
Evan was broken. His life was in ruins.
Mia was avenged.
And yet, as I walked alone through the empty city streets, I realized something—the pain hadn't left.
It still sat there, deep inside me, like a festering wound that refused to heal.
I had thought his suffering would bring me peace.
But peace was a lie.
The truth was simple.
Mia was gone.
Vanished, as if she had never existed. There was no trace of her anywhere, as though the universe had conspired to erase her entirely. The last time I had seen her was when she went to watch a movie. She had smiled at me that evening, teasing me about how I always refused to watch romance films with her. She had promised to tell me all about it when she got back.
She never returned.
I had scoured the city, gone through security footage, checked every possible lead. Nothing. Yes, she did enter the theater, but she never exited. The cameras showed nothing beyond that moment. It was as if the world had simply swallowed her whole, leaving only a hollow space where she should have been.
And there was no life worth living without her.
…
I walked for hours, my feet carrying me forward without direction. The city was still awake—cars humming in the distance, neon signs flickering in the cold night air—but it all felt detached.
Like I wasn't part of this world anymore.
Maybe I never had been.
People passed me by, wrapped up in their own lives, their own problems, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. I envied them. They had families, friends, lovers. Futures. I had nothing but the ghost of a girl who had been stolen from me, and the bitter satisfaction of knowing I had made the man responsible suffer.
Was it enough?
No. It wasn't.
My hand brushed against the cold metal in my pocket.
A pistol.
Evan had bought it months ago, paranoid that one of Mia's relatives might come for him. Funny. He wasn't wrong.
I had taken it from his apartment after our last meeting. I hadn't even planned to use it.
Not on him, anyway.
I climbed the stairs of an abandoned building, the rooftop door creaking as I pushed it open. The rusted hinges groaned in protest, and for a moment, I hesitated, savoring the sound. The wind hit me instantly, sharp and biting, carrying with it the scent of rain and asphalt.
From here, I could see the whole city. The endless lights. The lives of millions, moving forward like nothing had happened.
Like Mia's vanishing meant nothing to the world.
I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the gun.
I won't let it mean nothing.
…
I pulled out my phone.
One last thing.
I dialed a number.
It rang twice before my mother picked up.
"Hello?" Her voice was groggy. It was late.
I swallowed. "Mom."
Silence. Then, a sharp inhale. "Oh my god, where have you been?! Do you have any idea—"
"I'm sorry," I cut her off. My voice was calm. Too calm. "For everything. For not being there more. For not protecting Mia."
She went quiet. "You—you avenged her, didn't you?" Her voice cracked.
I closed my eyes. "Yeah."
Another pause. Then, barely a whisper: "Is it over?"
I looked out over the city. The vast, endless world that no longer felt like mine.
"Yeah," I murmured. "It's over."
I ended the call.
No goodbyes. No explanations.
I had nothing left to say.
…
I raised the gun to my temple.
No hesitation. No second thoughts.
I had done what I needed to do.
Now, there was only one thing left.
The wind howled around me, carrying away the last remnants of the man I used to be.
Mia.
If you're out there… wait for me.
I pulled the trigger.
A flash.
A deafening crack.
Then—
Nothing.
…
Pain.
Not the sharp, instant kind. Not the kind I had expected.
No, this was worse.
A slow, crushing agony, like my entire body had been ripped apart and put back together wrong.
I gasped, my lungs burning as I sucked in air.
'What the fuck—?!'
I wasn't dead.
I was—
I forced my eyes open.
The ceiling above me wasn't familiar. Ornate, high-vaulted, lined with intricate gold carvings. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mixing with silk sheets beneath me.
This wasn't the city.
This wasn't my apartment.
And then it hit me.
I knew this place.
I had seen it before.
'Not that I was proud of this fact, being chronically online with no life isn't a compliment.'
In the game.
The eroge game.
I had transmigrated.
But something was wrong.
I turned my head, catching a glimpse of myself in a tall, antique mirror across the room.
And my stomach dropped.
Because staring back at me was a man I knew all too well.
A man whose role in the game was pathetic.
A man whose very existence was meant to be a joke.
I wasn't the protagonist.
I wasn't a villain.
I was—
The cuck.
…
My hands trembled as I reached up, running my fingers through my hair.
It wasn't my usual silky smooth black. It was a striking shade of violet, deep and unnatural. My eyes—once sharp, admirable—were now even sharper, almost glowing violet. They looked like amethyst in the dim candlelight of the room.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palm.
Cassius Lancaster.
That was my new name.
A weak-willed noble. A background character meant to be humiliated. A man whose fiancée, Amelia, would betray him over and over again, right in front of him.
I gritted my teeth, my violet eyes flashing in the mirror.
'No!'
There was no point.
There was no point in living, not in this game world or any other world, this world didn't have Mia.
None had.
I was fully determined to kill myself again, but I needed something to do it. Strangling myself would have been a no brainer, it would do nothing.
This world was different, people here had abilities that transcended folklore deities.
'Heck, they had stats points, a profile screen and best of all everyone had a system.'