Chapter 1: Transmigration
Sevi had always considered himself an average guy, the kind of face that blends into a crowd without leaving a ripple. Nothing particularly striking, nothing worth a second glance.
"Hey Sev, wanna hit the gym after programming?" his friend Mark called out, snapping him back to reality.
"Sure thing," Sevi replied with a easy smile.
But average was where the similarities to other guys ended. What set him apart was his iron dedication to fitness and an almost obsessive eye for style. Despite majoring in computer science, a field not exactly known for its athleticism, Sevi treated the gym like a second home and his wardrobe like a personal project.
The one thing missing from his life? Romance. And he preferred it that way.
His friends never let him forget it, of course. The "No Girlfriend Since Birth" jokes had become a running gag in their circle. Sevi never took the bait. He had barbells and raid bosses to worry about.
"Definitely a waste of time," he'd mutter whenever the topic came up, and mean every word of it.
'1… 2… 3… 8… 20!'
Sevi exhaled sharply as he racked the barbell, the satisfying burn spreading through his thighs like a slow fire. He lived for that feeling, the proof that today's effort was real.
"Hey Sev, you're gonna break those weights someday," Mark said from behind him, grinning as he spotted.
Sevi let out a short laugh, catching his breath.
"Just keeping sane, man."
After the gym, Sevi's evening followed its usual rhythm. Homework first, even the assignments due next week, then the sacred reward: gaming.
He leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his library with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had earned their leisure.
"Just finished Yakuza's Revenge… what's next?"
His cursor stopped on an unfamiliar title: Vengeance in Progress.
He clicked it. The reviews were glowing, high ratings, passionate write-ups. One line in particular caught his eye.
"An illegitimate, neglected prince who claws his way to the throne by beating everyone who ever wronged him."
"Now that's my kind of game," Sevi muttered, hitting download without a second thought.
The opening cutscene pulled him in immediately.
A young prince stood in the shadow of a grand castle, his clothes little more than rags against the backdrop of cold stone and torchlight. His half-siblings circled him, shoving and jeering, while their father, the king, watched from a distance with the disinterest of a man observing someone else's problem.
"Damn. What a trash family," Sevi said quietly, something uncomfortable stirring in his chest.
Then the real villain waddled onto the scene.
A young duke, round as a barrel and already carrying the smugness of someone who'd never been told no, stepped forward with a posse of cronies at his back. He clutched his belly as he laughed, like it was a trophy.
"You're nothing but a stain on the royal bloodline," the duke sneered. "Maybe you should crawl back to whatever slum your mother came from."
The cronies howled. The prince said nothing. His hands hung at his sides, trembling, not from fear, Sevi realized, but from restraint.
Then, slowly, he raised his head.
The laughter died.
The prince's eyes had turned red.
"There it is," Sevi murmured, leaning forward. "That's the awakening."
And then, the screen froze. Right on the duke's smug, round face.
"Are you serious right now?!" Sevi groaned, jabbing at the keyboard. Nothing. Mouse clicks. Nothing. He leaned back with a long exhale. "I was this close."
He was still weighing his options, restart or run diagnostics, when the frozen screen suddenly flared white.
Sevi threw up a hand to shield his eyes. When he lowered it, the screen had changed entirely.
Glowing text hovered against a dark interface:
[Welcome to Vengeance in Progress v2.]
Below it: [Select Player],with the duke's image locked front and center.
Sevi squinted. "The heck is this, a menu?"
He tried the mouse. Unresponsive. The keyboard. Nothing. The duke's frozen smirk seemed almost mocking at this point.
Then a new prompt blinked into existence:
[Confirm Player Selection: Young Duke?]
"Wha—"
The screen flashed. The room disappeared.
When Sevi opened his eyes, he wasn't in his room anymore.
He stood in the middle of a lavish chamber draped in silver and gold, high arched ceilings, towering windows letting in pale afternoon light, furniture ornate enough to belong in a museum. The air smelled faintly of expensive candle wax.
"What just happened?" he breathed.
Then he looked down.
The robe he was wearing was heavy, embroidered with gold thread and studded with jewels. Impressive, objectively. But the body underneath it—
"The hell?!"
He moved to the mirror by the window, and what stared back at him stopped him cold.
Silver hair. Purple eyes behind a pair of prescription glasses. And a figure that was, without question, generously round.
Sevi stood there for a long moment, one hand slowly rising to touch his unfamiliar face.
"I'm actually that fatso," he said flatly.
A screen materialized in front of him, bright and cheerful:
[Once again, welcome to Vengeance in Progress v2, Young Master Sevi.]
[Capture the hearts of heroines and make meaningful experiences!]
Sevi stared at it.
"Capture the what?"