The king died in a very unprofessional way.
No heroic sacrifice. No dramatic betrayal speech. Just a sharp pain in his chest and the delayed realization that being stabbed usually meant you were losing badly.
The crown hit the marble floor.
It rolled once—
—and stopped.
For some reason, that annoyed him more than the knife.
Then everything went dark.
He woke up irritated.
Which immediately told him something was wrong.
How is this possible? Dead people don't wake up pissed.
Pain followed half a second later, like it had been waiting for permission. His head throbbed, his chest felt tight, and his body felt… heavy. Not the sore kind of heavy. The lazy, spoiled kind. Like it hadn't done real work in years.
Okay, he thought. I'm alive.
That was already very suspicious.
He opened his eyes.
Gold.
Way too much gold.
Gold pillars. Gold ceiling. Gold decorations screaming royalty with zero budget constraints. Candlelight reflected off stone polished to the point of absurdity, like the entire room existed solely to burn money.
Yeah, no, he decided. This isn't a hospital. This is what happens when taxes go unchecked.
He tried to sit up.
Pain exploded through his chest.
"Shit—"
The voice that came out froze him.
It wasn't his.
It was deeper. Rougher. The kind of voice that sounded like it gave orders for a living.
…Why the hell do I sound like a final boss?
Before he could think any further, the doors burst open.
"Your Majesty!"
Footsteps rushed toward him. Someone grabbed his arm like it was illegal for him to move.
A man in ornate armor filled his vision, eyes wide with relief, looking genuinely shaken.
"You live!"
Impressive deduction, he thought. Promote this man immediately.
His brain was still scrambling when it happened.
Memories slammed into him.
Not gently. Not politely.
A throne room soaked in blood.
A silver blade flashing.
A woman screaming his name.
Fear. Betrayal. Pain.
The king had been assassinated.
Correction, he amended slowly. The king was assassinated.
Because I'm still here.
In the king's body. Very much alive. At least for now.
He closed his eyes and exhaled carefully.
Alright, let's count.
New body. New world. Royal murder.
Yep. This is officially an epic mess.
Let's not panic like an amateur.
A sudden cold sensation brushed against something deep inside him.
Not flesh.
Something else entirely.
It felt like fingers clawing at his soul, trying to grab hold and rip it out. Pressure crushed down on him, his breath vanishing as if a mountain had dropped on his chest.
For a moment, he genuinely thought he was dying again.
Then—
Crack.
The pressure shattered.
The sensation recoiled violently, like it had hit something it shouldn't have.
Air rushed back into his lungs.
He gasped.
"What the hell was that?" he muttered.
Understanding settled in quickly.
That hadn't been a normal assassination.
It was a curse.
One aimed straight at the soul.
Someone tried to delete the original owner.
And failed.
Because whoever planned this clearly hadn't accounted for a last-second overwrite by another soul.
Lucky me.
"Help me sit," he said.
The words came out naturally, like this body had been issuing commands for years.
Servants moved instantly. Pillows appeared. Silk brushed against his skin.
As they worked, he scanned the room.
Too many stiff smiles. Too much careful loyalty. The kind that felt empty and rehearsed.
Yep. One of those courts.
At the far end of the chamber stood the queen.
Black dress. No crown. Not a single tear on her face.
She wasn't rushing over. She wasn't pretending to worry.
She was watching.
Her gaze was calm, focused, with calculations hidden just beneath the surface.
Their eyes met.
No warmth.
Just assessment.
Fantastic, he thought. I woke up married to the smartest person in the room.
More memories clicked into place.
A powerful kingdom.
Enemies to the west.
A fragile political balance.
A king who ruled by presence alone—without real control.
And a queen who quietly held everything together.
Yeah, he thought. That explains the stabbing.
Then something else surfaced.
Not a memory.
Recognition.
His gaze drifted to the banners hanging from the walls. The sigils. The colors. The layout of the chamber.
A sharp realization stabbed into him.
No way.
He had seen this room before.
Not in real life.
On a screen.
On his phone. On his laptop.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The realization hit fully, and he couldn't stop it.
This isn't just another fantasy world.
This is the strategy simulator.
The one he'd played obsessively.
The one with brutal difficulty spikes.
The one where the king always died early if you made even one wrong decision.
Extraordinary Rise.
The map.
The factions.
The western kingdom that specialized in assassination curses.
Holy shit.
He was sitting on the worst possible starting position in the game.
"I was murdered," he said aloud.
The room went completely silent.
"Yes," the queen replied smoothly. "An attempt was made on your life."
Attempt, he noted. That's new.
"How many people were present?" he asked.
"Twelve, Your Majesty," the armored man replied.
"And none noticed the curse?"
"Such magic is subtle," the queen said.
"Then whoever did this wanted witnesses," he said mildly.
The room didn't like that logic.
Good.
"Dismiss the court," he continued. "All but the queen, the captain, and the physician."
After a brief hesitation, the captain obeyed.
The doors closed.
The atmosphere shifted.
Now it was honest.
"You remember?" the queen asked quietly.
"Enough," he said. "…Unfortunately."
She studied him carefully.
"The curse was designed to sever your soul," she said. "It originates from the western kingdom."
Confirmed, he thought. Just like the game.
"And the reason it failed?" he asked.
She paused.
"I don't know."
Bullshit, the memories whispered.
"I won't rule today," he said suddenly.
The captain stiffened. The queen didn't.
"I'll recover," he continued. "Observe. Listen. Learn."
"And then?" she asked.
His thoughts were already moving ahead.
Then I'll play this perfectly.
Aloud, he said, "Then I'll be king."
Silence followed.
Not resistance.
Acceptance.
As the queen turned to leave, he caught something unexpected in her eyes.
Relief.
Oh hell, he thought. She knows this kingdom is screwed.
The captain spoke once she was gone.
"You trust her?"
"No."
The captain nodded. Good. He wasn't alone in that suspicion.
For the first time since waking up stabbed, cursed, and crowned, he felt calm.
"Alright," he muttered. "I know this map."
And this time—
He wasn't playing on normal difficulty.