The sky was darker than usual.
Thunder rolled across the clouds, deep and heavy, and moments later rain poured down onto the city streets. Water splashed with every hurried footstep, echoing through the empty road.
A middle-aged man ran through the downpour, office clothes soaked and clinging to his body. In one hand, he clutched a folder, holding it above something precious.
A kitten.
"I need to get to the vet," he muttered through clenched teeth.
The folder barely shielded the small, trembling body from the rain. His breath came fast, chest tightening with every step. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes—signs of endless overtime, sleepless nights, and a life that never slowed down. His hair was plastered to his forehead, rainwater dripping down his face.
At last, the animal clinic came into view.
"Phew…" He stopped at the entrance, hands braced on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Then, without hesitation, he pushed the door open.
"Help!" he shouted. "An injured kitten!"
A man in a white coat rushed toward him.
"What happened?" the veterinarian asked, already reaching out.
"I found it on the road," the man said between gasps. "It was hurt."
The veterinarian gently took the kitten from his arms and immediately turned, rushing toward the emergency room.
Only then did reality strike.
The man froze.
…The meeting.
His eyes widened as he glanced at the clock on the wall. His boss. The project. The deadline.
Without thinking, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and placed it on the counter.
"I'll pay for the kitten's treatment," he said quickly. "I have to go—I'll come back later."
"Sir, wait—!" a staff member called out.
But he was already moving.
Rain greeted him again as he rushed back into the storm, his mind no longer on the kitten—but on the meeting that might cost him everything.
"You're late again!"
The shout slammed into the room the moment I stepped inside.
I froze.
Behind the desk sat a bald, heavyset man, his face twisted in irritation. He snatched the folder from my hands and flipped it open.
Water dripped onto the desk.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" he barked. "The papers are soaked! Completely useless!"
My shoulders sagged. I lowered my head.
"I–I'm sorry," I said quietly. "It's just… I had to save a—"
The folder hit the floor.
The sound echoed through the office.
He stood up, glaring down at me.
"You're fired."
The words were flat. Final.
I looked up in panic. "P-Please— I can do better. I swear. Just give me another chance."
He didn't even hesitate.
"I'm not interested," he said coldly. "Leave. Immediately."
That was it.
No discussion. No understanding.
Rain welcomed me back outside.
Cold water soaked through my clothes, clinging to my skin. People passed by, umbrellas raised, eyes forward. No one looked at me. No one cared.
I tilted my head up, rain stinging my eyes.
Why does this keep happening to me?
Her words echoed in my mind.
You're too soft.
You're not fit to be a husband.
The boss's voice overlapped it.
You're fired.
My chest tightened.
"Am I… not enough?" I whispered.
I reached the crosswalk. The signal turned green.
I stepped forward, thoughts swirling.
Do good people really suffer more?
A loud honk blared.
I didn't hear it.
My eyes caught movement on the other side of the road.
The kitten.
Alive. Sitting there.
"Hey…" I murmured, a weak smile forming. "You're okay now, huh…"
Light flooded my vision.
—CRASH
Pain never came.
Only cold.
Raindrops hit my face, one after another.
Voices shouted somewhere far away.
"Shit—!"
Footsteps ran. A car engine roared, then faded into silence.
The kitten padded closer.
I could barely lift my hand.
"H-Hey…" my voice cracked. "You're… good now…"
The kitten licked my bloodied fingers.
A bitter thought surfaced.
So this is it…
Being good really does hurt.
Darkness swallowed my vision.
As consciousness faded, one final thought burned in my mind.
Being good had only ever brought me suffering.
If I'm given another life…
I won't be good.
I'll be a villain.
And then—darkness.
Consciousness returned in ragged gasps. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself half-sitting, half-slumped in the unfamiliar bed, my chest heaving.
"Where… am I?" I whispered, panic creeping in.
The memories hit me like a tidal wave—the car, the honking, the kitten. I reached for my chest. "I… survived?"
A soft knock echoed from the door.
The door creaked open, revealing a trembling maid. She curtsied so low it nearly touched the floor, her voice barely above a whisper. "S-Sir… the meal… is ready…" She closed the door quietly, and I heard her hurried footsteps fade down the hall.
I blinked, confused. This wasn't a hospital. Not even close.
Sliding the blankets away, I swung my legs off the bed and staggered toward the mirror. My reflection froze me.
This was not my face. Not my body.
High cheekbones. A sharp jawline. A strong, youthful face—twenty-four, at most. Fine pajamas draped over a noble frame. I touched my face, tracing unfamiliar lines.
"…Who am I?"
Then it hit me.
I had been reincarnated.
I remembered the game. Chronicles of Savior Lands. A story rife with villains. And this… this was the villain I had always known. Marquis Von Ashborn. Strategic. Calculated. Feared even by emperors. The one who would fall to the demons in the end—but in the game, a legend.
I grinned, slowly. A sound escaped my lips, low at first, then rising into a full, echoing laugh.
The mansion seemed to shiver. Maids froze mid-step, clutching one another, wide-eyed.
"Eeek! Did I… do something wrong?" one whispered, clutching the other.
"It's okay," her companion whispered back, "he just… woke up."
Sunlight glinted off polished armor in the courtyard, lion crests shining brightly. A young, blond man paused mid-training, his sharp gaze narrowing as he heard the echo of my laughter.
"…He's awake," he murmured, his voice calm. The servants were trembling, but he didn't flinch.
This was nothing unusual—his laughter had become part of the day-to-day rhythm here.
"Best I move quickly," he added, continuing toward the mansion without hesitation.
The laughter echoed through the mansion, filling the halls. I paused mid-chuckle, frowning at myself. This is weird… I didn't mean to laugh so hard. I caught my reflection in the mirror. So… after reincarnating into this body, I've inherited his habits? Confusion swirled in my mind.
A soft knock at the door snapped me back to reality. I straightened my posture, pushing the lingering laughter aside. Focus. Becoming the villain comes first.
I opened the door. Standing before me was a young man—blond hair, strong build, clad in silver-plated armor engraved with lion crests.
"My lord, good morning," he said, bowing respectfully.
I blinked. Recognition struck me like lightning.
"Rein," I said aloud.
His head jerked up. "Yes, my lord?"
Without thinking, I blurted out, "What is the date today?"
"Tir 8, 199," he replied without hesitation, though his brow furrowed in curiosity.
I smirked, my mind racing. Tir 8, 199… the destruction of Angunth. The awakening of the Seven Deadly Sins.
Rein placed a hand over his chest. "The knights you requested last night are ready."
I froze. Knights I requested? I didn't request anything… Then realization hit me. This was a prequel event—one from the game's backstory, before Marquis Von Ashborn revealed himself as the villain at the empire gathering.
I leveled my gaze at Rein, serious. "Change of plans. We won't attend the empire gathering."
Rein's eyes widened. "But… the knights are ready to escort you—"
I cut him off with a hand gesture. "We're going to Angunth."
His jaw dropped. "That place… it's swarming with demons and monsters!" His voice trembled with concern.
Demons? How could he know? This event had never been revealed…
I held his gaze, waiting.
Rein swallowed hard, sweat forming at his temple. "I… didn't know you accepted the princess' request…"
"Princess request?" I echoed, hesitation lacing my tone.
"Princess Lyra asked for help with Angunth," Rein said, confidence in his voice, "but you… declined."
I frowned. This backstory wasn't part of the game start. In the game, the empire gathering happens after Marquis is already villainous. The state of Angunth and Princess Lyra's role… it was new to me. But one thing was certain—I knew what I needed. That was where I could obtain a meta-class, a power no one else had.
I spoke softly, letting a noble tone cloak my intentions. "With you and the knights accompanying me, Angunth will be safe. We'll save the people there."
Rein's eyes softened, admiration shining through confusion. "We will follow you, my lord."
But inside, my thoughts burned with a darker fire. The Seven Deadly Sins must not awaken before I claim that power. Nothing will stop me.