> "Do you want to experience a 100% realistic virtual reality? Are you sick and tired of rotting away in front of a computer screen?"
> "Introducing the legendary VR Helmet. It offers a sensory experience indistinguishable from reality—it's like stepping into another world..."
> "Hello there, corporate drone. Do you want to conquer the world while you sleep? When was the last time you truly lost yourself in a game, free from the exhaustion of the 9-to-5 grind?"
> "Is it late at night? Are you gripping your controller, staring at a library full of games, but feeling nothing but burnout?"
> "This is history's first 100% immersive VRMMO. Don't worry about time dilation. Put on the helmet, close your eyes, and let the game enter your dreams. It might just fix everything wrong with your life."
> "Have you ever fantasized about riding a fire-breathing dragon, facing down an army of thousands as a Dragonrider? Have you ever dreamed of being a frontier Lord, leading your legion to carve out your own kingdom?"
> "While slaving away at your desk, have you ever daydreamed of becoming Robin Hood, robbing the rich to feed the poor?"
> "Did the stories of Harry Potter make you wish you could wield magic?"
> "Log in now: Ice & Fire: Mount & Slash! Step into your second life and reclaim the dreams of your youth!"
> "Want to wash away the day's fatigue and run wild in a world that belongs to you? Come on. The Closed Beta is limited to 100 players. If you know how to use a mouse, click the link and become a Sworn Knight of King Viserys III!"
---
Serious_Bush_Camper: "Bro, seriously? You don't actually believe this garbage about 'entering the game while you sleep' and waking up at 7:30 AM refreshed, do you? And '100% Virtual Reality' with a free headset? That marketing gimmick is older than the internet."
Zhao Xiaotian, a wealthy second-generation rich kid known online as Serious_Bush_Camper, sat at his computer desk, scrolling through the game ad his friend had shared. He let out a dismissive scoff.
He casually clicked the 'X' on the pop-up window, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard as he roasted his unseen friend via DM.
Ding-ding.
A reply popped up from his friend, Tank_Rearview:
Tank_Rearview: "Bro, I'm gonna level with you. I was actually invited to be one of the Ops Managers for this company. I've tested the game myself—it is absolutely revolutionary. I guarantee no VR gear on the market can even touch what this company has built! The game hasn't blown up yet, so I've got a few Closed Beta codes in my pocket. Register now. Don't come crying to me later when it goes viral and you have to fight scalpers for a slot!"
Tank_Rearview sent the pop-up link again, but this time, he attached a few screenshots.
Zhao Xiaotian clicked on the images and burst out laughing.
Serious_Bush_Camper: "Come on, man. You definitely took these at some movie studio or a Ren-Faire. If the in-game graphics are actually this realistic, I will livestream myself eating my own keyboard while doing a handstand."
Serious_Bush_Camper: "If you're short on cash, let's just hop on Tarkov. Carry me to a few extracts, serve your sugar daddy well, and I'll tip you handsomely. [Doge Emoji]"
This time, Tank_Rearview didn't reply. The cheap-looking website, reeking of those shady browser games from the early 2000s, continued to pulse on the screen.
"Talking about Tarkov..." the person on the other end muttered to himself. "If I can't bamboozle you guys into coming here to protect me, I'm literally going to be scavenging through trash for table scraps."
---
Zhao Xiaotian could never imagine what kind of bizarre reality the person chatting with him was actually living in.
His friend, Tank_Rearview, was currently squatting in a filthy corner of a market—a place that, to Zhao, only existed in gritty medieval fantasy shows. He was dressed in rags, staring longingly at a stall nearby where fresh bread had just come out of the oven. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"Viserys... we shouldn't have left Magister Lollo's manse," a timid voice whispered from behind him.
Crouched behind him was a girl, also draped in dirty, worn-out linen. She had flowing silver-gold hair, and despite the smudge of ash on her cheek, her beauty was undeniable.
Tank_Rearview—or rather, Viserys Targaryen—whipped his head around, his own silver hair whipping in the wind. The girl flinched, but he spoke softly.
"We are the blood of the dragon, the last of House Targaryen. Lollo was no friend of ours. That damned upstart merchant used every sharp word he could find to insult us. In his house, we were nothing but dancing bears for his amusement."
Viserys tried his best to mimic the tone of the original body's owner. He had only possessed this body for a day. If he changed too much, too fast, it might arouse the suspicion of the girl in front of him—the future Mother of Dragons, Daenerys.
She is my only safety net, thought the young man with purple eyes, known to the world as the Beggar King.
"I didn't mean to question you, Viserys, I..." Daenerys saw that he wasn't raising a hand to strike her, so she gathered a scrap of courage. "It's just... since no one here will help us, maybe we could go home..."
Her voice trailed off into a whisper, and she lowered her head.
"That is no longer our home, Daenerys! Those damned, lowborn servants betrayed their King the moment Ser Willem died!"
Daenerys buried her head deeper. Stupid, she thought. What foolishness was I speaking? I've gone and Woken the Dragon again.
I need to be more careful. Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut in fear, bracing for the slap.
But the blow never came.
"If we go back now, they'll just eye you like a prize. They'll sell you as a bed-slave to some fat, yellow-toothed sellsword or a merchant upstart like Lollo. Think of Lollo's lecherous eyes, that filthy gaze... You don't want to warm their beds, do you, my dear sister?"
Viserys didn't wait for her reaction. Having been hit by a truck (or whatever fate it was) and transmigrated into Game of Thrones—or perhaps A Song of Ice and Fire—just yesterday, he had to accept his reality quickly.
But as he slipped into character, he had a much bigger headache to deal with.
A transparent chat interface, invisible to everyone else, floated before his eyes:
[ The "Just Here for the Memes" Squad (17 Members) ]
> Tank_Rearview: Boys, I'm lucky enough to be an Ops Manager for this game. Everything above is real. Beta slots are limited, first come first served. Hurry up and try it.
Just like the website, nobody in the group chat bought his sales pitch.
> Donut_Daddy: Bro, that website looks like it was made in 1999. The graphics are potato quality. Nobody falls for that outdated marketing anymore.
> Im_Actually_Cracked: @Donut_Daddy Yeah, plus the localized text is definitely machine-translated. [Facepalm]
> Lightning_McQueen: Why is the court silent? Speak, my loyal subjects.
> Left_Hand_Bear_Paw: @Tank_Rearview Save your breath. Come hop on League with the boys.
> No_Cure_For_Stupid: You can tell it's a scam workshop just by looking at the UI. If any company actually developed 100% realistic full-dive VR, it would be trending on every tech site and YouTube channel on Earth. They wouldn't be spamming links in a small discord group like ours.
Sigh.
Watching his internet friends furiously typing away, ignoring the actual game link, Viserys let out a heavy sigh.
Thinking about it, he couldn't blame them. The website this crappy System gave him was garbage. If he were in their shoes, he wouldn't believe a company with a Geocities-tier website had invented full-dive VR either.
But it's all real!
Viserys mentally summoned the "Cheat Code" he had awakened that morning—the Ice & Fire Game Admin Sprite—and demanded answers.
"This is what you call a 'Newbie Gift Pack'? A 'Premium User Registration Website'?"
"Host, please let it cook. The System firmly believes they will be interested in a holographic game," the System Sprite replied. It looked suspiciously like the Fireboy character from those old Flash games.
It popped out, arms crossed, completely ignoring the fact that the website looked like a scam, and offered Viserys some generic motivational support.
Viserys was just about to lose it and go full barbarian-rage on the sprite when the interface on the website suddenly changed.
[ Closed Beta Registration: (1/100) ]
Viserys's eyes widened. He frantically clicked the red notification dot.
> Serious_Bush_Camper: I clicked register. How many days until the helmet arrives?
Ding-ding.
> Serious_Bush_Camper: Look, I only registered to help you out because I know you're stuck in some sweatshop job. This game screams 'asset flip knock-off,' but hey, who asked me to be your daddy? Since you're working hard as a dog... err, a Game Op, I'll boost your numbers.
Yes! Finally scammed one!
Viserys let out a long breath of relief. Starting off with the ability to summon players to do his bidding was lucky, but having a System that provided such a sketchy website was unlucky.
But at least he dragged one friend into the deep end.
Viserys looked at his friend's avatar in the chat box and smiled a wicked, scheming smile.
Suffering in a dark, medieval fantasy world? How could I possibly forget my best buds back home?
Get over here and help me retake the Iron Throne!