In the dark room, the glow of the monitor lit up my face.The only source of light in the room—cold and bluish.
On the screen, a galactic map stretched endlessly.Thousands of stars.Hundreds of systems.And one empire standing above them all.
Mine.
My hand moved, pressing the Launch Agenda button.
The display shifted. A colossal spaceship appeared—its size absurd, almost like a planet itself. Slowly, it drifted toward a violently spinning black hole, devouring all surrounding light.
The next moment—
The galaxy collapsed.
Stars shattered. Systems fell one after another in a chain reaction. Light flooded the screen before everything vanished, leaving behind a hollow cosmic void.
Yet the ship continued onward.
It pierced through the black hole, entered a dimensional rift, and advanced as if trying to tear reality itself apart.
Slurp.
The sound of sipping a drink filled the room, followed by the crunch of potato chips breaking between my teeth.
"So in the end," I said casually into the microphone, "Cosmo Genesis is considered a galactic-level crisis not because they extract living brains to turn them into computation chips—"
My finger pointed at the screen, at the empty void where a galaxy had just disappeared.
"—but because whatever they do, they always accidentally destroy the galaxy they're in."
The chat immediately exploded with activity.
From XHuman: $100"not a single day without destroying a galaxy"
I chuckled softly.
"Thanks for the donation," I said. "And yeah, buddy—that's not my fault."
I leaned back in my chair.
"That was your request. And as a professional streamer," I shrugged, "I'm just doing my job."
Another notification appeared.
From XHuman: $10"then how about trying a galactic defender or merchant run next playthrough?"
I glanced briefly at the chat.
Honestly, I had tried all kinds of playthroughs.Defender. Merchant. Diplomat.
Every time, the result was the same.
Boring.
Too many compromises. Too much nonsense. Too much pretending to maintain peace—when the moment one empire weakens, another pounces like a starving dog.
I shook my head lightly.
"Sorry," I said. "I'll have to decline that."
A few seconds later, another donation came in.
From XHuman: $1"called it. that's why the donation's smaller. damn xenophobe worshipper"
My eye twitched.
He wasn't wrong. Anyone who played this game long enough would eventually become a xenophobe preacher, saying stuff like we were born to inherit the stars or something along those lines.
I leaned closer to the mic.
"First," I said flatly, "thanks for the one dollar."
"And second—I don't worship anything."
I stared at the empty galaxy on the screen and spoke again, casually, almost joking.
"I must go on a galactic purge for the sake of frame rate."
The chat exploded. Emotes, laughter, provocation.
"Bro, you need to throw away that potato PC."
"I feel that lmfao, when the game runs too long my PC sounds like a hair clipper."
I let out a short breath, exhausted after staying up all night.
"Alright, folks," I said while moving the mouse. "I think that's it for today's stream."
I closed the chat window and looked back at the camera.
"Thanks to everyone who watched, lurked, or donated—big or small, it all means a lot."
I raised my drink toward the camera.
"As always—don't forget to like, subscribe, and remember…"
The cursor hovered over the End Stream button.
"The galaxy won't destroy itself."
Click.
The stream ended. The camera shut off.The screen returned to the desktop.
Silence filled the room.
I sank deeper into my chair and took a moment to breathe.
Then suddenly, a window appeared in the center of the monitor.
Simulation complete.Would you like to continue?
Below it were only two options.
[YES] [NO]
I frowned.
"Is this some kind of easter egg or something? Too bad I already turned off the livestream."
It had only been a week since the game updated to the latest patch—and I was already the only one who had completed all the new playthroughs.
Without thinking much, I clicked YES.
The screen dimmed.
Not shutting down—just as if the light itself was being pulled away. Colors faded. The sound of the fan grew distant and muffled, as if the room itself was drifting away.
My chest felt light.
Not tight.Not painful.Just… empty.
My eyelids grew heavy. Too heavy to resist.
"At least let me save first," I muttered.
My vision blurred.
I tried to move my hand—but my body no longer responded.
Then—
Everything faded.
…
I woke up to a cold sensation.
Not cold air—but a chill that seeped through my entire body, like thick liquid restraining every movement. I tried to breathe, and it took a full second before my lungs responded.
My vision was blurry.
Above me, a ring of white light glowed faintly. Transparent curved walls surrounded me. Thin blue lines flowed across the surface like veins.
A capsule.
I recognized the shape before my thoughts fully cleared.
An incubation pod.
My body was small. Too small. I could feel it even without seeing it. My arms and legs were submerged in liquid, weak, not fully obedient.
A silhouette appeared beyond the capsule wall.
More than one.
Muffled voices echoed, as if coming from underwater.
"Neural activity stable.""The subject is showing signs of awakening."
Subject? What does that mean?
I wanted to ask so many things.
But my eyelids were too heavy, and darkness swallowed me again.
...
Five years later.
I sat on the floor of a spacious room, surrounded by toys scattered without order.
Metal blocks engraved with geometric symbols. Miniature spaceships with absurd levels of detail. Picture books bound in thick leather covers—far too luxurious to be children's books.
The architecture of the room was strange… yet beautiful.
The ceiling was high, decorated with classical European carvings, seamlessly blended with modern elements that didn't feel forced.
I let out a small sigh.
It had been five years since I started living in this world.
From what I remember, I was born into a noble family.
House [Valkaryn].
A star-spanning empire known as the [Dravion Empire].
Within an empire like that, I was born into a Count's house that ruled over millions of stars.
And one day, I would rule it.
At first, I was confused when I woke up from the capsule. I thought it was some kind of advanced virtual reality—an elaborate simulation or a strange experiment.
But reality was different.
I was born through artificial fertilization.
And it seemed my consciousness transferred into this body right after I did something in my previous world.
The door slid open.
I turned my head.
A man and a woman stepped inside. Their clothes were neat and expensive—classic in cut, but clearly not made of ordinary fabric. The man was tall, with neatly combed black hair and calm, calculating eyes.
Albert Valkaryn.
My father.
The woman beside him had dark brown hair, a gentle face, and a warm, motherly smile.
Elena Valkaryn.
Behind them stood a male servant with perfect posture and a neutral expression.
"Lucian, do you know what day it is?" my father continued. "Today is your birthday."
I blinked slowly.
A birthday. Something I never cared about—neither in this world nor the previous one.
"Congratulations, you've finally grown up," my mother said.
She clapped her hands softly, as if genuinely happy. My father nodded briefly, then pulled out a thin document from inside his long coat.
"This is our gift to you," he said as he crouched in front of me. "Stamp it here."
He took out a metal seal.
I looked more closely at the document. The letters were immediately understandable—basic knowledge of this world had been implanted in me since I was in the capsule.
My eyes stopped on a single word.
Debt.
My father took my small hand. He guided it down onto the paper.
Stamp.
Red ink spread cleanly across the page, bearing my name.
"Good," he said briefly. "Now everything is done."
I opened my mouth, about to ask—
"Time for a photo," my mother interrupted cheerfully.
She turned around. "Sebas, please hold the camera."
The servant stepped forward. My mother handed him the sleek device she had been holding. Sebas activated it, and a holographic screen lit up in the air.
My father lifted me into his arms. I rested against him. My mother stood beside him and adjusted my collar briefly.
"Look here," she said softly.
Flash.
The photo was taken.
The holographic image appeared in the air.
A noble man and woman stood neatly. In the center, a young boy was held in his father's arms—black hair, blue eyes, and an expression far too calm for a child.
"Beautiful," my mother said with satisfaction.
I was placed back on the floor.
"Alright," my father said, glancing at the thin watch on his wrist. "We have business to attend, so.. goodbye."
My mother smiled once more. No hug. No extra words.
They left immediately, as if they had urgent matters elsewhere.
I read the document. It stated that I would send them living expenses to the imperial capital every year.
They gave everything to me while choosing a modest urban life for themselves, while I would begin assuming full control over House Valkaryn.
Are they insane?
That was the first thought that crossed my mind.
What kind of people hand over everything they own to a five-year-old?
"Lord Lucian, your parents—" Sebas began.
"I know," I interrupted.
...
A few days later.
Lucian's parents arrived at the spaceport, surrounded by heavily armed guards. Their steps were calm and measured, as if this place were nothing more than a temporary stop.
They boarded a private shuttle together, but sat apart.
The interior was excessively luxurious. Leather seats, crystal panels, and soft lighting designed to soothe its passengers. First, they would leave the spaceport aboard this shuttle. Once outside orbit, an official imperial ship would retrieve them and take them directly to the capital.
As Albert read an electronic newspaper, he spoke.
They didn't even look at each other.
"In the end, you decided to come with me," Albert said flatly. "Are you aware of your role as a mother?"
Across from him, Elena sipped her tea gracefully. Thin steam rose from the porcelain cup.
There was no love between them.Their relationship was built entirely on political interest.
"He is a child who inherited my genes," Elena replied without emotion. "My body endured great pain to give birth to him. But I can't say I feel genuine affection."
Lucian was the product of their combined genetics.
Nothing more.
Albert set the electronic newspaper down on the small table between them. This time, Elena spoke first.
"…are you really sure it's okay to hand everything over to a five-year-old?"
"If I said no," Albert replied calmly, "would you stay here?"
"I'm serious."
Elena took another sip before continuing.
"I would never have married you if I hadn't been promised this freedom. Still, I feel a bit guilty leaving behind a child who knows nothing."
Albert chuckled softly.
"Don't worry. I've assigned Sebas to take care of him," he said casually. "Just like my father did."
"You won't betray me," Elena said. "At least in that regard, I trust you. But if something happens to that child, we'll be forced to return. Can't you see the risk?"
"Don't think about it."
Albert's tone was firm, as if the conversation should have ended there.
But Elena still looked uneasy.
"So you're really fine with this?" she asked. "You don't hesitate to push a five-year-old into a dangerous position he doesn't even understand?"
Albert took a glass of alcohol and sipped it slowly.
He was finally free.
A faint smile appeared—the smile of someone who had just reclaimed their freedom.
"It's not unusual," he said. "Plenty of people like us hand their positions to their children. Besides, we already got approval from the palace."
He took another sip.
"No one truly wants to govern a border region like that. So it doesn't matter who the ruler is."
The Empire had no issue forcing status and property onto a five-year-old.
But there was a reason.
"The Empire doesn't want to be directly involved with border territories," Albert continued. "As long as there's a competent administrator, it doesn't matter if the ruler neglects his duties."
For the Interstellar Empire, governance was extremely complex.
Moreover, the Empire had avoided using AI since its founding.
Humanity was once dominated by the AI they created to serve them.
And it was the people of the Empire who rose up against that incomprehensible power.
As a result, nobles were deeply uncomfortable with robots or AI interfering in governance.
Elena lowered her gaze, looking at the spaceport shrinking into the distance.
The planet owned by House Valkaryn.
A bleak place, barely developed.
A forgotten border territory.
And on top of that, the family carried massive debt.
"If he knew what that territory was really like," Elena murmured, "Lucian would be furious."
Albert's drink was strong. His face was slightly flushed.
"One day, he'll walk the same path," he said with a smile. "Push everything onto his only child… and run off to the imperial capital."