Celestial Descendant

A month before the king's poisoning.

The night was supposed to be ordinary, the palace was quiet, bathed in a dull and lifeless elegance. In the farthest wing, Aedan, the frail fourth prince, slept in his large bed, his breathing slow and weak. He had been sickly his entire life, and no one had ever expected much of him. The servants whispered about his fate behind closed doors, some pitied him, but many more felt relieved to be rid of the burden he posed. But as he lay there that night, his heart gave out silently. The world around him continued unaware of the life that slipped away.

Miles away, across dimensions, another life was ending—though not quietly at all.

Haruto's hands trembled as he stared at the email on his screen. 150 million yen—gone. His face twisted in rage, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. Betrayal clawed at his mind. He slammed his fist onto the desk, the force vibrating up his arm as his computer monitor flickered from the impact.

"How… how could this happen!?"

The betrayal was fresh, stinging his skin like a thousand needles. The fan—someone he had confided in, trusted—had scammed him, taken everything from him. His hard-earned prize money, won through a decade of dedication, was gone in an instant. He had devoted years to perfecting his craft in Kingdom's Fall, climbing the ranks, becoming number one in Japan. His name had meant something in the gaming world, but now… it was all for nothing.

"Why? Why did I trust her?!" He was shouting now, his voice hoarse, echoing around the room. He grabbed his phone to call her, but his shaking hands fumbled. It fell to the ground with a sharp crack, the screen shattering like the remnants of his pride.

The reality was sinking in—no amount of rage could change what had been done. He was alone. Isolated. All of those years, all of that effort, for nothing.

The walls of his apartment seemed to close in around him. He sank to the floor, his breathing ragged. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away, refusing to cry. Crying was weak. He clenched his teeth, his chest heaving as anger and helplessness warred inside him.

In the dim light of his screen, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection—his sunken eyes, his pale skin. What had he sacrificed? Friends, family, everything—just to be the best in a game.

And now, it had all been taken away.

Suddenly, his chest tightened, the ache in his heart intensifying into a sharp, stabbing pain. His vision blurred, and a strangled gasp escaped his throat. He clutched his chest, his body trembling violently. No, no, no… His mind raced as the pain overtook him. His breath came in short, desperate bursts as the world around him faded to black.

Haruto awoke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. But something was wrong—terribly wrong. His limbs felt lighter, his chest no longer aching. His hands, delicate and pale, were not his own. He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his mind.

The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, a grand canopy adorned with ornate fabrics. The room around him was lavish, unlike anything he had ever seen in real life. Panic surged through him as he sat up too quickly, his head spinning. He looked down at his body—small, fragile, draped in silk pajamas far too elegant for the life he had known. His reflection in the nearby mirror revealed a face that was not his own—young, with delicate features, framed by unruly silver hair. And his eyes—bright, unnerving red eyes—stared back at him.

This… this isn't me. Where am I?

He staggered to his feet, his legs trembling, barely able to support his weight. A thousand questions raced through his mind, but no answers came. His head felt as though it was swimming in fog. He knew this place—it was oddly familiar.

His gaze landed on a polished dresser, ornate and old-fashioned, adorned with symbols that tugged at his memory. He froze.

No… It can't be…

His mind reeled as realization set in. This wasn't just any lavish palace—this was the world of Kingdom's Fall, the game he had mastered over the last ten years. And the body he was in… no, it couldn't be. But it was.

I'm Aedan… The Fourth Prince.

His breath hitched in his throat. Prince Aedan—one of the most hated and difficult characters in the entire game. The frail, weak prince, destined to die before he even had a chance to make a mark on the world. No matter how skilled the player, Aedan was doomed to a tragic death in every possible route.

Haruto—or rather, Aedan—stumbled back, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. His thoughts raced. How could this be happening? Why was he here? And more importantly—how the hell was he supposed to survive?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. A maid entered, her steps precise, her expression carefully blank. She set down a tray of food and medicine with practiced efficiency, barely sparing him a glance.

But Haruto—now Aedan—noticed it. The faint look of disdain in her eyes, the way she carried herself with thinly veiled contempt. She thinks I'm weak, he realized, his gaze narrowing. Everyone here must think that.

The maid approached him, noticing his strange behavior. "Your Highness?" she asked, her voice strained with forced politeness. "Is everything all right?"

Aedan flinched at the sound of her voice, momentarily startled. The body he was in—Aedan's frail form—felt so unfamiliar. His limbs were weak, his movements sluggish. He tried to gather himself, to project the calm and authority of a prince, but failed miserably. The maid raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

She stepped closer, her expression a mixture of mild concern and annoyance. As she did, something strange happened. Above her head, a glowing panel appeared, floating in midair. It was just like the stat system from Kingdom's Fall.

Name: Elise, it read. Her attributes were all displayed—Strength: F, Magic: F, Diplomacy: F, Leadership: F, Literature: E, Ambition: D.

Aedan blinked, staring at the panel in disbelief. This can't be real. I'm seeing the game's stat system… in real life?

"Your Highness?" the maid repeated, her tone growing more impatient.

Aedan forced himself to focus. He needed time to think. He needed to understand the situation. "I… I'm fine," he muttered, trying to sound convincing.

The maid eyed him suspiciously but, with a slight shrug, turned to leave. She clearly thought nothing of him, just as everyone in the palace must have. They all see me as weak, useless.

But that's when it hit him.

I'm not Aedan. Not the same Aedan who was destined to die. I'm Haruto. The best player in Kingdom's Fall. And if there was one thing Haruto knew how to do, it was win.

As soon as the maid left, Aedan shot up from the bed, fueled by a newfound determination. I have a month. He knew the game inside and out. The king—his father—was going to be poisoned in a month's time. Civil war would break out soon after. It didn't matter that no one respected him. He had knowledge that no one else did.

His body may have been weak, but his mind was sharp. He could outthink them all. He had to.

Aedan clenched his fists, his red eyes burning with resolve. I will not die like Aedan did in the game. I will survive. I will rise.

He looked around the room, his gaze sharpening as he thought of his next steps. He needed allies. He needed power. And most importantly—he needed to prove that he was not the frail boy everyone thought he was.