I Became the Narrow-Eyed Character in the Little Prince Game

Four years ago.
At that time, I was enduring an excruciatingly lonely season.

It had been several months since I was abruptly pulled into this world.
The fate of "possession" forced upon me without a moment’s preparation was nothing but confusing.
Perhaps it was what people called a cruel joke of destiny, or maybe it was an inevitable execution of fate—but one thing was certain: there was no way back.

In the end, I had to struggle repeatedly to survive.
"What kind of role… am I supposed to play here?"
A world on the brink of destruction.

If that was the case,
Then the conclusion I had to change was all too clear.
Maybe it was a selfish interpretation born out of my own greed, but I resolved to live, bearing the uncertain mission I had been handed.

I stepped onto the thorny path of uncertainty for that reason.
That choice marked the beginning of a fierce life.
The Succession War.

It was the event closest to the time I was possessed and an event I had to intervene in if I wanted to alter the original story’s future.
A battle for influence among criminal organizations vying to swallow the underworld.
But calling it a mere dispute wouldn’t do justice to its scale—it was a massive upheaval that even shook the empire’s political structure.

The countless names clashing out of greed influenced the very fabric of the original story.
At the forefront stood the [Sovereign], who had ruled the empire’s shadows until now, challenged by major figures of the underworld and countless criminal organizations steeped in violence.
A world teeming with filth needed cleaning.

Originally,
This war was meant to last five years.
The allure of ambition was maddening.
Violence and plunder turned frail humans into demons, pushing them toward an endless hell.

For the promise of a better life, people willingly donned the shackles of sin.
It was profoundly "adult."
"I have to… stop it."

A world ablaze with blood and fire.
Massacres perpetuated in horrifying cycles.
Corpses piling beneath showers of arrows, and barbarians smirking vilely while standing atop rotting flesh.

It was a tragedy—or perhaps a farce—that starkly depicted the meaning of the lowest depths.
Yet in the midst of this, the saddest cries came from those completely innocent.
My first step had to point toward saving them.

Of course,
Preventing destruction was the priority.
In the original story, it was the root of tragedy.

The prolonged war festered the empire’s underbelly, leaving even the royal family powerless to intervene as it fell into chaos.
To make matters worse, dark magicians eventually allied with the underworld.
The Succession War in this world was nothing short of the catalyst for all calamity.

"Besides… I have to find it before it awakens."
It.
The first trigger for the world’s downfall.

A disaster I intended to deal with in advance.
With those thoughts, I left the comfort of the mansion and stepped into the filthiest depths.
At that time, I couldn’t think of any better solution.

There was no one to rely on.
Suddenly,
Abandoned in a lonely world,

I hesitated in this life thrust upon me, faltered in confusion, wrestled with regret, and finally chose to move forward.
Promising myself that this would be my last game.
Letting go of you.

"I’ll be back."
The mansion, silent in response.
The struggles of living as another person—a possessed soul—were none of my concern.

I didn’t need to deceive the connections this body had built.
After all, the family didn’t care about me.
No.

To be precise, they treated me as if I didn’t exist.
The months I spent in the mansion felt like a cold season.
Aside from basic conversations during meals or hygiene routines, no one showed me any interest or affection.

Even after disappearing for over a week, no one made an effort to find me.
That place felt like a dollhouse made entirely of lies.
"What kind of life… did Yuda live?"

The hidden side of this betrayer.
At the time, I had my doubts but soon erased the question from my mind.
The storm looming ahead was overwhelming enough.

And so,
I walked into the tempest.
Huff, huff…!

A war I recklessly plunged into.
From that day forward, it was a continuous cycle of pain and intensity.
The overwhelming stench of blood consumed everything.

I was alone.
Struggling with unfamiliar powers, killing the filth scattered in the streets, hiding from pursuers at night, liberating those in anguish, and pushing forward.
The first time I was drenched in someone else’s blood, it felt sticky and lukewarm.

There were days when I vomited countless times.
But to survive, hesitation was not an option.
Back then, even my ability to lie wasn’t as refined as it is now, and when my strength waned, I hid in places like sewers.

Even amidst the suffocating stench, I had no choice.
Gag… cough!
That was the rule of the underworld.

The bottom rung of society eradicated anything pure or genuine.
Only those who abandoned dignity and self-respect survived.
Society had a name for those who persisted in such depravity.

Trash.
We were nothing more than discarded waste in a landfill.
We killed, stole, chased, trampled—adopting every ruthless method adults used to survive.

It was as if we were gambling to see who could drag the other lower.
I was no different.
Under the pretext of uprooting evil, I became indistinguishable from it.

That’s why I loathed the memories of those days.
"Should I… just give it all up?"
Occasionally, despair consumed me.

I thought I had grown accustomed to the adult world from my previous life, but its unending depravity proved otherwise, ensnaring me relentlessly.
Even the faint purity that had once existed in me was completely devoured.
I repeated a frigid war.

"The bleeding won’t stop… should I stitch it up like last time?"
At times, loneliness weighed heavily.
Leaning against the corner of a sewer, treating my torn body with trembling hands, I felt the emptiness gnawing at me.

But in that hollow despair, no tears fell.
Perhaps my emotions had dried up.
Life grew colder and colder.

Even so, time passed.
Alone, I cleansed the underworld of its criminal organizations, erasing future threats from the story one by one.
The chaos burned out like a weak flame before it could fully ignite into madness.

In the original story, the war lasted five years.
But I ended the Succession War in less than three months.
It was the reward for my relentless struggle.

Huff, huff…
Heavy breaths escaped me.
After eradicating every underworld faction, I finally destroyed the last remaining kingdom.

That kingdom referred to the realm ruled by the sovereign.
The white-haired old man coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Cough…!

 
The person who had given me the most trouble during the war.
A man with a vast network of influence spanning the continent, overwhelming strength as an individual, and schemes sharp enough to topple his enemies with cunning.

If anyone deserved the title of the unofficial strongest, it was him.
Even if, in the end, he had fallen.
"It’s over now."

The aftermath of the fierce battle lingered around us.
The castle and streets were left in ruin, bearing the scars of devastation.
The old man knelt, battered and broken.

His body was soaked in blood, his once-pristine attire reduced to rags, and his severed right arm lay discarded on the ground.
A sword had pierced through his left chest.
I stood with my blade buried in the old man’s heart.

A faint pulse resonated through the hilt.
"Don’t struggle."
"So… this is how it ends."

The old man muttered, his voice resigned as he accepted his fate.
I gazed at him calmly.
His body was a bloody wreck, but mine wasn’t much better.

Even breathing was painful, my strength drained to the point where even basic first aid felt impossible.
I clenched my teeth, swallowing the pain.
"The relentless Succession War ends today."

"And how is it? The feeling of being the last victor standing at the end of all this war…?"
"…Hollow."
I replied quietly.

The blood on my hands.
The lines I had drawn between life and death were simple.
I destroyed any factions that had aided the dark magicians in the original story and crushed the others enough to render them incapable of resurgence.

Even now, the reason I wasn’t killing the old man in front of me was the same.
He was one of the few figures in the underworld who had refused to ally with the dark magicians.
Whether it was out of disdain for their sinister power or due to some memory from his past, I didn’t know.

Still, I deemed him a valuable asset to keep alive.
Slowly, I withdrew the sword from his heart.
Shkk.

As the blade left his body, the gaping wound in his chest healed.
I had restored it with magic.
However—

"This isn’t mercy."
Within his heart remained a spell I had woven with lies.
A curse planted to prevent him from acting on his own.

If I spoke the activation phrase, the spell would detonate instantly.
The curse was also designed to trigger if my life functions ceased, leaving no room for preemptive strikes on his part.
The old man seemed to feel the binding of the spell on his heart.

A weary chuckle escaped him.
"Heh heh… So you’re sparing me after all. You really are an amusing fellow."
Kneeling, the old man spoke, his aged eyes cold and unnervingly deep.

I responded.
"From now on, you’re nothing but a puppet."
"A puppet, you say…?"

"If you disobey my orders, I’ll claim that heart of yours immediately."
"So this is a deal?"
"More like paying the price."

"Of course, there’s no right to refuse… A loser must accept their fate."
"Wise decision."
"Still, it’s a shame. I almost won. Just one slight misstep, and the victory would’ve been mine."

"You truly were monstrously strong."
He was right.
I had faced death numerous times and exhausted every ounce of my strength before I could pierce his heart.

Had anything gone slightly awry, I would have been the one to lose.
I exhaled shakily.
The old man looked up at me and asked,

"As the victor… by the name of this rightful war, is there something more you desire?"
"Of course."
I answered without hesitation.

After all, it was the objective I had set as my top priority when I first stepped into the underworld.
I spoke of the seed of destruction.
"The last member of your personal guard, the one you’ve kept hidden all this time… your Faithless."

The Sovereign’s guard was composed of five individuals.
Yet only four had appeared during the war.
The remaining one was likely imprisoned underground.

A monster with an overwhelming talent for slaughter, kept close but sealed away due to their uncontrollable power.
I demanded the being the Sovereign had concealed.
"Faithless. I will be taking her."

"…Ha."
The old man let out a hollow laugh.
His dazed eyes stared ahead as he murmured.

"Something I kept so meticulously secret… Yet you seem to know everything I hide, as if you can see the future."
"And your answer?"
"Does it even matter anymore?"

The Sovereign nodded as if it were of no consequence.
"Do as you wish."
He calmly revealed the coordinates.

An isolated prison.
Upon confirming the information, I turned away.
My staggering steps left behind the shattered throne as I departed the ruins of the underworld.

It was time for the boy to meet the seed of destruction.
Fittingly,
The season was just turning to winter.

The coldest winter of all.
***
For over three days, I wandered.

At the end of my aimless journey through desolate landscapes, I found what I had been searching for: an underground prison hidden within the ruins.
Dragging my still-aching legs, I approached the structure.
Under normal circumstances, the journey shouldn’t have taken this long, but exhaustion had slowed me down significantly.

I’d have to devise a more efficient means of travel for the future.
Now that I think about it… What was her name? Injustice?
Wouldn’t it be convenient to have someone with spatial abilities like hers?

I mentally filed the thought for later and pushed away the idle distractions as I descended into the basement.
At the bottom of a long staircase, I came upon the sight of thick iron bars lining the prison cells.
Devices designed to suppress mana hummed faintly around me.

I knew I was in the right place.
Clink.
A faint noise came from beyond the bars.

Soon, a soft voice followed.
"Who…?"
A shadow emerged into view.

Even in the oppressive darkness, the figure of a silver-haired girl shone brilliantly.
Chains bound her arms and legs, wrapped around her several times over.
"So, we finally meet."

I observed her closely.
Her delicate features were striking, undeniably beautiful.
But scattered across her body were the marks of violence.

It seemed the Sovereign had resorted to brute force to maintain control over her.
Cuts and bruises marred her skin, with vivid blue welts on her face.
Seeing her like this stirred a long-buried memory of my previous life.

As a child, I had suffered under the hands of abusive parents.
Perhaps it was that similarity that struck a chord in me.
"I’ve come to take you away."

"…?"
She stared at me warily, her gaze guarded.
I extended a hand through the bars.

Her suspicious eyes didn’t falter, but I simply smiled and spoke.
Softly, gently, I wove my words with care.
"Don’t you need a name?"

It was an unexpected question.
But that was how it began for the two of us.