Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

Vince Cleverly strolled through the bustling streets of the Academy City's entertainment district, hands in his pockets, and a smug little smirk on his lips.

The first-years weren't allowed in these parts of the entertainment district until after their semi-final exams, but Vince was one of the Top Ten in his batch.

And the Top Ten had privileges.

He was just leaving a private gambling lounge, walking out like he owned the place.

Which, in a way, he did.

Not officially, of course — but when you knew the right people, owed the right favors, and had a mind sharper than a guillotine, ownership was just a technicality.

At six feet tall, with neatly styled light blue hair and keen gray eyes full of condescending humor — like he was always in on a joke no one else knew — Vince gave off the air of a man who had never lost a gamble in his life.

Which would be true.

With more Credits in his account than yesterday, he hummed a catchy melody to himself and made his way back to his dorm.

His 'room' was actually a luxury apartment in one of the high-rise complexes on Alaron Street, with amenities that only top-tier Cadets or noble brats could afford.

When he reached his door, he fished out his keycard, twirling it between his fingers before swiping it against the lock.

The door slid open with a soft chime.

He stepped inside, taking off the new watch that he legally swindled from some poor fool and his shades, tossing both into the valet tray by the entry hall.

Then, he closed the door behind him and moved through the living area, heading toward his bedroom—

The motion-sensor lights flicked on.

—And that was when he saw him.

A golden-haired boy sitting on his sofa, legs spread comfortably, one arm draped over the backrest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His dark gray robe hung loosely off his shoulders, and his sharp golden eyes gleamed with something between humor and boredom.

There was an unsettling confidence to him — the kind that made people either admire or despise him.

"Aaah!" Vince shrieked, stumbling back and clutching his chest like he might actually have a heart attack.

Without thinking, he grabbed a cushion from a nearby chair and threw it at the intruder. Naturally, the golden-haired young man swatted it away with casual ease.

"Who—" Vince started, but then his eyes narrowed and recognition hit him. "Wait. Samael Kaizer Theosbane?! Why the fuck are you in my apartment?!"

But before Samael could answer, Vince shook his head.

"Okay, let's see…" He stepped further inside, composing himself. "You here to kill me, blackmail me, or bribe me, aren't you? Or — wait, let me guess again — some ungodly combination of the three?"

Samael grinned. "Relax. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't be sitting on your couch. And why would I want you dead, anyway?"

Vince threw his hands up defensively. "Because you heard I was spreading nasty rumors about you? Look, let me be very clear — I had nothing to do with that! That was some other guy!"

Samael barely stopped himself from laughing. "Not here for that."

Vince blinked. "Then… is it because you heard I've been scamming freshmen out of their allowance? Because, uh, that's a baseless accusation! Completely untrue! And even if it were true — which it's not — those kids were practically begging to be scammed. It was natural selection and all that."

Samael's grin widened. "Again, not here for that. Not here for anything you 'allegedly' didn't do. Trust me."

Vince tilted his head, studying the golden-haired young man for a long moment.

Then he nonchalantly strolled over to his minibar and poured himself a drink — without offering one to his guest.

"Well, that's reassuring," he drawled. "Because nothing says 'trustworthy' like breaking into someone's home and waiting for them in the dark."

He took a sip, watching Samael over the rim of his glass. "And how did you even get in? No, wait, don't tell me. Let's just assume you did something only mildly illegal and move on. Instead, why don't you tell me why you're in my house, sitting on my couch, making yourself at home like you pay rent?"

Samael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as a few strands of golden hair fell loose before his eyes. "I have a problem. You have a solution. I think we can work together and make a ton of profit."

Vince let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, buddy. If I had a gold coin for every time someone said that to me, I'd own this Academy."

"You'll like this one," Samael countered smoothly. "I heard from someone you're the guy who knows how to make problems disappear."

Vince turned and placed his glass on the minibar counter. "Okay, let's narrow this down. Is this problem related to business or pleasure?"

Samael looked thoughtful for a moment. "Eh… a bit of both?"

Vince grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's never good. If it was just business, I could charge you. If it was just pleasure, I could tell you to fuck off. But a mix? That's work. And I don't like work."

Samael chuckled. "I need a favor. We can work out a deal that benefits both of us."

Vince immediately spun on his heel and strode toward the door.

"Nope. Get out. I don't deal in favors. Favors lead to debts, debts lead to trouble, and trouble—" He turned, jabbing a finger at Samael. "—seems like your whole brand. I do business, loopholes, technicalities — things with clear terms and deniability. Not favors."

Samael remained seated, completely unfazed. "It involves money."

Vince froze mid-step. His fingers twitched. His jaw clenched like a man resisting the temptation of something he was addicted to. "…How much money?"

Samael smirked. "Enough that you'd consider breaking your one rule."

Vince narrowed his eyes. "That's cute. But you should know, I have at least five rules. And second on the list is that I don't involve myself with the likes of you."

Samael arched a brow. "Westerners?"

Vince was from the Southern Safe-Zone, and many of his people didn't like those from the West because of the long history between them.

The summary of it was that Duke Arthur's father did something to them, so they tried to wage a war against the Theosbanes.

But the Western Monarch effortlessly crushed them. In response, the Southern Monarch did something to one of the other Ducal houses of the West, the Zynx family.

Many more noble houses got involved as well, leading to what was called – The War Of Glory. And by the time the dust was settled, a cycle of hatred was born.

"No. I'm not a racist." Vince scowled. "I meant nobles. I don't deal with nobles. So you'd better be ready to pay me real money."

Samael smirked, his golden eyes locking onto Vince's. "Don't worry. I'll pay you enough that you'll stop pretending you don't want to hear what the job is about."

Vince scoffed. "Weren't you disowned by your clan? So unless you're planning to steal Daddy Theosbane's city of gold and hand it over to me, I doubt I'll agree to work with you."

Samael's smirk widened. But he didn't say a word.

Instead, he stood, shrugged off his robe, and grabbed it by the hem, flipping it upside down like he was shaking out laundry.

Vince opened his mouth to ask what the hell he was doing— Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

Tap—

But just then, something small and round tumbled to the floor from the robe's inner pocket, rolling to a stop near his feet.

It was a radiant crimson sphere as big as a golf ball, shimmering like a ruby.

Then another dropped — this one a deep emerald green. Then another — this one pearlescent. All shining like colorful stars.

And then—

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap—!!

One after another, the glowing orbs rained down, scattering across the apartment floor, their luminous hues casting colorful reflections against the walls.

Reds, blues, greens – each one of them was a mid to high-grade Essence Stone.

Yes, they weren't jewels. They were real Essence Stones!

Far more precious than gold and diamonds! It was the kind of wealth that could pay his rent, tuition, and monthly expenses for months. Each.

Vince stared.

His brain refused to process what just happened.

Because surely, surely, this rich son of a bitch did not just casually shake out a fortune from his robe like he was emptying cookie crumbs.

He rubbed his eyes. Nope. Still there.

He squinted. Maybe a mirage? A trick of the light?

He turned off the motion-sensor lights. Waited. Turned them back on. Still there.

Slowly, his gaze dragged back up to Samael — who had the audacity to look bored!

"…You just carry those around in your pockets?" Vince asked, keeping his voice dangerously calm.

Samael shrugged like it was a stupid question. "Where else would I keep them?"

Vince inhaled sharply through his nose. Exhaled even sharper through his teeth.

Then, after one more long stare at the absurd pile of wealth now sitting in his apartment, he cursed, "Damn it. I hate when rich people are right."

Samael's smirk turned downright smug. Like a cat watching a trapped mouse.

"So," he said smoothly, "I take it you're convinced?"

Vince sighed, then, a shameless grin appeared on his face just as naturally as one would breathe. He rubbed his hands together like a greedy merchant.

"But of course, M'lord!" he said, voice dripping with exaggerated servitude. "Any way this humble subject of yours can be of use is a pleasure to me!"