Is this a fucking joke?
I cursed as soon as I saw the reflection on mirror, I touched my cheeks and hair, rubbed my eyes in hope of it would be a dream or I was hallucinating. But nothing helped, the same face and the same blond hair and blue eyes that seemed like ice.
Harrison Delacroix.
Just why it had to be him out of all people, there were many different characters out there that I would have become, but out of all those I become him.
I ran a hand through my blonde hair, Harrison was one of the early game boss from the game Crown of shadows I used to play.
That is not the problem here, he was set to due in the first Arc. A deadman walking that is Harrison Delacroix. And now I'm him.
Great, just fucking great.
.
.
.
My name was Noah Everett before I became this guy.
I was a nobody, a walking corpse dragging himself through a 9-to-9 job that paid just enough to keep me alive but not enough to make me feel like a human being.
Games were my only escape, my only drug. Crown of Shadows especially.
And now, somehow, I'm stuck inside it. Not as a hero. Not as some overpowered secret boss.
Nope.
I'm Harrison Delacroix. The ticking time bomb of the early game.
I leaned closer to the mirror, almost daring it to crack and show me my real face.
But it didn't.
The same sharp jawline, the same disgustingly perfect noble features stared back.
The worst part?
I knew the story.
I knew exactly how Harrison dies.
Framed for treason. Executed like a dog in front of a cheering crowd.
My throat went dry.
The game gave you choices to kill Harrison yourself if you hated him enough.
Players joked about speedrunning his death.
He was that pathetic.
And now I'm him.
A dead man on borrowed time.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
As I looked around the room where Harrison was staying.
The room was exactly as I expected—excessive, ostentatious, and completely useless. The walls were lined with expensive paintings that served no purpose other than to show off wealth. A massive four-poster bed loomed in the corner, its heavy velvet curtains drawn back to reveal pristine linens that I wouldn't be caught dead sleeping in. The furniture was ornate, too intricate to actually be practical. Everything was made to scream noble blood without saying a word.
I ran a hand across the polished wood of a dresser—too polished, like it was just there for show. On the desk, half-eaten food was scattered across a sheet of parchment, a broken quill, and a sealed letter, all surrounded by a mess of leftovers from what had probably been some extravagant feast.
Could this life be any more useless? I grimaced, then picked up the letter. It was untouched by the food mess. The seal was still intact, gleaming in the light that filtered through the window. Harrison's letter? I didn't even want to think about what kind of trouble this bastard had gotten into.
Unfolding it with a sigh, I found the handwriting fancy, crisp and formal.
__
"Harrison Delacroix,
Your presence is required immediately at the Delacroix estate. There are urgent matters that must be addressed regarding your recent behavior.
The family awaits your return, and your father, Lord Orson Delacroix, has made his expectations clear.
Do not delay.
Signed,
Lady Marissa Delacroix"
__
I stared at the letter in my hand, the elegant cursive almost mocking me. So, it was from Harrison's family. The Delacroix family.
I could already feel a knot tightening in my stomach. "Urgent matters" didn't sound like the kind of thing I could ignore. What had Harrison done to attract this kind of attention? And why the hell did they sound so... cold? No "we miss you," no "hope you're doing well." Just a direct order from some high-ranking family member.
Lady Marissa? Was she one of Harrison's sisters, a cousin, or some other relative I had to pretend to care about? I didn't know, and honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to. What I did know was that the Delacroix family was one of the oldest and most powerful noble houses in Crown of Shadows. They controlled everything in their territory and lived like kings among men. This wasn't going to be some warm family reunion.
I cursed under my breath again. This letter, the state of the room, the looming reminder of Harrison's inevitable death... It all came crashing down on me in that moment.
I had to play the part. I couldn't afford to let anyone realize that I was stuck inside this body, that I was someone else entirely. No one would believe me, and they'd probably kill me the second I showed any weakness.
Gripping the letter tighter, I glanced around the room again. Every inch of this place screamed wealth and status. Nothing here had any real meaning to me—just another display of the Delacroix family's power.
What now? Do I head to the estate and face whatever mess Harrison had gotten himself into? Do I pretend like I had any idea what was going on?
There was no choice. I had to go.
I crumpled the letter and shoved it into my pocket.
But one thing was clear—this wasn't going to be easy.
As I were standing there my left eye started to pulse, then followed by it a small red dot appeared infront of my vision.
"What the hell is that?" I squinted at the small, glowing red dot floating in my vision. It flickered then expanded into a small transparent screen like the status screen from the games.
=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=
[Criminal Performance System.]
[Name]: Harrison Delacroix
[Age[: 24
[Title]: Noble Scoundrel
[Occupation]: ---
[Affiliation]: Delacroix Noble House
——
LIFE EXPECTANCY: [90 Days Remaining]
Performance Points (P.P): 0
Infamy Rating: D
——
<[Attributes]>
Mana Sensitivity: ★★★★☆
Willpower: ★★★☆☆
Charisma: ★★☆☆☆
Intelligence: ★★★☆☆
Physical Strength: ★★☆☆☆
——
<[Criminals Archive]>
➤ Eyes of Vulture — A passive skill that grants enhanced memory and spatial awareness. After a brief exposure to an environment, the user can recall the layout and other details of the area with sharp clarity, which proves valuable in planning and executing tasks.
➤ Predators Intuition — An instinctive feeling that warns of impending danger or when someone is plotting against the user. This skill sharpens the senses, allowing the user to detect subtle changes in the environment or in people's intentions.
➤ Mask of Innocence — Grants the ability to hide one's true nature, allowing the user to blend into society without raising suspicion. People are less likely to notice anything suspicious about their behavior, even if it's unusual.
——
<[SYSTEM FUNCTIONS]>
➤ Performance Tracker [ACTIVE]
➤ Crime Store [LOCKED]
➤ [???]
➤ [???]
——
<[SPECIAL MECHANICS]>
➤ Crime Streak Bonus [ACTIVE]
➤ Curtain Call Mode [???]
——
[CLOSE] [HELP?]
=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=
I stared at the screen in disbelief, my heart skipping a beat.
What. The. Hell.
It was like a nightmare, but no matter how much I blinked or rubbed my eyes, the screen stayed there, floating like a digital ghost in the corner of my vision.
This... system? Was this some kind of sick joke? Or was this another twisted feature of being stuck in Harrison's body?
I stared at the glowing screen, my mind racing to understand what was happening. The red text, the countdown, the skills... Everything about this was wrong, but the longer I stared at it, the more it felt like reality. No escaping this nightmare.
I could feel the weight of it on my chest, squeezing my lungs tight, suffocating me. 90 days—that was all I had left. A dead man walking, just like Harrison.
I needed answers. Anything to make sense of this sick game I was caught in. My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling slightly. I couldn't do this. I couldn't keep going without knowing what the hell was going on.
With a deep breath, I pressed the glowing HELP? option at the bottom of the screen, desperate for any information, any kind of explanation that would make this feel less like some twisted joke and more like something I could control.
The screen flickered.
Another page popped up, this time with even more unnerving text.
___
[Criminal Performance System - HELP]
LIFE EXPECTANCY SYSTEM
Your life expectancy is based on your Performance Points (P.P.). Complete illegal actions or crimes to increase your P.P. and extend your time.
Failing to act will cause your Life Expectancy to decrease.
Your current Life Expectancy is 90 Days. This time is limited. Once the timer hits zero, you will be permanently eliminated from the system.
___
I felt my stomach drop. Elimination? What did that mean?
I quickly scrolled down, hoping to find some way out of this mess, some way to defy the system. But it only got worse.
___
[PERFORMANCE POINTS AND CRIMINAL ACTIVITY]
Every criminal act increases your Performance Points (P.P.). More severe crimes grant more points.
You can gain points by breaking the law, committing treason, or manipulating others into doing so.
Crime Store:It allows you to purchase items or advantages, but only once you've accumulated enough points.
Crime Streak Bonus:The longer you commit crimes without being caught, the greater the bonus to your points.
Curtain Call Mode: [Unavailable]
___
This was worse than I thought. The system was giving me a deadline—90 days to act, or I'd be wiped out. But if I made the wrong move, if I didn't play along perfectly, I could lose everything in an instant. There was no room for mistakes, no space for hesitation. This wasn't just surviving anymore—it was about playing a deadly game where one wrong move could cost me my life.
I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my racing heart. Every part of me screamed to scream. To break down. To throw this thing out of my head. But I couldn't. Harrison's life was no longer his. It was mine, and I had no choice but to live it.
My hands shook as I clicked the CLOSE button, the screen vanishing. I stood there in the silence of the room, the reality of what I'd just read sinking in.
I had no idea what Harrison had done to get into this mess, but I sure as hell wasn't going to end up like him—dead before my time. There was no escape from this game. There was no choice but to play it.
With a shaky breath, I grabbed the crumpled letter from my pocket again, the cold, harsh words from the Delacroix family staring back at me.
"Urgent matters," they'd said. The family wanted to see Harrison.
Whatever Harrison had done, it was bad. I could feel it in my gut. And whatever it was, I was about to get caught in the middle of it.
I could either let this system swallow me whole, or I could take control.
The clock was ticking. And I needed to make my move before the system did.