Death wasn't dramatic.
I wasn't hit by a truck, or killed by a jealous husband, or struck by lightning.
I died hunched over my computer, my fingers still on the keyboard, my eyes on the glowing screen of Let Me Game in Peace.
I had been grinding a raid all night. No food. No water. No sleep. When the chest finally dropped the legendary loot, my heart gave out.
Pathetic, right? Dying for pixels.
When I opened my eyes again, the light above me wasn't a monitor—it was sunlight. The smell wasn't of stale instant noodles—it was damp earth and dust. And the bed beneath me… hard, unfamiliar, cheap.
I sat up slowly. My chest ached. My head swam.
This wasn't my room.
It was old, worn, the kind of place you'd expect in a low-rank academy dorm. A cracked desk, a stiff chair, faded curtains. And on the desk, half-hidden under a pile of books, sat a phone.
A familiar phone.
I knew this scene. I'd read it before. Zhou Wen, the protagonist of Let Me Game in Peace, would soon find this phone and begin his journey.
Except… I was here first.
I stumbled to the desk and picked it up. The screen lit instantly, though I hadn't pressed anything.
Initializing System…
Welcome, Player.
My breath caught. This wasn't the same as the novel.
Special Functions Unlocked:
– Dungeon Capture: Photograph any dimensional zone to download it.
– Absolute Drop: Every kill has a chance to yield Companion Eggs, rarity increased by Luck.
– Immortal Loop: Player and Companions grow stronger through death and revival.
– Crossbreed Gene Fusion: Compatible with female humanoid Companions for shared evolution.
– Luck Stat: MAX.
I froze.
Not only did I transmigrate into Zhou Wen's body—I had a different version of the phone. A better one.
I sat heavily on the bed, clutching the device, my heart racing.
"Okay. Think."
I wasn't Zhou Wen. I was me—some dead gamer, dropped into his body before the story began. Which meant canon was mine to change.
And this phone… this was my lifeline.
I scrolled through the menus, trying to steady my breathing. I wasn't OP yet. Not like the Zhou Wen I remembered who would eventually grind endless hours into becoming a monster.
But unlike him, I didn't need dimensional symbols. I didn't need anyone's permission. All I had to do was point this camera and click.
The thought made me laugh bitterly. "A selfie stick for dungeons."
The laugh died quickly. Because underneath the humor, reality sank in.
I had died. My old world was gone. My family, my body, everything.
And now I was here, in a dangerous world where dimensional zones spat out monsters, where factions controlled lives, and where one mistake could get me killed permanently.
I clutched the phone tighter.
"…No. Not permanently."
Because if this system was telling the truth, even death wasn't the end.
It was fuel.
I stared at the phone for what felt like hours, breathing slowly, sorting through the haze of shock and excitement.
This wasn't a game. This was survival.
If I wanted to live—no, if I wanted to thrive—I couldn't just copy Zhou Wen. I had to be smarter. Cunning. Patient.
And above all, selfish.
This world would try to use me, control me, break me. The An family, the Academy, the dimensional overlords. But I had something none of them did: the cheat.
And I wasn't planning to share.
The door creaked open.
"Zhou Wen?"
A voice. Familiar. Cold.
I turned, and there she was—An Jing. White clothes, calm expression, her eyes like still water.
She frowned slightly, as if sensing something was different.
"You skipped class again."
My lips curved. Despite everything—the death, the fear, the rebirth—I laughed softly.
Some things never changed.