If there's one thing I'm good at, it's smiling like I mean it while lying through my teeth.
And women? Oh, women love a man who "just needs a little help until his paycheck comes in."
Three months. Three glorious, rent-free months of living off other people's kindness—though they'd probably call it "being scammed."
I called it "creative survival."
But now? Now I was sprinting for my life through the streets, three furious women hot on my heels.
"Sean! YOU STILL OWE ME THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS!" screeched the first, pure rage in her voice.
"LIAR! YOU SAID WE HAD A FUTURE!" sobbed the second, her words soaked in betrayal.
The third shrieked, "GIVE ME BACK MY SAVINGS, YOU MANIPULATIVE—!"
I would've been touched by their passion if they weren't directing it at my impending doom.
Honestly, what did I do wrong? They were miserable before I met them, and I did my best to make them happy.
I darted into an alley, lungs burning. I needed an escape. A miracle. Divine intervention. Anything.
And then I saw it.
A delivery truck loaded with watermelons, ramp down, practically begging to be part of my dramatic getaway.
I grinned.
In my head, I'd leap onto the ramp, land like an action star, roll to safety, and vanish into the night.
Reality, however, had other plans.
My foot slipped on the very first melon.
I skidded forward, arms flailing, kicked another one, and—before I knew it—was surfing a wave of rolling watermelons straight into the street.
Honk! HONK!
The last thing I saw were the blinding headlights of a speeding car.
The last thing I heard was those women chasing me screaming, "No! Don't leave me! I forgive you! Just don't die!"
Huh. Guess their love for me was stronger than my sins.
I never thought I'd die like this—cheap, humiliated, and empty-handed.
No family to mourn me, no one to shed a tear. Just an orphan who scraped by on scams and charm, convincing himself it was survival.
But as the darkness closed in, one truth burned in me: I don't want this to be the end.
If I ever get another chance—just one—I won't waste it on petty tricks.
I'll rise. I'll achieve something worth remembering.
And when death comes again, it won't be in shame.
It will be in glory.
Then—darkness.
---
Chirping birds. Fresh air. Sunlight warming my face.
…Hold on. Since when does death come with sunshine and birdsong?
I pried my eyes open and froze. The ceiling above me was high, ornate, and very much not the cracked plaster of my shoebox apartment.
I pushed myself up slowly. The bed beneath me was absurdly soft—the kind of mattress I used to dream about while sleeping on springs that tried to murder my back. The air smelled clean, almost sweet. And through the tall window stretched a view of endless green hills, rolling like waves beneath the sky.
…This definitely wasn't the afterlife I was expecting.
Before I could sort my thoughts, a voice cut in.
"You're finally awake. Do you know how worried I was?"
I turned. A man in his forties stood near the bed. Tall, broad-shouldered—the kind of person who looked like he belonged chopping wood or commanding soldiers. His face wasn't particularly handsome, but it carried weight—serious, tired, shadowed with a worry he didn't bother to hide.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked. "You shouldn't be standing yet."
"I'm okay, Father," I replied automatically.
The words slipped out before I even thought about them, startling me so much I nearly bit my tongue. Father? Since when did I have a dad who looked like he walked out of a medieval drama?
But the man just gave a small nod, satisfied.
"Good. Then rest. You've been unconscious for days after your accident. Your departure for the academy is near. I worry whether you can travel in this condition. Rest first—once you've recovered, we'll discuss the future of the house."
He turned and left without another word, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor.
…Accident? What accident? Academy?
Last I checked, I got flattened by a speeding car after surfing on watermelons like a discount action hero.
Why would I need to go to an academy? And would they even take someone with a fraud record?
My head throbbed. Pain lanced through my skull, and in an instant, memories that weren't mine shoved themselves into place. Jin Hansen. Seventeen. Youngest son of some backwater noble family with more debts than cows.
I remembered my carriage accident. In two weeks, I was supposed to travel to the capital to attend the most prestigious academy for nobles. Not to study, but to find a marriage partner who could save the Hansen house.
My mouth went dry. Wait. Don't tell me—
And then I saw it.
A glowing screen flickered into existence right in front of me.
[ Fraud System Activated ]
[ Rule #1: Every lie told well is a step toward greatness ]
…The hell?
Lines of text scrolled across the panel:
[ Fraud System ]
Name: Jin Hansen
Age: 17
Fraud Points: 0
Level: 1
Special Trait: Outsmart others to earn Fraud Points.
Usage: Points can be exchanged for Skills or Knowledge (cost varies by value, depth, or secrecy).
Note: Mystical Rewards are granted only by the System. Bonus Rewards may be given for clever, risky, or high-impact scams.
I stared. Then I laughed. Loud. Almost manic.
"Oh-ho… now this is my kind of divine blessing."
No sword. No magic fireballs. No sacred destiny.
A system that rewards me for lying? For scamming? For doing what I already do best?
I staggered to a mirror across the room. The reflection that met me was enough to make me whistle. A tall, absurdly handsome young man stared back—platinum-blond hair, sharp blue eyes, the kind of face that could launch a thousand marriage proposals.
So this was Jin Hansen. Outskirts noble. Poor. Weak. Practically irrelevant.
The Hansen family was an insignificant noble house, tucked away on the empire's border. The only thing worth bragging about was its long history—and even that didn't put food on the table.
Still… better than being a commoner. At least I had a sliver of noble blood, a family name, and this flawless face. Enough to gain a foothold—if I played my cards right.
And now? I had a system that rewarded me for deceiving people.
I grinned, slow and sharp.
In my last life, I conned women out of rent money. In this one… I'll con the world out of crowns and thrones.
The Hansen family might be dirt now, but I'll rebuild it from the ground up. Wealth, power, influence—I'll take it all.
And this time, I won't die forgotten.