Chapter 2: I Tried to Avoid the Plot and Became a Meme Lord Instead

  There’s a phrase I never thought I’d say unironically: “Today, I was milked for content by a talking sword.”

  Let me expin.

  After surviving my first direct encounter with the protagonist (and his... grape-scented compliments), I thought things might calm down. Maybe I’d even get a quiet breakfast and formute a long-term pn.

  Instead, I walked into the grand dining hall to find the butler waiting beside a sentient, glowing longsword embedded in a pte of pancakes.

  “The Oracle wishes to witness the Blessing of the Bde ceremony,” said the butler, as if this were normal.

  The sword pulsed and began to speak in a voice that was half divine, half streamer mic feedback.

  “Yo yo yo, it’s ya boy, SoulrenderXx! Drop those subs and smite some scrubs!”

  I blinked.

  Twitch Chat had decided the protagonist’s sword needed to be a streamer.

  I slumped into my chair at the head of the impossibly long table.

  Today’s breakfast menu:

  Fresh fruit

  Buttered scones

  Existential dread

  “Do I have to bless the sword?” I asked weakly, as the sword unched into a freestyle rap about crit damage and haters.

  The butler nodded solemnly. “It is the will of the Oracle.”

  “MAKE HIM DO A RITUAL”“Lucien rap battle when??”“Baptize the sword in orange juice”“BLESS IT WITH A DAB”

  They were serious.

  I gnced at the chat overy still floating above the sword, shimmering like a divine karaoke machine.

  “Fine,” I muttered, rising dramatically. “Bring forth... the sacred juice.”

  Ten minutes ter, I was standing on the breakfast table, holding a pitcher of orange juice above my head while chanting nonsense words from the back of a cereal box.

  “By the holy fiber of the Blessed Bran and the citrus fmes of Vitamin C,” I intoned, “I dub thee… SoulrenderXx, Bde of Breakfast.”

  “POG”“Lucien got that streamer energy”“He’s a NATURAL”“Clipping this for the Discord”

  The sword glowed. The pancakes caught fire. The butler cpped.

  And somehow, I survived another event.

  This, apparently, was my life now.

  See, most reincarnation stories give the protagonist time to settle in, maybe learn some sword skills, pet a dragon, or flirt with a maid.

  Me? I got Twitch Chat. And Twitch Chat didn’t believe in rest days.

  In the past 48 hours, I’d:

  Been knighted by a talking frog

  Escaped a surprise wedding with the viliness from Route 3

  Accidentally invented bubble tea using potion ingredients

  And witnessed the protagonist convince a wyvern to twerk

  “TWERKVYRN RETURNS”“New party member??”“Wyvern route confirmed?!”

  I needed a strategy. A real one.

  So that night, I locked myself in Lucien’s study—a gothic dreamscape of dark wood, haunted tomes, and cursed-looking armchairs—and started plotting.

  My pn had three goals:

  Avoid Major Death Fgs

  In the original game, Lucien dies in every route.

  By Route 5, even a hug from the protagonist triggers a cursed explosion.

  I needed to stay away from key events… or hijack them.

  Win Over Twitch Chat

  They control the hero, the story direction, and now, apparently, reality physics.

  If I could become their favorite character, maybe they'd spare me.

  Memes were my weapon now.

  Break the Game’s Logic

  Dating sims have code.

  I used to mod these kinds of games.

  If I could find glitches, unused dialogue trees, or unlock hidden fgs, I could carve a new route for myself.

  My first target?

  Princess Aera.

  Lucien’s original love interest. The one who betrayed him to the protagonist in Act 3 with a slow-motion backstab and a tearful monologue about “necessary sacrifice.”

  Her route was already in motion, and she was due to arrive at my estate tomorrow for a political summit. In the game, this would be the moment where Lucien accidentally insults her, triggering a series of events that lead to war.

  Not this time.

  This time, I’d butter her up so much she’d forget betrayal was even an option.

  Morning came. Birds sang. Chat spammed anime emotes. And I, Lucien Arclight, stood at the grand gates, ready to greet the woman destined to ruin me.

  Princess Aera descended from her carriage in a swirl of royal blue silk, her golden curls bouncing like they had their own magical physics engine.

  She looked at me. I looked at her.

  “KISS HER FOOT”“Compliment her dress but insult her shoes”“Lucien, ask her if she believes in aliens”“Start a rap battle AGAIN”

  Before the chaos could take hold, I bowed deeply and offered a sincere, “Welcome, Your Highness. You honor my estate with your radiance.”

  “OMG HE’S SERIOUS???”“Where’s the snark?”“Lucien turning into a husbando???”“Character development?!”

  Aera blinked.

  “You’re… oddly polite today, Duke Arclight.”

  “Merely trying something new. Would you care for rose tea or combat training upon arrival?”

  “FLAWLESS DELIVERY”“Let’s gooooooo”“This is the best route already”

  It worked. Twitch Chat was pleased. Aera was confused. And most importantly, nobody had stabbed me yet.

  Later that afternoon, I escorted her through the Arclight gardens, where she normally throws wine in my face and screams about family curses.

  Instead, she blushed as I complimented her fencing skills and offered her a peach.

  “This is… nice,” she said, taking the fruit.

  I could practically hear the chat vibrating.

  “Is Lucien FLIRTING???”“Aera route getting patched as we speak”“He’s cooking. LET HIM COOK”

  I smiled. “Perhaps fate can be rewritten, Princess.”

  And for once, it felt true.

  Then came disaster.

  Because of course it did.

  We returned to the main hall to find Ren—the protagonist—banced upside-down on a chandelier, singing sea shanties while SoulrenderXx harmonized in autotune.

  “SURPRISE RAID EVENT”“Ren lost a bet to chat”“SINGING SKILL LEVEL +4”

  “Lucien!” he called, hanging like an excited bat. “The Oracle said I should challenge you to a duel… in the style of interpretive mime!”

  I stared at him. Then at the sword. Then at the ceiling.

  “Oh for the love of—”

  “MIME DUEL”“IT’S HAPPENING”“Mods, clip this”

  And that’s how I ended the evening miming an epic swordfight with the protagonist in front of Princess Aera, a confused butler, three bards, and a wyvern wearing sungsses.

  At one point, Ren pretended to impale me with an invisible sword. I responded by dramatically colpsing over a chair and reciting a fake death monologue about taxes and lost love.

  The chat exploded.

  “LMAOOOO”“Oscar-worthy”“Lucien is now Best Girl confirmed”

  I colpsed into bed that night exhausted, mildly traumatized, and oddly hopeful.

  I hadn’t been stabbed. I hadn’t been exiled. And for the first time since waking up in this madness, I felt like I might—might—actually change the story.

  They still saw me as the vilin.

  But maybe I could become the fan-favorite vilin.

  And that? That was how you survived.

  To be continued...