Is It Bad That the Main Character's a Roleplayer? - Chapter 24: Irrevocable (3)

[Shelter System successfully bound to host!][Option One: City of Light, save the survivors in the apocalypse and become a glorious and benevolent savior.][Option Two: City of Darkness, humans who enter the City of Darkness can only become your slaves. And you, will be the devil ruling over the apocalypse.]Sorry, I am no saint, I choose City of Darkness! From today onwards, I will be a villain!

Beatty, a weak squirrel shapeshifter who was born into a lion family. Because of that, I lived my life being ab*sed at my aunt’s house in the Capital. When I told my only friend and fiancé, the Second Prince, that I would leave to achieve my dream, ‘Ritter, you bastard…!’ I died on his fangs. I opened my eyes again to my childhood, the time before I got myself involved with the Second Prince. At times like this, what do you need? Speed. I immediately withdrew my body only and ran away to the territory of my biological father, the Lion Duke. Though I won’t be welcomed, if I possess this one great secret that will only be discovered in the future, I won’t get kicked ou— “Welcome, Young Miss!” “OMG! When did you grow up like this…?” “Young Miss is walking with those two cute feet!” … Huh? Why am I welcomed like this? No way, is that my statue?

He doesn’t know why his mind has been transferred into that of a petty thief named Soran within the VRMMO . The new ‘Soran’ though possesses both the body’s previous occupant’s memories and his own. Using his experience as a Legendary Rogue who had reached the apex known as the Realm of Legends, he will now have to survive in this world which had once been a game to him.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.