“Lomio Arkadi, profession: Assassin!”
A cold voice echoed through the grand hall, yanking Lomio’s muddled consciousness back to reality.
In his ears, the sound of bones being crushed by immense force faded away along with the pain in his body.
Lomio realized he was standing at the center of a grand chamber illuminated by floating candles, with a timeworn card glowing softly before him.
On the card, a leering shadow was depicted attempting to sneak about—under the illumination of holy light, it looked just like a clown.
Beneath it, an engraving read: [Assassin: Rank D]—an ordinary phrase, but one packed with insult.
“Heh, a man.”
From below the stage, a contemptuous female voice sounded, as if appraising some inferior commodity.
“Good-looking, I’ll give him that. But he’s an Assassin—a pretty face with no substance.”
“If only he were a Mage, even a Warrior, he might be of some use. Assassin? A rat in the sewers.”
The biting remarks bored into his ears, and Lomio’s fragmented memories from crossing over finally pieced themselves together—his eyes grew clear and bright.
“What the—wait a second, I’ve got less than ten years of life left?!”
Lomio nearly ground his teeth to dust.
“So the electronics factory really did drain my lifespan! It wasn’t easy to score nine golds in a ten-draw, was it?”
One moment, I hit the jackpot; the next, I get run over by a dump truck—karma sure comes fast!
Maybe ten years of lifespan was already my limit, and this transmigration speed even outpaces my group mates!?
Classic, just classic.
“My paycheck from last month’s not even spent yet! Wait… Huh, this isn’t so bad!”
Lomio noticed the fine clothes he was wearing.
Gold-embroidered lines, a dignified appearance, and a chain of pure gold across his chest—a clear display of wealth.
He’d actually been reborn into a prestigious family!
Did someone just stick a golden key straight in my mouth?!
“Never have I experienced such wondrous—”
Suppressing the urge to laugh, Lomio lifted his head, only to feel that, actually, he was a bit too plain.
Below the stage, all were dressed in refined noble attire, but the gender ratio was absurdly skewed.
As far as the eye could see, there were only haughty, self-assured young ladies. The few scattered men, without exception, kept their heads down, as meek as lambs awaiting slaughter.
One to nine?
No, even more ridiculous.
Countless unfamiliar memories surged up. Lomio felt his two decades of understanding about life taking a massive blow.
“W-wondrous, really?”
Female-dominated world, yuri game?
After comparing both sets of memories, Lomio’s initial joy faded, and even turned to horror!
“Why does this feel… just like that money-grabbing mobile game?!”
Any wicked thoughts sparked by a hall full of beautiful girls were instantly doused in ice-cold water.
“So not only did I transmigrate to a female-dominated world, I drew a sewer-class profession on top of that?!”
Braving the disdainful and amused gazes, Lomio forced himself to stay calm, kept a straight face, and stepped down from the platform to return to his seat.
“I have to start struggling right away!”
Lomio Arkadi, son of the Border Count.
In the yuri game with a similar setting he’d played, this was a minor mob without even a portrait—destined to be swept away by the tides.
And in this world, just being a man was already original sin.
“If I withdraw now and run back to the countryside, is it too late?”
Just run for it, inherit the title, and live peacefully as a pampered noble—Lomio truly considered it.
But he couldn’t.
At the Capital Academy, defiance was tantamount to challenging royal authority.
The outcome: family disgrace, title stripped.
The countship his father fought a lifetime to protect would be wiped out instantly.
Go home like that? Lomio would just be waiting for his own health bar to hit zero.
“Even if I lay low, I can’t avoid it. There’s a border war late-game—wouldn’t I still get dragged in?”
Lomio remembered a few casually delivered lines from the main story.
[Border conflict intensifies; several noble territories fall, families wiped out.]
Unfortunately, the Arkadi Family was on that list of destruction.
“Worked my guts out for the boss in the factory, now forced to work by fate here too? Absolutely unbeatable.”
He sighed, eyes dulling.
His one way out—lying low and living idly in the countryside—was now completely blocked.
He not only had to graduate to keep his title, but also needed enough strength before then to survive a war that could break out at any time.
“Haha, I must be dreaming. I didn’t actually get hit by a dump truck—I just fell asleep cosplaying as a speed bump…”
Thinking of the profession he just awakened, Lomio couldn’t help but laugh.
In this world, Assassin was synonymous with sewer-class. Growth was steep, combat potential laughable.
Face a Mage or Warrior of equal level, and you’d get stomped into the ground.
Trying to assassinate a boss? May as well charge into an army by yourself.
No matter how he looked at it, it was a dead end.
“Damn, am I never going to wake up?”
After pinching his own thigh several times, the pain clearly told Lomio:
No escape!
“Hoo… It’s fine. At this point, panicking won’t help.”
Chewing over that bitter chicken soup, Lomio’s will to survive soared!
Since any involvement with women spelled misfortune, was there a way to avoid it altogether?
Yes, brother—there has to be a way!
With his noble birth, if he played it cautious, kept his little head from being ruled by the big one, maybe—just maybe—he could turn the tables.
I have to live comfortably!
“First: avoid women.”
“Second: get stronger.”
“…I guess there’s nothing else to pay attention to.”
Recalling the story, Lomio calculated every possible path to destruction.
Dorm assignment would likely be the first plot trigger.
Lomio Arkadi’s infamous villainy all began with the “two-timing playboy” rumors in his background story, which gradually escalated until he became the classic hated antagonist among players.
But let’s be real—with a face like his, even if he awakened a sewer-class job, his neighboring dorm would still be a hotly contested auction item.
So the solution was clear.
“I need to get a man to live next door—form a mutual defense alliance, cover for each other!”
Having decided, Lomio scanned the crowd for a target.
The results were discouraging.
Everywhere he looked, there were only teasing, indifferent, or outright predatory gazes.
“No, my logic’s off.”
Lomio changed his thinking.
“What’s rare is precious. In a place like this, men are the focus. I should look where the gazes are most concentrated!”
“Best if he’s a top-tier handsome guy, so he can draw all the attention and shield me!”
Following the most intense direction of the crowd’s gaze, he looked over.
Sure enough.
In the midst of the gathered beauties, a tall figure caught his eye.
That person had dazzling white hair, porcelain-cool skin, striking features, a sharp jawline, and wore a well-tailored male suit that highlighted a tall, ethereal bearing.
“This guy’s almost as handsome as me! Unbelievable!”
Lomio started plotting how to cut through the pack of hungry wolves and reach his “chosen shield.”
As if sensing his heated stare, the person suddenly turned, locking eyes with him.
“Oh? Are we on the same wavelength?”
Lomio was both surprised and delighted, quickly signing a common duchy hand gesture.
[Brother, got a moment later? Need a word.]
The other person clearly froze.
Then, she raised a hand and replied with a gesture Lomio only barely recognized from memory.
It was the sign language of the Northern Russell Empire.
“Wait for me.”
“Oh? An exchange student from the north—no wonder she’s so stunning…”
Lomio muttered internally, then suddenly felt something was off.
His gesture just now, if interpreted in the northern way… wasn’t that a combination for “miss,” “secret,” and “know”?
And the reply carried a touch of gunpowder?
Did the signals match up by accident?
Wait, that face…
The instant he saw her clearly, warning bells went off in Lomio’s heart.
Too familiar.
She was the limited-edition character he’d drawn before transmigrating—the white-haired, blue-eyed princess, Kalinina von August.
Lomio’s gaze swept over her broad, flat chest.
Yup, flat as a board.
The card art’s bursting bodice had become an airstrip here.
Safe! Absolutely safe!
She must be a real prince!
And with such a prompt hand-sign reply, she definitely understood him.
“Don’t scare yourself for nothing.”
Reassured, Lomio let out a quiet breath.
At that moment, a brand new icon he’d never seen before flashed in the bottom right of his vision.
It was semi-transparent, full of futuristic flair, like a growing skill tree.
A small line of text appeared next to the icon.
[Class Talent Tree System Beta v0.1 initializing…]
[Detected host class: Assassin (sewer-class)]
“Damn, even the system can roast me…”
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