The first rule of the LitRPG tournament was
clear: no magic without a contract. Lila Hart
had signed hers with ink that bled silver,
binding her to the game’s twisted logic. She’d
chosen the path of the rogue player, but the
system had other ideas.
Her avatar appeared as a scrawny student,
flanked by a towering figure in a tailored
waistcoat and a wolf’s snarl hidden behind a
polite smile. The system assigned him as her
mentor—Sir Alaric Vane, a billionaire with a
pack of werewolves under his thumb and a curse
that turned him human every full moon.
The second rule: players could only progress by
completing tasks. Lila’s first mission? A fake
dating simulation. The system demanded she
pretend to be in love with Alaric for thirty
days, or she’d lose all her stats and be tossed
back into the real world with nothing but her
memories.
She found him in the village of Ashcombe, a
place where time seemed to bend. The buildings
were halfRegency, halfmodern, like the town
itself had been caught between centuries. It was
the setting of the game’s alternate world—a
place where werewolves ruled the shadows and
humans played at being noble.
Alaric greeted her with a bow and a smirk. “Miss
Hart, I trust you’ve come to play along?” His
eyes flickered with something feral, but his
voice remained smooth.
Lila said nothing. She had no intention of
playing along. But the game had a third rule:
disobedience meant instant death.
She agreed.
The town watched them walk handinhand through
the cobbled streets, whispering about the
strange girl and the man who wore his beast like
a suit. Lila kept her head down, but Alaric was
always watching. He taught her how to fight with
claws, how to read the shifting alliances of the
pack, how to hide from the hunters who stalked
the edges of the town.
Then came the full moon.
Alaric’s curse took hold, and he collapsed into
a man again—pale, trembling, and very much human.
Lila found him in the old library, surrounded by
books on ancient bloodlines and forbidden
rituals.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, voice
hoarse. “You could leave me.”
She didn’t answer. The game had forced her into
this role, but something else had begun to take
root. She wasn’t just pretending anymore.
The fourth rule of the game: relationships could
be real. If she truly fell for Alaric, the bond
would transfer into the real world. She wouldn’t
be tossed out—she’d be stuck here, in this
cursed town, forever.
But the fifth rule was even crueler: if she
broke the contract, she’d die.
On the thirtieth day, the town held its annual
masquerade ball. Lila stood beside Alaric, the
crowd watching as they danced. Her heart pounded—
not from the game, but from something deeper.
Then the system glitched.
The lights dimmed. The music stopped. The faces
in the crowd blurred into pixels.
A final message flashed on the screen:
“Relationship confirmed. Bond sealed. Welcome to
the real world.”
Lila blinked. The ballroom was gone. In its
place was the same library, the same man, the
same moonlight spilling through the windows.
Alaric looked up, his eyes no longer hiding
anything. “You stayed,” he said.
She nodded.
The game was over. The town was real. And for
the first time in years, Alaric felt something
besides the cold bite of his curse.
He smiled. “Then let’s start over.”
