Inside, Ken felt a spark of real anger. He could end this right now. He could snap his fingers and teleport Finlay to the middle of the ocean. He could rewrite the Grandmaster’s memory. He could destroy the entire street if he wanted to.

  But he couldn't do that. Not here. Not in front of his parents.

  If he used his power now, his secret would be out. The Empire wouldn't just want him as a servant; they would hunt him down as a monster. His peaceful life would be destroyed forever. And his parents would never look at him the same way again. They would be afraid of their own son.

  Ken took a deep breath. He had to swallow his pride. He had to keep playing the role of the weak, hapless victim.

  "So," Ken said, his voice quiet. "If I say no, my dad goes to jail?"

  "It is a possibility," Finlay said, his face returning to a neutral expression. "The law is strict during wartime."

  Ken looked at the floor. He looked at his worn-out slippers. He sighed—a long, loud, dramatic sigh that seemed to last for a whole minute.

  "Man," Ken grumbled, rubbing his neck. "This is such a drag. Talk about being bullied."

  He looked up at Finlay and gave a weak, lopsided smile.

  "Fine. You win, big guy. I’ll go."

  Khadija burst into tears. "Ken! No! You can't!"

  "It's okay, Mom," Ken said, walking over to her. He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "It’s better than going to jail, right? Besides, maybe it won't be that bad. Maybe they have good food at the palace."

  "But the monsters!" Khadija cried, hugging him tight.

  "I’ll just run away," Ken joked, though nobody laughed. "I’m really fast at running away. I’ll hide behind the strong people. I’ll be the best professional coward you’ve ever seen."

  He looked at Finlay over his mother’s shoulder. "I need ten minutes to pack."

  Finlay nodded. "Ten minutes. The car is waiting outside."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  ________________________________________

  ----

  Ken walked into his small bedroom and closed the door. The room was messy, just the way he liked it. Clothes were piled on a chair, comic books were scattered on the floor, and his computer screen was blinking in sleep mode.

  He stood there for a moment, looking at his sanctuary. This was his safe space. This was where he could just be Ken, the lazy guy who liked snacks and anime.

  "Goodbye, sweet paradise," Ken whispered to his bed. "I will miss you the most."

  He grabbed a battered old duffel bag from the closet. He didn't need much. He threw in a few pairs of underwear, his toothbrush, and his favorite oversized hoodie. Then, he went to his bookshelf.

  "Essentials only," he muttered.

  He packed three volumes of his favorite manga, a handheld gaming console, and a bag of potato chips he had been saving for a special occasion. To anyone else, it looked like he was packing for a sleepover, not a war.

  He paused when he saw a small photo frame on his desk. It was a picture of him, Jasmin, Mom, and Dad at a picnic two years ago. They were all laughing. Ken looked happy and normal.

  He picked up the photo and stared at it. His eyes shifted. For a brief moment, the sleepy, lazy look disappeared. A cold, sharp intelligence flickered in his dark pupils.

  “Succession War,” he thought, his internal voice sounding nothing like the goofy boy downstairs. “Twenty-one Royals fighting for the throne. And I’m stuck with the 13th Princess, the underdog. The weakest one.”

  He tossed the photo into the bag and zipped it up.

  “This is going to be annoying. I’ll have to protect her, but I have to make it look like an accident. I have to defeat monsters without anyone seeing me do it. I have to survive assassination attempts while pretending to be scared.”

  He threw the bag over his shoulder and slumped his posture again. He practiced his goofy smile in the mirror.

  "Okay, Ken," he told his reflection. "Time to go be the best background character in history."

  When he walked back downstairs, the atmosphere was like a funeral. His mother was sitting on the sofa, weeping into a handkerchief. His father was standing by the door, looking ten years older than he had an hour ago. Jasmin was holding Ken’s coat, looking pale.

  "Here," Jasmin said, handing him the coat. Her voice was small. "Don't... don't do anything stupid, okay? Don't try to be a hero."

  Ken took the coat and ruffled her hair. "Hey, who do you think I am? I’m the king of avoiding work. I’ll stay in the back and carry the water bottles."

  "It's not funny, Ken," she sniffled.

  "I know," Ken said softly. "Look, take care of Mom and Dad. Study for your exams. I’ll send money when I get paid. I heard the Royal salary is pretty good."

  He turned to his parents. Brandon stepped forward and hugged Ken. It was a stiff, awkward hug, but Ken could feel his father shaking.

  "I'm sorry, son," Brandon whispered. "I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to stop them."

  "It's not your fault, Dad," Ken said. "Really. It’s just... bad luck. Or destiny. Or whatever."

  Finlay cleared his throat from the hallway. "We must depart. The schedule is tight."

  "Coming, coming," Ken said. He pulled away from his father. "Okay. I'm going. Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it. I'll probably get fired in a week for sleeping on the job."

  He gave them one last wave and walked out the door. He didn't look back. If he looked back, he might actually feel sad, and that was too much energy.

  Outside, the night air was cool. A sleek, black luxury car was hovering silently just inches above the pavement. It looked like a spaceship compared to the rusty sedans parked on the rest of the street. The neighbors were peeking out of their windows, whispering and pointing.

  "Get in," Finlay said, opening the back door.

  Ken threw his duffel bag onto the leather seat and climbed in. The interior smelled of expensive cologne and new leather. It was softer than his bed.

  “Okay, maybe this part isn't so bad,” Ken admitted to himself as he sank into the seat.

  Finlay got into the front passenger seat. A driver in a black uniform sat behind the wheel. The car hummed to life, the magical engine purring softly.

  As the car began to move, gliding smoothly down the street, Ken looked out the tinted window. He watched his house get smaller and smaller. He saw the porch light where his family was standing, watching him leave.

  He saw the convenience store where he bought his instant noodles. He saw the park where he used to nap on the bench. He saw the bus stop where he waited every morning to go to his boring, low-paying job.

  All of those boring, mundane things suddenly seemed very precious.