A sixteen-year-old girl lived alone in a small apartment tucked away in the corner of a bustling city. With shimmering black hair cascading down her back, radiant star-like eyes, and soft pink skin that seemed to glow under any light, she was the kind of beauty that could turn heads on any street. Her face was gentle, her figure delicate, and her every movement carried a kind of quiet elegance. But beneath that angelic appearance was a hardcore fantasy gamer—one who had practically sold her soul to the server.
Her name was Airi—not her real name, but the alias she used online. Her real name didn't matter anymore. No one called her by it. No one asked. Even she had slowly forgotten how it sounded when spoken with warmth. For others, sixteen was a time of school, friends, youthful romance, and family. For Airi, it was sleepless nights in pixelated worlds full of magic, monsters, and power. In those worlds, she could be anyone: a dark flame sorceress, a wandering swordmaster with icy eyes, or even a dark queen ruling with a cold smile and an iron will.
She had no parents. They had disappeared when she was still a child, leaving behind nothing but a small allowance that barely kept her alive. From the age of thirteen, she worked part-time jobs to survive—at cafés, washing dishes, taking graveyard shifts at a call center. Reality was cruel and gray, but in fantasy? She could breathe. She could live. There, she was not weak, not invisible, not abandoned. There, she was powerful, beautiful, respected—known by thousands as the "Queen of Shadow."
That's why, on that fateful day, she pushed her body past its limits to grind an in-game event that only came around once every five years. The "Crown of Shadows"—a legendary item of immeasurable power. Airi had prepared for a month, farming materials, upgrading skills, building the perfect team. She gave up everything—sleep, food, health—just to stay locked to her screen, eyes bloodshot, fingers trembling, refusing to stop.
Three days.
Only instant noodles and canned coffee.
Her eyes were sunken, skin pale, limbs numb. But when she finally obtained the crown, when the system broadcast her name across the entire server, Airi laughed—a weak, breathless laugh filled with pride and relief. She did it. She—an orphan, a loner, a nobody in real life—had become a queen in the world she loved.
And then… the screen blurred. Her heart skipped. Cold sweat soaked her forehead. She reached for her water bottle, but her hand dropped limply. Her vision tilted.
A dull "thud" echoed in the silent room.
Airi collapsed onto her keyboard, her smile still frozen on her lips, eyes wide open but lifeless.
No one knew. No one came. No one mourned.
In a city of millions, a girl quietly passed away—just as quietly as she had lived.
But death was not the end.
For Airi, it was only the beginning of a legend.
In that final moment, as her consciousness faded like static from a dying radio, a strange voice echoed in her mind. Neither male nor female. Cold as winter wind, yet filled with an overwhelming power:
"What do you desire to become in your next world?"
In her fading breath, almost instinctively, she whispered:
"…I want to become the Shadow Queen."
And the world vanished in a thick swirl of black smoke.
From the unremarkable death of a lone gamer… a shadow empire would rise.