Truth counts for nothing in the face of destiny, Corco thought as his shivering fingers dropped the flakes of poison into the cup, creating a ripple in the wine.

His preparations completed, he picked up the cup and moved it to his lips. Halfway there he stopped again, as he realized his folly. He couldn't know how effective the dried Palegrass would be. Maybe its essence would need time to spread throughout the wine first, maybe his haste would only cause him hours of suffering, rather than the quick release he seeked. After all, he had no prior experience when it came to suicide. If it was up to him, he would prefer to avoid the knife, his last resort.

Thus, Corco put the cup back down and got up from the inn's shabby bed. Even though he didn’t feel stiff, Corco stretched out his back with a long sigh. Perhaps his spine ached from the slog which had been his life. On the wobbly nightstand still sat the last cup of wine he would ever drink. A table and a bed, that was all he had been given in the small room he rented for the night. On top of the table, he found a candle next to the wine, to scare the night away and, behind them, the letter he had left behind. He fought the tremble in his fingers as he picked up the paper and checked his final message to his friends once again, just to make sure.

To whoever finds this,

I am sorry, for I have taken the easy way out.

I was born with more than most, yet the World chose to take everything from me.

My mother taken by the northern lords of Medala.

My land taken by my brothers.

My future taken by the gods of Arcavia.

My last home taken by the Duke of Balit.

I tried to provide for those under my wing, but failed. Against the course of my life, the World has formed a stream of injustice and I do not have the means to fight it any longer. If any of you make it back home, tell father that I understand. That sometimes, best intentions are not enough and that sometimes, there is no choice in life.

I believe that I have been cursed. So long as you stay in my company, nothing good will come to you. Only ruin will follow.

Which is why I will leave you here. Thank you for staying to the end. I did not deserve friends as true as you.

In deep deference, with gratitude,

Corcopaca Titu Primu Pluritac, heir to the silver crown and lord of the Argu

Laqhis.

Corco put the letter back down and thought back to his last few tumultuous years. His father had sent him here, to this strange continent, to be the connection between their kingdoms and the Medala Empire. Had it worked, it would have made Corco indispensable to the empire's officials.

Things didn't go as planned. Once he had crossed the sea, no one would acknowledge his identity. At that point the crown prince of Medala was certain: He had been sent into exile by his own family. However, after two years of work, he had replaced his old family with a new one. Still, even this joy wouldn't last. After his master's death, his new home had been taken just like his old one, by those with power and status.

It had been two years since his arrival on these shores. Just two years to have everything taken from him. He felt responsible to the ones who had remained by his side. Even more so, he felt responsible to his master's heir. Yet more than ever, he was impotent in the face of the powerful, unable to master his fate. At this point, they were only left with a few coins and a few bottles of the old Fastgrade's favorite wine.

Right, the wine!

Corco picked the poisoned cup back up again. This time there were no more excuses. This time he was sure the wine would do its work.

“Well then, good night,” he muttered as he brought the goblet to his lips.

Corco wondered if the wine would force him to relive his past. He had heard the stories: Life's reflection. Some said that just before death, they would see their whole life flash before their eyes. As he looked out of the open window and into the dark night, he just hoped it wouldn't take too long. Suddenly, the window changed its form. While it squashed down into smaller and smaller size, the black turned to white as the opening became brighter and brighter, a glowing beacon in the night. Fascinated, he stared into the strange window, to read the letters displayed there. Wait, window? This was his PC-monitor, of course.

As if pulled by strings, he looked around and took inventory of what had been his life for the past few years. The chaotic mess of an apartment all around him, the empty bottles and pizza boxes as well as the pile of worn clothes spoke of his desolation. Over time, the flickering window in his front had become his only friend. Thus, he stared back at the chat log, in a vain search for comfort.

[u on dude]

[Yeah, still here.]

[so what you doin]

[You know how in the time travelly, tech vs magic kingdom building stories the MC always knows way too much about chemistry and shit?]

[yeah ]

[im more intop xianxia]

[So I've been compiling a list of various technologies, policies etc. you could use to turn an old society into a modern one and kinda going through wiki and shit for each one.]

[lol]

[Think about it: Back before the enlightenment, the world was divided up neatly. The highborn got everything and the lowborn got nothing. The entire system was built for their benefit. Then we had a bunch of neat revolutions over freedom and such, but did anything really change? Who led those uprisings? Who paid for them? In the 18th century or so, the wealthy divided the world up again. And this time, they built a system for their benefit instead. Just imagine. What kind of paradise could be created if we could go back, with everything we know today, and do things right this time.]

[you got way too much time duide]

[If I didn't, I wouldn't be here on a weekday at 3 AM.]

[nice that ur here.

make me feel good about myself lol]

[So I read an article recently about receding social mobility. I know that the whole communist thing was kinda bullshit, but maybe Marx was on to something about the distribution of wealth stuff.]

[?]

[At least he is no more of a sci-fi novelist bullshitter than Friedman.]

[lol wat u talkin about]

[...gotta go. bye]

Exhausted from the one-sided discussion, he turned to look back into his room. At this point, the mess didn't matter anymore. This place, together with everything else, would soon be taken anyways. All of his possessions, stolen by his own family, just because his uncle knew a few important people. There wasn't much he could do, but he wouldn't bow down to those in power. To reach his goals, he would simply have to give up more than most. He could never change the world at large, but at least this one time, he would beat the system. He looked over at the papers from the bank, at the massive loan he had taken out, before his gaze turned down to the bottle of pills in his hand.

"One after every meal, huh? I guess taking them before isn't so bad if I take 30 all at once.

“Hope you'll like my will, uncle. The company and the debt, or neither. Your move, asshole. ”

Now he was ready for his grand exit, the pills in one hand and a bottle of brandy in the other. Right after he had thrown the pills into his open mouth, he put the brandy to his lips. Gotta wash it down with something.

Well then, good night.

At last, Corco awoke from the memories which had not been his. The prince didn't know how long he had sat there, but his lips were still stuck on the deadly cup.

"Fuck!” With a curse, he threw the object of his terror into the corner of the room. Palegrass? What had he almost swallowed just now? 'Spread the essence throughout the wine'? What the fuck did that even mean? As he tried to organize the mess in his head, two lives turned into one. While a dull thump spread confusion in his temple, he looked down on the puddle of poison wine crawl along the wooden floor boards. Long after the wine had dried and the sun had come up, he stood back up from his bed. At last, he was no longer lost. At last, he had the tools to oppose destiny itself.