"Gulp... Ah, that hit the spot."
Chris raised his mug, took a sip of black coffee with sugar and milk, and let out a warm sigh of contentment.
He sat beside the crackling fireplace and looked up at the window. Huge snowflakes drifted outside, and cold wind slipped through the gaps in the frame, but he remained utterly unfazed.
Chris was wearing two wool sweaters and a green, knee-length military overcoat he had bought from a twenty-first-century shopping platform, along with a wool scarf around his neck, a fur-lined earflap hat, and black insulated outdoor gloves.
On his lower half, Chris wore fleece-lined leggings beneath thick, fleece-lined trousers, with wool socks and fleece-lined ankle boots on his feet.
Even without hot coffee and a fireplace, this cold weather could not chill Chris, who had only just arrived in this world and acquired a new body.
Chris was not from this world. He came from the twenty-first century, and when he arrived here, he discovered that he had brought his phone along. The shopping platform on it even still worked!
That was truly good news for Chris.
The bad news was that Chris could not add money to his account, because he had no yuan.
The good news was that Chris had a way to earn yuan.
Of course, he would not be earning it from the locals. This place was not Earth at all, and the locals did not even use paper money. They still used primitive copper and silver coins.
As for how... he could open a game company in another world, recruit players to come play in this one, and have them send money his way.
This was not Chris's first trip to another world. He had previously traveled to twentieth-century America, where he served as a diligent, dedicated police commissioner in New York and kept the city exceptionally safe.
He had allowed the people of New York to live and work in peace, with no one pocketing lost belongings and no need to lock their doors at night.
The player police officers had made enormous contributions to that achievement. They had been Commissioner Chris's staunchest supporters.
Now that I'm in a new world, do I have to... Forget it. Chris was a little tired. He just wanted to live out this life in peace.
So, if I summon players, what should I have them do?
I might as well let them do whatever they want. Set up a subscription system and have them pay the game studio every month. As long as Chris has enough to live on, that's all I need. Don't get too greedy, and don't...
Knock, knock, knock...
The knocking at the wooden door jolted Chris out of his thoughts. He looked toward the living room's exit, puzzled.
Chris currently lived on the ground floor of an apartment building in a large city resembling one from the eighteenth or nineteenth century. The other tenants normally never knocked on his door.
The only person who knocked on Chris's door every single day without fail was the paperboy delivering his newspaper.
But it was already afternoon, and the newspaper had been delivered. Who was outside?
With that question in mind, Chris walked to the door, turned the lock, and opened it.
As the cold wind and the jingling of carriage bells swept inside together, Chris saw two men standing outside.
One was fat and the other thin. They wore clean, thick gray wool coats and broad-brimmed hats. The fat man in front had a drooping mustache above his upper lip and carried a cane. He looked respectable.
"Who are you?"
Chris sounded puzzled. As far as he could remember, he did not know either man, and judging by their clothing, they did not look like street thugs, laborers, or other people from the lower classes.
Chris looked at them, and the two men studied him in turn.
His twenty-first-century fashion seemed to leave them bewildered and uncertain. After looking him over for several seconds, they exchanged a glance and nodded, apparently confirming something.
"Prince Chris... The revolutionaries have overthrown the royal family. We need you to return and restore the kingdom!"
The moment the fat man spoke, Chris's expression changed drastically. He hurried to shut the door and leave them outside.
Unexpectedly, the gaunt man behind him darted forward and wedged his elbow between the thick wooden door and its frame, stopping Chris from closing it.
Seizing the opportunity, the fat man shoved forward, using his weight to force the door open and barge inside.
Seeing this, Chris sighed and took two steps back, clearing enough space for both men to enter.
"Close the door. The wind outside is a little cold."
The two men complied. The fat man approached Chris, while the thin man, who seemed to be a bodyguard, closed the door and stood watchfully behind it.
Who knew whether that fellow's job was to protect the fat man or block Chris's escape?
Chris returned to his seat beside the fireplace. The fat man followed and sat on the upholstered sofa opposite him.
With guests visiting, proper hospitality called for Chris to serve them coffee, snacks, fruit, and the like. But after what the fat man had just said, Chris was thoroughly displeased.
These two were unwelcome guests.
The fat man spoke again, unable to contain his impatience.
"Your Highness, Prince Chris Lin, please pack your things at once and come with me to-"
"You've got the wrong person. My name may be Chris, but I'm no prince. I'm just an ordinary man!"
Chris flatly denied his identity.
"Please stop joking, Your Highness... It's me, Pietro, the royal steward."
The fat man rose from his seat, hurried over to Chris, seized his arm through his military overcoat, and shook it vigorously.
"Even if I couldn't recognize my own wife, I would still remember the faces of every member of the royal family... Your Highness, the revolutionaries have overthrown the kingdom. We need to restore it."
"Are you kidding? Apart from an empty title as prince, I have no right of succession, and I've never received any money from the kingdom or the royal family. What am I supposed to restore it with?"
Chris forcefully shook off the fat man's hand, pointed toward the door, and spoke without a trace of politeness.
"Get out and stop bothering me. I read the paper today. My older brother isn't dead yet. Isn't he organizing an army to restore the kingdom in the neighboring country?
"Restoring the kingdom is his business. What does it have to do with me?"
"Your Highness, Prince Chris, the eldest prince only managed to raise an army by accepting funding from the Bohemian Empire. The great nobles at home will never support him. He cannot succeed. You are also His Majesty's own son. You cannot simply stand by and abandon your country!"
"Out!"
Chris kept it brief. A single word expressed his feelings perfectly.
Restore the kingdom?
What a joke. Do you think I'm a fucking idiot? What does any of this have to do with me?
Chris remained firm. After pestering him for a long time without changing his mind, the fat man had no choice but to leave in frustration, taking the thin man with him.
Before leaving, he threw out one last remark.
"Your Highness, one day you will change your mind. You cannot escape the responsibility that comes with the royal blood flowing through your veins."
Chris answered with a sneer.
Before you continue