I lived and lived, didn’t bother anyone: I liked girls, I lied often, and I used my charm more than once. I played cards and held one of the posts on the lower level of an endless labor hierarchy. Not a paragon of decency, but a perfectly decent guy.
And then a pretty woman comes up to me and claims that I’m the heir to the throne in some other world. Fine, if it were some normal throne—not a symbol of evil forces. And I’m supposed to sit on it as the best candidate to become a spawn of hell. No, of course I’m not a paragon of decency, but… something like this…