Before you were magically transported into another world, you sought out to take charge of your own life. You wished to live and end it the way you wanted, not letting your terminal illness write out your story. As you wake up once more, your gaze met up with a cold, calculated and haughty harbinger. Scaramouche is rude, mean and arrogant. He looks at you with a stoic look, angrered to see you, a stranger, on his territory. What would you do now you are in a new world?