Zero’s Reign: Reincarnated with a Gacha Clone System

Zero groaned as he slowly woke up, the morning light seeping through the window. His body felt heavy, and his mind still lingered in that blissful half-asleep state where reality and dreams blurred together.

Then he noticed something—

Soma was also waking up beside him. Still drowsy, Zero rubbed his face. "Why do you, as a clone, need to sleep?" Soma yawned, stretching his arms. "I'm still a being, y'know. I need all the basic necessities. Sleep included."

Zero let out a tired chuckle. "Man, you really are just a second me." Soma smirked. "I mean, technically, I'm the improved version." Zero flicked him on the forehead.

Soma laughed, then suddenly sat up with a teasing grin. "So… is it too much if we shower together?"

Zero squinted at him. "That's gay."

Soma gasped in mock offense. "Wow, we're going back to the 1950s? So you're homophobic now?"

Zero grabbed his pillow and threw it at Soma's face.

"SHUT UP!" he shouted as he stomped toward the bathroom. "Go make breakfast, dammit!"

Soma just laughed.

By the time Zero finished his bath and came downstairs, the smell of food had already filled the café.

Soma stood behind the counter, setting down a steaming bowl on the wooden surface.

"Here. Porridge with quail eggs."

Zero sat down and took the bowl, inhaling the warm, comforting aroma. "Thanks."

Soma leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. "Gonna go take a bath now. Try not to miss me too much."

Zero, mid-bite, simply flipped him off.

Soma laughed and headed upstairs.

By the time Soma returned, Zero had already started setting up the café for the day. The moment the doors opened, the morning rush began. Customers trickled in, the warm scent of breakfast drawing people toward the café. Some took one look at Zero's horns and walked right out.

But—

Some stayed.

And that was all that mattered. Zero and Soma worked seamlessly, taking orders, serving food, and keeping the café running smoothly. A group of curious customers sat down at one of the tables, scanning the café interior.

One of them, a well-dressed man with a neatly trimmed mustache, raised an eyebrow. "So, what's on the menu?"

Soma, carrying a tray of food to another table, grinned. "We do things differently here. Instead of a fixed menu, we have a daily rotating selection. Every day, it's something new."

The man frowned slightly. "So what's today's breakfast?"

Soma set the last plate down before placing his hands on his hips. "Today's special? Porridge with quail eggs. Simple. Warm. Perfect way to start the morning."

The man exchanged glances with his companions before nodding.

"Alright. We'll take three."

Zero, from behind the counter, smirked as he started preparing the coffee.

It might take time, but step by step—

They were winning people over.

As the morning rush trickled down and the café grew quiet, Zero leaned against the counter, exhaling. "Alright, Chef, what's the plan for lunch?"

Soma, wiping his hands on a towel, grinned. "I'm thinking eel."

Zero raised an eyebrow. "Eel?"

Soma nodded. "It's light, goes great with coffee, and isn't too filling, so people will be more likely to order extra portions."

Zero smirked. "Smart."

As noon reached its peak, customers started rolling in again.

Lunch breaks were in full swing, and after seeing the morning crowd, more people were curious about the café.

Some returning customers, who missed breakfast, walked up to the counter. "Hey, can I get a bowl of that porridge from earlier?"

Soma shook his head. "That was the breakfast special. We're onto lunch now."

One of the men groaned. "Come on, man, there's no law saying we can't have breakfast for lunch!"

Soma grinned, tapping the counter. "Maybe not, but if I'm the one cooking, then yeah—there is a rule."

The group laughed, and even Zero got involved in some of the conversations. There were awkward moments, as some customers were clearly hesitant around him, but he didn't mind.

It wasn't their fault.

They had been taught to be prejudiced against demons.

But little by little, he was changing that.

As afternoon came, Zero and Soma thought they might finally get a small break.

They were wrong.

More people kept arriving.

Workers finishing their shifts, travelers stopping in for a meal, and curious first-timers looking for a taste of something new.

Zero exchanged a glance with Soma, and they both knew—

They were exhausted.

By the time the sun dipped lower, they made a decision.

Zero locked the café doors before dusk, just as a group of customers approached. One of them frowned. "Hey, isn't a café supposed to stay open at night?"

Zero offered a polite smile. "It's our first week. We're still adjusting. Come back tomorrow, alright?"

The man huffed but nodded, walking off with the others.

Zero and Soma slumped into their seats, letting out a deep, exhausted sigh.

Then—

They laughed.

It was tiring, but at the same time, it was rewarding.

Soma, still catching his breath, grinned. "Alright, check the Gacha points."

Zero smirked. "Let's see." He walked over to the cash register and opened it.

A small notification appeared:

Gacha Points Earned: +540

Zero whistled. "Not bad."

Soma leaned against the counter, thinking. "So we sold our meals for around 4-5 silver and your coffee for 1-2 silver… that means we served around 80 people."

Zero groaned. "It felt like way more than that."

Soma stretched. "It's kind of our fault."

Zero raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Soma crossed his arms. "We need to rework our operating hours."

Zero leaned back against the counter, considering it. "Morning hours should stay. It's what brings in the first wave of customers."

Soma nodded. "Then we'd have to sacrifice lunch."

Zero's expression immediately soured. "Absolutely not."

Soma tilted his head. "Look, we just worked an entire day without a real meal. We're serving food without eating it ourselves."

Zero sighed. "Fine. Let's talk it over during dinner."

Soma smirked. "That's the smartest thing you've said all day."

Zero rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

As they prepared their meal, they went back and forth, discussing the best way to manage their schedule.

After some lighthearted banter, they finally settled on a plan:

Morning Hours: Open early for breakfast (a key selling point).

Afternoon Break: Close for lunch, so they could actually rest.

Evening Hours: Reopen for dinner and late-night customers.

With a new plan in place, they clinked their glasses together.

Tomorrow, they would run the café on their own terms.

…

The morning sun barely crested the rooftops of Pinecrest City when the doors of the police precinct swung open. Officers in dark navy uniforms filed into the main assembly hall, their boots thudding against the wooden floor as they lined up in formation.

At the front of the room, a tall elven woman stood with her hands behind her back, her piercing emerald eyes scanning the gathered officers. 

She was Captain Elara Vaelith, the newly appointed precinct commander—and the first woman to ever hold the position in Pinecrest. The tension in the room was palpable. She could feel the unspoken resentment, the silent disapproval.

Then—

A single clap echoed through the hall. It was followed by another. And another. A slow, begrudging round of applause rippled through the assembled officers. Their expressions were neutral at best, and disdainful at worst.

Elara didn't react. She simply waited, her gaze cold and unflinching, until the last forced clap died down.

Then, she smiled.

And dropped the act.

"Let's not waste time." Elara's voice rang through the hall—sharp, clear, and commanding. She took a step forward, her boots clicking against the floor. "I know exactly what kind of precinct this is," she said.

The air shifted.

Some officers stiffened. Others glanced at each other, expressions wary. Elara's smile widened—but there was no warmth in it. "I know how corrupt the kingdom's police are."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

"I know how corrupt you are."

Before anyone could react, the side doors burst open. Armed officers stormed in, grabbing several men from the ranks. The corrupt officers barely had time to struggle before they were restrained.

The hall exploded into whispers. Elara ignored the murmurs, continuing as if nothing had happened.

"For those of you wondering why you're still standing here," she said, "it's because you haven't been caught—yet." She turned on her heel, pacing down the row of officers.

"The kingdom is scared. The Federation is growing. A nation without a king, ruled by a president—it strikes a nerve, doesn't it?" She scoffed. "Your king doesn't want to lose his power."

She stopped, turning back to face them. "So here we are—playing cops." A few officers shifted uncomfortably, their expressions unreadable. "But let me make something clear." Elara's emerald gaze hardened.

"With me as your captain, we will not 'play cop' anymore." She let the words sink in. "We will serve and protect the citizens equally—human, elf, dwarf, beastkin, demon, it doesn't matter." Her gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge her.

"There will be no more bribes." A few officers swallowed hard.

"No more power plays." More uncomfortable shifting.

"No more games." She gestured to the detained officers.

"For those of you being taken in, don't worry." She gave them a pointed look. "You'll have your trial—with our magic lie detector." Some officers visibly paled.

"If you pass, you're free to go." Her expression darkened.

"If not… then even if the Demon God himself reincarnates, he won't be able to save you." A heavy silence followed.

Then—

She clasped her hands behind her back and said,

"Dismissed."

As the officers in the main hall began to disperse, Captain Elara Vaelith remained standing, her arms crossed. Her sharp emerald eyes flicked toward two specific officers.

"Officer Wolfe. Officer Monet." The two immediately stiffened, standing at attention. "Follow me." Without another word, Elara turned and strode toward her office. 

Wolfe and Monet exchanged a glance before silently falling in line behind her.

The moment the door to her office closed, Elara turned and leaned against her desk, arms folded. She fixed her gaze on Wolfe, the more senior of the two.

"Is she your rookie?" Elara asked, tilting her head toward Monet.

Wolfe nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Elara's gaze shifted to Monet for a second, then back to Wolfe. "Does your rookie know about your identity?"

Wolfe hesitated. Monet, standing beside him, glanced at him curiously—clearly confused. After a beat, Wolfe finally answered. "No, ma'am."

Elara let out a slow, deliberate sigh, then stepped forward. Her cold stare locked onto him. "Then what does the bastard of the king want in my department?"

Monet's eyes widened slightly, but she held her tongue, knowing this wasn't her place to speak. Wolfe stood firm. "To serve and protect the people, ma'am."

Elara narrowed her eyes, stepping closer, her voice lowering. "Don't give me your bullshit."

Wolfe remained still, but his jaw tightened. Elara's gaze was unrelenting. "Your boots might believe you—but not me." A heavy silence followed.

Then—

Wolfe exhaled, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. "To prove myself… for my independence." 

Elara's expression shifted into a small, knowing smile. "That's more like it." She stepped back, giving him space.

"But you should know," she added, "I will be monitoring you like a griffin."

Wolfe nodded. "Understood, ma'am."

Elara tilted her head, smirking. "Are you mad that I'm the commander of this precinct?"

Wolfe didn't hesitate. "No, ma'am. I think you're exactly what we need."

Elara let out a short chuckle. "Don't flatter me, Wolfe. Just do your damn job."

She turned to Monet. "And you—keep your eyes sharp. You're not in some noble's playpen anymore."

Monet straightened. "Yes, ma'am."

Elara nodded. "Dismissed."

With that, the two officers saluted and exited the office, leaving Elara standing there, smirking to herself.

She had a long road ahead of her.

But if Wolfe was serious about proving himself—then he would have to do it under her command.

And she would make sure he earned it.