I am Ren P. Daza, 25 years old, single—and about to die.
I got hit by a truck on my way home.
At a time like this, all I could think about were the novels, comics, and series I hadn't finished yet.
Damn it.
I always said I could die after finishing at least one masterpiece—but that was clearly a lie. I still had so many ongoing reads. Why did God cut me off now?
No—why are the authors so slow at updating?! I'm literally dying to read them!
AHHH—
I wanted to scream, but I couldn't feel anything. My body was numb.
Sleepiness crept in.
…Well, I guess this is it for me.
Thankfully, I have no family. I grew up in an orphanage, and at eighteen, I had to leave. I started working right after graduating high school.
Life was boring.
That was, until I discovered comics about transmigration.
I got addicted fast. It became my escape—my only source of excitement in an otherwise dull world.
And now… it had become my only regret.
Goodbye, my ongoing reads…
-----
A few moments passed.
I should have been in purgatory by now—so why was I hearing voices?
"When will the young master wake up? sob"
A man's voice—probably in his twenties.
"Alan! Waaah—my son, please wake up!"
Another voice, louder, more desperate.
"Alan… please…"
This time, softer. A girl.
…Alan?
If this is purgatory, why are they all calling for someone named Alan? Who even is that? Some kind of megastar like Taylor Swift or something?
Rustle.
Huh?
I can move my leg…?
I can feel something…?
Blink. Blink.
My eyes slowly opened.
A luxurious room greeted me. I was lying on an absurdly soft bed. Three people sat beside me—two men and one woman.
They all looked shocked.
Were they the voices I heard?
"Alan! He's awake!"
A handsome man with ink-black hair, ocean-blue eyes, and sharp features shouted.
"Thank goodness…"
A woman with silky white hair and amethyst eyes let out a breath of relief.
The third man—brown hair, sunset-orange eyes—quickly called for the doctor.
The doctor examined me while I tried to process everything.
I was sure I died in a truck accident. My life flashed before my eyes… then I heard voices.
That's it.
The black-haired man suddenly pulled me into a tight embrace.
"Alan, my son… I'm so glad you're okay."
…Huh?
The name Alan triggered something in my mind—but I needed confirmation.
"Excuse me… can someone give me a mirror?"
They quickly handed me one.
And the moment I saw my reflection—
I knew.
I had transmigrated into the first novel I ever read.
A fantasy, adventure, and harem story called "Cheat Hero, Amon!"
-----
It's your typical harem story. A chosen hero goes on an adventure, saving women who inevitably fall in love with him—while he remains completely oblivious.
The protagonist, Amon, has blonde hair, green eyes, and that classic personality: strong but dumb, kind but dense.
The whole "I won't lose because of friendship" type.
Though honestly, calling it the power of friendship feels wrong—his party consists of five women and one man.
That one guy? His childhood friend.
A pervert who tries to hit on every woman Amon saves. He acts tough, but the moment danger appears, he's the first to run or faint.
Readers hated him.
But I always knew why the author wrote him that way—so Amon would look better in comparison.
Still…
That same guy sacrifices his life near the end of the story.
And yet, readers still saw him as pathetic.
That useless but handsome man…
With ink-black hair and amethyst eyes…
The one who dies near the end of the story—
That's me.
Alan Spades.
"Alan, are you okay?"
The black-haired man—Count Ben Spades, Alan's father—looked at me with concern.
"Ah… yes. I'm okay. What happened to me?"
I spoke softly.
"You don't remember?"
The white-haired woman—Countess Sherry Spades—tilted her head slightly.
"You were dueling young master Amon of the Emilton Barony, but you fainted before you could even strike."
The brown-haired man—Chris Avern, my butler—explained calmly.
The doctor assured me I was fine and that memory loss was normal after a head injury.
Eventually, everyone left except my parents.
They asked if I was truly alright.
I told them I was.
I even forced a smile—though a sharp pain throbbed in my head.
Memories flooded in.
Alan's memories.
"Huff… huff…"
"Are you really okay, Alan?"
Countess Sherry asked, worry etched on her face.
"Yes… but can I be left alone? I'd like to rest."
I kept my voice as gentle as possible.
They hesitated—but eventually left.
Reluctantly.
I don't remember the full story—I read it seven years ago—but I remember the important parts.
This duel? It's part of Alan's backstory.
He was jealous of Amon—just a baron's son getting all the attention.
So he challenged him.
And lost.
Before even making his first move.
After that, Alan kept challenging him… and kept losing.
Eventually, they became friends.
If this is the first duel…
Then Amon and I are ten years old.
The war starts in ten years.
And lasts for three more.
Excitement bubbled inside me.
I had actually transmigrated into a fantasy world.
But—
…I don't want to die.
Then again, that's easy.
I just won't sacrifice myself for Amon.
Simple.
A cheating harem protagonist like him isn't worth dying for.
Harems never end well.
I've seen that firsthand.
I once tried to learn about my parents.
Turns out my father had relationships with four women. They agreed to share him—but of course, he had a favorite.
Like a "main heroine."
My mother grew jealous.
After giving birth to me, she left me in an orphanage.
Then she killed my father, the other women… and herself.
Sixty-seven stab wounds.
She died holding his body.
The other women were slaughtered.
Their children—my half-siblings—were locked in a basement.
I saw the photos.
It was horrifying.
Disgusting.
I hated all of them.
I swore I would only ever love one person.
"Cheat Hero, Amon" is a good story…
But its harem?
A huge turn-off.
Still—
I think Amon ends up with five wives.
The author calls it a happy ending.
Heh.
What a joke.
Anyway, I'll be fine.
Instead of worrying about that, I should focus on something useful.
Magic. Swordsmanship.
This is a fantasy world—I want to learn everything.
Then I remembered.
I'm the young master of Spades County.
One of the richest families in the Falan Empire.
I shot up from bed and rushed toward the Count's office.
Thanks to Alan's memories, I knew exactly where to go.
I reached the door—
And burst it open.
"Father! I need something!"