"…!!!"
He froze before the towering mirror.
"…What the hell happened to me?"
His fingers instinctively tightened around the marble edges of the vanity.
The flickering candlelight painted uneven shadows across the face staring back at him—a face completely unfamiliar, yet disturbingly real.
Round.
Soft.
Far softer than the one he remembered.
His cheeks still carried traces of childish fat, giving him an oddly harmless appearance despite the expensive royal clothing draped over his body. Combined with his naturally pale complexion, he looked less like royalty and more like some pampered noble child raised without hardship.
"Is this… really me?"
His voice came out hollow.
"How did I become like this?"
"What the hell is going on…?"
He leaned closer toward the mirror, studying every detail carefully.
The strange sensation from earlier returned again.
These features weren't his.
And yet—
Somehow, they felt familiar.
His thick beige hair fell messily across his forehead in untamed waves, refusing to settle no matter how disheveled it looked. Beneath it rested a pair of pale blue eyes clouded with confusion and disbelief.
His hand slowly moved toward his stomach again, feeling the softness beneath the silk tunic wrapped around his body.
"…This face…"
Lost in thought, he touched his cheek lightly as fragmented memories surfaced once more inside his mind.
Blurred scenes.
Voices.
Names.
"…It feels familiar."
Then suddenly—
"!!!"
His eyes widened violently.
The moment realization struck him, a chill ran down his spine.
"This…!"
He stumbled back a step while staring at his reflection in horror.
Darian Ashthorne.
The name surfaced clearly inside his head.
A useless and incompetent prince from The Forsaken Crown—a novel he had read years ago during his teenage days.
A forgettable side character.
No—
Even calling him a side character was generous.
Darian Ashthorne was little more than an irrelevant existence destined to disappear early in the story like any other disposable noble.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
His expression stiffened.
Out of every possible person in that world…
Why him?
Why a character whose future amounted to nothing?
The situation felt absurd.
Ridiculous.
Like the kind of scenario that only worked inside novels people consumed for entertainment.
But experiencing it personally was entirely different.
This wasn't fiction anymore.
The cold marble beneath his fingers felt real.
The body he occupied felt real.
And the fear slowly settling inside his chest—
That felt the most real of all.
"…So this is actually happening."
A long silence followed.
Though part of him still wanted to deny reality, he no longer had the luxury of disbelief.
Whether he accepted it or not, he was here now.
Inside the world of The Forsaken Crown.
Inside the body of Darian Ashthorne.
Taking a slow breath, he forced himself to calm down.
Panicking wouldn't solve anything.
"I need to think…"
Still lost in thought, he quietly stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the room.
Or rather—
Darian's room.
"What am I supposed to do now…?"
His brows furrowed deeply as countless thoughts collided inside his mind.
If he truly remembered the story correctly, then the future waiting for this body was far from pleasant.
And depending on where in the timeline he currently was—
Things could become dangerous very quickly.
Exhaling slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed and tried organizing his thoughts.
But before he could think further—
"Ahhh…!"
A sudden startled scream shattered the silence.
His head snapped toward the source of the voice.
And there—
Standing near the entrance with wide trembling eyes—
He saw…