Mystic Falls.
That was the name of a small town in Virginia, surrounded by dense forests and a river that seemed to cut through the heart of the place. Old red-brick houses, quiet streets, and an atmosphere that carried both the weight of tradition and a mysterious air. At first glance, it was just another peaceful town, but there was something almost suffocating in the silence among the trees and the lingering gazes of the locals toward outsiders.
It was morning, and as always, the town seemed enveloped in a deceptive calm. The newborn sun pierced through the treetops, painting the streets with golden beams that danced among the leaves. The air held that crisp freshness typical of early autumn, where the cold wasn't yet biting but was already present in the gentle breeze that swept through the town.
In the center, a relatively new building stood out by local standards. Five stories tall, built with understated lines but a certain imposing presence. On the top floor, the penthouse was distinct. Spacious, glass-walled, and with modern details that contrasted with the town's traditional architecture, it was the kind of place that drew attention for feeling out of place, as if it had been imported from a metropolis.
Inside the apartment, the ambiance blended comfort and luxury. Dark wood furniture, light-toned upholstery, well-placed paintings, and the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the panoramic balcony. Everything seemed carefully planned to exude elegance without excess.
In the open kitchen, by the marble countertop, a young man stood. The transparent glass in his hand reflected the golden morning light. He brought the water to his lips and, after a few sips, let out a deep, almost heavy sigh.
It was impossible to ignore his presence. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a defined physique, his body seemed molded to perfection. His facial features resembled those of an Eastern idol—refined, symmetrical, carrying a rare beauty that drew attention effortlessly. His black hair fell lightly over his forehead, and his intense green eyes held a silent melancholy.
He placed the glass on the counter, closing his eyes for a moment.
"So… it really happened. I've been reborn…" he murmured, his low voice filling the apartment's silence.
The realization sounded surreal even to him, but every detail around him, every sensation in the body he now inhabited, confirmed it beyond doubt. He was no longer in the world he knew.
Originally, he didn't belong to this world.
All he remembered was his old life: a soldier returning from yet another exhausting mission. After three years serving in Africa, he was finally going to have a few days off. The memory was still vivid in his mind—the familiar streets of his hometown, the anticipation of doing what he loved before joining the army, the simple desire to sleep in his own bed.
But he never made it home.
He was hit by a truck.
All he remembered was the screeching sound of brakes, the crushing pain of the impact. And then, darkness.
What came next was hazy. He couldn't describe that place, whether it was heaven, hell, or something in between. He only recalled a strange voice echoing directly in his head. A presence that didn't seem human. It had given him a chance—or perhaps it was just a cruel whim.
"—Spin the wheel."
He obeyed, without understanding.
The wheel spun, possibilities blurred before his eyes, and three outcomes emerged.
The first: to live again inside a TV series he had watched a few times—*The Vampire Diaries*.
The second: to receive the "Ryomen Sukuna (Megumi Fushiguro) Model," something he still hadn't fully grasped.
And the third: a "self-insertion," essentially a past in this world that existed as if he had lived it before being reborn, a version of himself.
When he opened his eyes, he was already here.
In a body with the appearance of Megumi Fushiguro mixed with Sukuna's in a realistic style, bearing the name Ryomen Sukuna…
People simply called him Ryan.
A nickname his childhood friends had come up with. Yes, unlike the King of Curses, he had friends here in Mystic Falls, and they were basically the entire cast of the series, except for the Salvatore brothers, whom he had never met.
Essentially, he was born and raised in Japan until his parents decided to move to Mystic Falls when he was only six years old.
His soft Japanese accent still slipped into some of his English words, which quickly caught the attention of his classmates. The kids looked at him with curiosity, some laughed, but Elena was the first to truly approach him.
He remembered her first words.
"Wanna play with us?" she had asked, with that warm smile that seemed so typical of her from the start.
From that moment, everything became easier. Bonnie and Caroline followed, and soon he was part of the small group that always gathered in the town square, school hallways, or lazy afternoons at the Mystic Grill. At eight years old, he remembered being part of a school play where Caroline insisted he be her "partner" on stage. She was bossy even back then, and Ryan ended up agreeing only because Elena and Bonnie laughed and said he wouldn't have the guts to refuse.
The memories kept piling up. At ten, they spent entire afternoons exploring the town's outskirts, making up stories about the cemetery or the ancient trees in the forest. Elena always made a grumpy face when Caroline invented scary legends, but it was Bonnie who clung to his arm, pretending to be scared, and he never knew if it was just an act.
Time passed. By twelve, they had an almost unbreakable routine: school in the morning, basketball with Tyler, Matt, and the other boys in the late afternoon, and at night, video games or movies at someone's house.
He became part of the extended family that Mystic Falls seemed to offer everyone.
Then came adolescence. From thirteen to fourteen, the bonds grew more complicated.
The first stolen kiss during a game of truth or dare, the nervous laughter when someone dared to ask, "What if you two dated?"
The friendships began to carry something more, something they didn't quite know how to handle. And after a complicated incident between him and the girls when they were fifteen, he returned to the East with his parents and spent the last two years there, only coming back about a week ago.
And yesterday, just yesterday, he had returned alone. His parents thought it would be "good for him" to live in Mystic Falls, unaware that this town was a stage for vampires, witches, and werewolves.
Far too convenient.
He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He felt the strangeness of possessing such a perfect body, so different from his old physique, marked by military scars.
It was too beautiful, almost unreal, and that bothered him in a way.
His green eyes gazed out at the town through the window.
"A second chance, huh…" he said with a half-smile.
The smile on his lips didn't last long. It soon faded, giving way to a cold look that contrasted with the golden light bathing the town.
He thought about his previous life.
The worn uniform, the constant smell of gunpowder, the suffocating heat of the African desert. For most, the army was about duty, honor, and patriotism.
For him?
It was never about that.
He joined the armed forces for fun. A twisted kind of fun, sure, but still a way to entertain himself in a world that felt empty to him. Shooting, hunting, facing death head-on—it gave him an almost pleasurable sense of being alive. While others sought glory or survival, he sought only… excitement.
In many ways, he was always similar to Sukuna.
If he didn't like someone, he found a way to eliminate them. If he wanted to eat, he ate. If he desired something, he took it. There were no barriers, no hesitation. Society's morals, the values ingrained in other soldiers—none of it meant anything to him.
To him, humans were nothing more than insects, though he was one too, by that label. In any case, humans were fragile creatures, crumbling at the slightest touch, yet still screaming for happiness as if they had some right to it.
He never understood.
Why did the weak cling so desperately to life? Why did they insist on enduring suffering that was born with them, instead of simply accepting it and fading away in silence? To him, it was illogical, almost pathetic.
Happiness was a luxury only the strong should have.
There was something cruel in that philosophy, but also a coldness that fit perfectly with who he was. And yet, even with all this indifference, he wasn't entirely a monster.
There was still a trace of humanity in him.
He enjoyed simple pleasures—a good meal, the intoxication of a night out, the thrill of sleeping with a beautiful woman. Perhaps that was what kept him from losing himself completely, a warped moral code, but still a limit that distinguished him from the original Sukuna.
He lowered his gaze to the empty glass on the counter and let out a low laugh.
"In the end, I guess I'm not so different from the demon I inherited… And speaking of which…" Ryan murmured, closing his eyes.
Before, he didn't understand what the "Ryomen Sukuna (Megumi Fushiguro) Model" meant. But in recent days, since waking up in this body, he had begun to instinctively understand bit by bit. He had essentially inherited all of Sukuna's powers.
In his mind, he delved deeper into his new memories of this world, finding a set belonging to Sukuna that he hadn't yet accessed but knew was there instinctively. It was as if his mind were a computer, and the file containing Sukuna's memories was in a separate folder he had to click to open…
He accessed it slowly…
Fortunately, it wasn't anything disturbing about the life of the King of Curses; it was more about his experience and everything related to Jujutsu.
At that moment, black marks appeared on his face, and his features took on a more devilish charm as two new, much smaller eyes appeared below his normal ones. He could feel the awakening of his Cursed Energy and Innate Technique at that moment, the vastness of an energy that surged in his stomach and coursed through his entire body, which he could easily flex to use his innate techniques…
Cursed Energy is born from negative emotions like fear, sadness, anger, hatred, and envy…
These emotions exist to some degree in most humans, and as a result, the vast majority of humans possess Cursed Energy. If this amount exceeds a certain threshold, it grants the person the ability to see cursed spirits. These individuals are known as Jujutsu sorcerers and are extremely rare among the human race. Cursed Energy leaks from the human body, accumulates, and ferments over time until a cursed spirit manifests. This is only the case for non-sorcerers, as sorcerers are trained to control and channel their Cursed Energy into Jujutsu.
Cursed Energy is the primary power source for any sorcerer or cursed spirit; sorcerers voluntarily produce this energy, similar to generating electricity, and since negative emotions are the trigger, sorcerers train to create Cursed Energy from the smallest spark of emotion… It is typically used to power cursed techniques, reinforce the body, or activate talismans, but Cursed Energy has various uses. The properties of Cursed Energy vary from person to person, and its connection to the human brain is shrouded in mystery.
The total amount of an individual's Cursed Energy is not determined by how many negative emotions they have but by their innate talent for Jujutsu. In his case, he possessed an almost limitless amount of Cursed Energy.
However, he knew with absolute clarity that he was far from the peak of the "King of Curses." His Cursed Energy was only a tenth of what it should be, and that irritated him. The body, though perfect, wasn't monstrous like in Sukuna's memories—only superhuman. Strength, speed, reflexes, endurance, all at levels surpassing any athlete and reaching or even exceeding those of a vampire in this world, but still far from the monstrosity he knew he could achieve.
Ryan opened his eyes slowly, his breathing mingling with the electric sensation still coursing through his body.
The black marks vanished from his face like smoke, but faint traces remained on his wrists—thin, symmetrical lines, almost like tribal tattoos that burned in a dark hue against his pale skin.
He raised his hand, observing those marks with a cold and curious gaze. It was strange… but at the same time, natural.
As if it had always belonged to him.
Without thinking too much, he raised his index finger. A single, delicate, controlled gesture, but loaded with intent.
"[Dismantle]…" he murmured.
The empty glass on the counter didn't stand a chance. In an imperceptible instant, it was sliced into two perfect halves, as if cleaved by an invisible blade. No shards flew, no sound of breaking glass echoed. Just two smooth parts, so straight they seemed carved by a machine.
Ryan stared at it in silence.
The perfection of the cut, the absurd precision of the technique, the coldness of something that could slice through flesh and bone with the same ease it had divided that glass. He had truly inherited Sukuna's experience with his cursed technique instinctively! All that was missing was time for his formerly human body to adapt and return to the peak where he could destroy a city with ease.
Fortunately, he wasn't in the world of *The Vampire Diaries* books, which was a nightmare-level world due to the absurd power levels—even if he were Sukuna with Mahoraga, he'd be a ragdoll against the book characters. But since this was the TV series world, things were quite different…
He smirked.
If with just a tenth of Sukuna's original energy he could already do this, what would he be capable of when he reached his peak?
He clenched his fist, feeling the Cursed Energy stir in his stomach like a wild animal, ready to be tamed or unleashed at any moment.
A predatory glint crossed his green eyes as the promise of fun and chaos began to form in his mind.
He would do whatever he wanted in this world. That's how he had always lived, and that wasn't going to change…
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