The first thing I notice is the taste of blood in my mouth.
*Thud.*
My heart hammers against my ribs—too fast, too hard, like it's trying to escape my chest. Pain radiates from the back of my skull, sharp and insistent.
*Where the fuck am I?*
I force my eyes open. Everything's blurry, swimming in and out of focus. Dark shapes. Ambient light filtering through... curtains? The air smells expensive—leather, cedar, something smoky and rich.
*This isn't my apartment.*
My apartment smelled like instant ramen and desperation. This place smells like money.
I try to sit up. My body doesn't respond right—too heavy, too coordinated. Like I'm wearing someone else's skin. The world tilts, and I'm suddenly on my hands and knees on cold marble floor.
*Crack.*
My palm slaps the ground, and the sound echoes in the cavernous space. I blink hard, forcing my vision to clear.
Marble floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows showing the New York skyline at night. Furniture that costs more than my college tuition. And when I look down at my hands—
These aren't my hands.
Mine were pianist's hands. Slender, calloused from guitar strings, with that scar on my left thumb from the kitchen accident sophomore year.
These hands are different. Stronger. Elegant but dangerous-looking. And on the right wrist, there's a tattoo—a stylized shadow in the shape of a wolf.
*No.*
*No, no, no.*
I lurch to my feet too fast. The room spins. I catch myself on the back of a leather couch, breathing hard, and that's when I see it—
A full-length mirror against the far wall.
The man staring back at me isn't Kai Mori.
He's taller. Broader shoulders. Sharp, aristocratic features that look carved from marble. Dark hair that's almost black, falling to just above his collar. Eyes that are an unnatural shade of silver-gray, like polished steel. Cheekbones that could cut glass. A jaw that belongs on a magazine cover.
And he's wearing a blood-stained white dress shirt.
"Holy shit," I whisper.
The voice isn't mine either. Deeper. Smoother. The kind of voice that could order someone's death without raising above a conversational tone.
I know this face.
I know this face because I spent three sleep-deprived nights last week reading a web novel called *Eclipse of the Shadow King*, and this face belongs to the villain. The one who dies in chapter forty-seven after being betrayed by everyone, losing a duel to the protagonist, and having his Essence Core shattered.
Damien Volkov.
The Heir of Shadows.
The doomed motherfucker who's destined to fail at everything and die screaming.
"No," I say again, but it comes out as a laugh this time. Hysterical. "No, this is—this is insane. This is—"
A memory that isn't mine slams into my skull like a hammer.
*Viktor Volkov standing over me. Cold eyes. Colder words. "You're weak, boy. A disgrace to our House."*
Another one.
*A woman with midnight-black hair and violet eyes. "Poor Damien. Always trying so hard. Always failing."*
And another.
*Blood on my hands. Someone screaming. The taste of copper and ash.*
"*Fuck*!" I grab my head, staggering backward. The memories keep coming—twenty-two years of life that isn't mine, pouring into my brain like scalding water. Childhood in the Volkov estate. Training to control shadows. Disappointing my father. Losing to my cousin in every. Single. Contest.
Being mocked at every supernatural gathering.
Being seen as the weak link in House Volkov.
Being the villain in training.
And then—
*Tonight. The Eclipse nightclub. A "business meeting" that turned into an ambush. Running through shadows. Someone hitting me from behind. Waking up here in my penthouse, bleeding.*
The memories stop as abruptly as they started, leaving me gasping against the window, my—no, *Damien's*—forehead pressed against the cold glass.
"Okay," I pant. "Okay, okay. Think. You're Kai Mori. College student. Music major. You were walking home from the library, and there was a car, and—"
Nothing. The memory ends with headlights and the screech of tires.
"Fuck."
I died. I actually died. And somehow, impossibly, I woke up here. In a body that doesn't belong to me. In a world that shouldn't exist. As a character destined to fail and die.
*This can't be real.*
But the blood on my shirt is real. The pain in my head is real. The taste of copper in my mouth is real.
And if this is real, then I'm completely fucked.
Because I know how Damien's story ends.
---
I'm still standing at the window, trying to process the absolute insanity of my situation, when the door to my penthouse opens.
*Click. Swish.*
I spin around, and my body moves differently than I expect—faster, more fluid. Muscle memory that isn't mine takes over. My hand goes to my hip, reaching for something that isn't there.
*Looking for a weapon*, I realize. *Damien's instincts.*
"Lord Volkov."
The woman who steps through the door makes me forget how to breathe.
She's stunning in a way that feels dangerous. Shoulder-length black hair with a single streak of silver. Pale skin that contrasts sharply with the black tactical outfit she's wearing—tight enough to move in, practical enough to hide weapons. But it's her eyes that catch me. Crimson red. Not contacts. Real.
Raven Blackwood.
Damien's bodyguard. His assistant. His oldest friend. And according to the novel, the first person who'll betray him when the protagonist offers her a better deal.
"You're bleeding," she says, her voice like silk over steel. She closes the door behind her with a soft *click* and moves toward me with predatory grace. "What happened?"
I open my mouth. Close it. My brain is screaming *abort, abort* because I have no idea how to play this. How does Damien usually act around her? What's their dynamic?
Think, Kai. Think.
"Ambush," I manage. The word comes out rough. "At Eclipse. Chen's people."
Her eyes narrow. "House Chen? Are you certain?"
"Pretty fucking certain when they're trying to bash my skull in."
*Good*, I think distantly. *That sounded like something Damien would say. Bitter. Angry.*
Raven stops a few feet away, studying me with those unsettling red eyes. There's something calculating in her gaze. Like she's reading me. Measuring me.
"You're acting strange," she says finally.
My heart skips. "I got hit in the head. I'm entitled to act strange."
"Mm." She tilts her head slightly, and a strand of that silver-streaked hair falls across her face. "Sit. I'll check for serious damage."
It's not a request.
I make my way to the couch and drop onto it. The leather creaks under my weight. Raven circles around behind me, and I feel her fingers in my hair—surprisingly gentle—probing the back of my skull.
*This is insane*, I think. *Yesterday I was cramming for a music theory final. Today I'm being checked for traumatic brain injury by a woman who can probably kill me seventeen different ways.*
"There's a lump," Raven murmurs. Her breath is warm against my ear. "But no fracture. You'll live."
"Lucky me."
"Indeed." She comes back around to face me, and there's something unreadable in her expression. "You should have called me immediately. I would have—"
"I handled it."
"You got ambushed and beaten. That's not handling it." Her voice sharpens. "House Chen is making a move, Damien. This isn't just street thugs looking for a payday. This is the beginning of something."
The way she says my—Damien's—name sends a strange shiver down my spine. Familiar. Intimate. Like she's said it a thousand times before in a thousand different situations.
"I know." I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes. "I know, Raven."
Silence stretches between us. I can feel her watching me. Analyzing.
"What do you want me to do?" she asks finally.
*Good question.*
What *would* Damien want? According to the novel, he's impulsive. Arrogant. Makes stupid decisions based on pride and anger. He'd probably demand retaliation. Escalate. Make everything worse.
But I'm not Damien.
Or... am I?
I open my eyes and meet her gaze. "Get me information. I want to know exactly who ordered this, why, and what they're planning next. Quietly. No retaliation yet."
Raven's eyebrows rise fractionally. "No retaliation? That's not like you."
*Shit.*
"I got hit in the head," I say again, forcing irritation into my tone. "Maybe it knocked some sense into me. Or maybe I'm tired of playing into everyone's expectations. Either way, I want intel before I make a move."
For a long moment, she just looks at me. Then, slowly, her lips curve into something that might be a smile.
"As you wish, Lord Volkov."
The formal title sounds wrong coming from her. But she turns and heads for the door, her boots silent on the marble floor despite their weight.
"Raven."
She pauses, glancing back over her shoulder.
"How long?" I ask. "How long have we known each other?"
Her expression shifts. Softens, just slightly. "Since we were children, Damien. You know that."
"Humor me."
"Fifteen years." She studies me for another moment. "Your father assigned me to you when you were seven and I was eight. You threw a tantrum. Said you didn't need a babysitter."
Despite everything, I almost laugh. That sounds exactly like something a spoiled seven-year-old would do.
"And you've been babysitting me ever since," I say.
"Something like that." The almost-smile returns. "Get some rest. I'll have information by morning."
Then she's gone, the door closing behind her with a soft *thud*.
I'm alone again.
In a penthouse that isn't mine.
In a body that isn't mine.
In a life that's supposed to end in failure and death.
"Fuck," I whisper to the empty room. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
---
That's when the System appears.
It starts as a pressure behind my eyes. Like the beginning of a migraine, but sharper. More focused. I wince, pressing my palm against my forehead, and—
*FLASH.*
Crimson light floods my vision. Not from outside. From inside my skull.
Text materializes in front of me, glowing like neon against the darkness of my closed eyelids. Elegant. Sinister. Written in a font that looks like calligraphy done in blood.
```
╔══════════════════════╗
║ THE CRIMSON INTERFACE ║
║ INITIALIZING... ║
╚══════════════════════╝
```
"What the—"
```
╔════════════════════════╗
║ SOUL INTEGRATION: COMPLETE ║
║ HOST DESIGNATION: DAMIEN. ║ ║VOLKOV. ║
║ STATUS: ANOMALY DETECTED ║
╚════════════════════════╝
```
*Anomaly detected.* Great. Even the supernatural System knows something's wrong.
The text shifts, morphing into something new.
```
╔═══════════════════════╗
║ WELCOME, TRAVELER ║
║ ║
║ You are not from this world. ║
║ You have been selected. ║
║ You have been given a gift. ║
║ ║
║ USE IT WISELY. ║
║ OR DON'T. ║
║ I ENJOY WATCHING EITHER WAY║
╚═══════════════════════╝
```
My blood runs cold.
The System *knows*.
It knows I'm not Damien. It knows I'm from another world. And it's... amused by this?
"Who are you?" I whisper.
The text pulses, like it's laughing.
```
╔═════════════════════╗
║ WHO I AM IS IRRELEVANT ║
║ WHAT I OFFER IS NOT ║
║ ║
║ YOU KNOW THE STORY ║
║ YOU KNOW HOW IT ENDS ║
║ THE QUESTION IS: ║
║ ║
║ WILL YOU CHANGE IT? ║
╚═════════════════════╝
```
My hands are shaking. "What do you want from me?"
```
╔══════════════════════╗
║ POWER IS EARNED ║
║ THROUGH CONQUEST ║
║ THROUGH DOMINATION ║
║ THROUGH CONNECTION ║
║ ║
║ IN THIS WORLD, STRENGTH COMES ║
║ FROM MANY SOURCES ║
║ BUT THE SWEETEST... ║
║ ║
║ IS FROM THE FLESH ║
╚═════════════════════╝
```
Oh.
*Oh.*
I remember reading about this in the novel. The power system. The way supernatural beings could grow stronger through... various methods. Combat. Meditation. And something the book had called "dual cultivation."
Sex.
The System is talking about sex.
"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter.
```
╔════════════════════════╗
║ CURRENT STATUS: ║
║ ───────────────────── ║
║ ESSENCE RANK: ADEPT (BEGINNING) ║
║ CONQUEST POINTS: 0 ║
║ HAREM MEMBERS: 0 ║
║ CULTIVATION PARTNERS: 0 ║
║ ABILITIES UNLOCKED: 8/32 ║
║ ║
║ YOU ARE WEAK, TRAVELER. ║
║ THE ORIGINAL DAMIEN WAS WEAK║
║ BUT YOU HAVE KNOWLEDGE HE DID NOT. ║
║ ║
║ USE IT ║
║ OR DIE AS HE WOULD HAVE. ║
╚═════════════════════════╝
```
The text fades, but a new window appears—smaller, translucent, hovering in the corner of my vision like a video game HUD.
```
╭─────────────────╮
│ DAMIEN VOLKOV │
│ RANK: ADEPT │
│ CP: 0 │
│ HAREM: 0 │
╰─────────────────╯
```
"This is insane," I say out loud. "This is completely insane."
But the System is real. The transmigration is real. This whole impossible situation is *real*.
And according to the System, I have a choice.
Use the knowledge I have from reading the novel. Change the story. Get stronger.
Or die as Damien was meant to die.
I think about the novel's ending. Damien, betrayed by everyone he trusted. Defeated by the protagonist, Ethan Hale—some self-righteous asshole with protagonist plot armor. His Essence Core shattered. His House destroyed. His body dumped in the river like trash.
I think about Raven, who'll eventually sell him out for a better deal.
I think about all the women in Damien's life who'll use him and discard him.
I think about Viktor Volkov, the cold-hearted father who sees his son as a disappointment.
And I think about the System's words.
*Will you change it?*
"Yeah," I whisper to the glowing text in my vision. "Yeah, I'll change it. Because fuck that story."
The System pulses with what feels like satisfaction.
```
╔════════════════════════╗
║ EXCELLENT ║
║ ║
║ YOUR FIRST QUEST AWAITS ║
║ SURVIVE THE NEXT SEVEN DAYS ║
║ WITHOUT LOSING YOUR STATUS ║
║ ║
║ REWARD: SHADOW STEP (UPGRADED) ║
║ FAILURE: DEATH ║
║ ║
║ THE GAME BEGINS NOW ║
╚════════════════════════╝
```
Then the crimson light fades, leaving only that small translucent window in the corner of my vision. A constant reminder that this is real. That I'm in a game I barely understand with rules I'm still learning.
Seven days to survive.
No pressure.
I lean back against the couch and stare at the ceiling. My ceiling, I guess. Damien's ceiling. Whatever.
"Okay," I say to the empty penthouse. "Okay. Think, Kai. You know the story. You know the major plot points. You know who the dangerous players are."
House Chen just tried to kill me. That's off-script—in the novel, the first major confrontation with House Chen doesn't happen until chapter twelve. Something's already changed.
Viktor Volkov, my "father," sees me as weak and useless. That's on-script.
Raven is loyal for now, but she'll betray me eventually if I can't give her a reason not to. That's the future I need to change.
And the protagonist, Ethan Hale, should be starting his own journey around now. Probably discovering his hidden bloodline or some shit. He's the real threat long-term.
But right now?
Right now, I need to survive the next seven days.
I need to figure out how to use these shadow powers without looking like a complete idiot.
I need to gather allies who won't betray me.
And apparently, according to the System, I need to start building a harem.
"My life is a fucking web novel," I mutter. "This is the dumbest thing that's ever happened to anyone."
But I'm not dead.
I'm alive—in a new body, in a new world, with a second chance.
And I'm going to use it.
I stand up, my body moving with that unnatural grace again. Damien's muscle memory. His instincts. But my mind. My knowledge. My determination.
I walk to the window and look out at New York City spread below me. Millions of people going about their lives, completely unaware that monsters walk among them. That supernatural bloodlines rule from the shadows. That their world is built on secrets and lies.
And I'm part of that world now.
The villain.
The weak link.
The doomed heir of House Volkov.
Except I'm not going to be doomed.
I'm going to rewrite this story.
I'm going to survive.
And if the System wants me to build a harem to do it?
Well.
Stranger things have happened.
Like transmigrating into a web novel.
I touch my fingers to the window, watching my reflection—Damien's reflection—stare back at me with those unsettling silver eyes.
"Game on," I whisper.
Behind me, shadows stir in the corners of the room, responding to emotions I don't fully understand yet. Power I haven't learned to control.
But I will.
Because I'm not Kai Mori anymore.
And I'm not the Damien Volkov from the novel.
I'm something new.
Something that shouldn't exist.
And I'm going to shake this world to its foundations.
The System chimes softly in my head.
```
╔════════════════════════╗
║ DAY 1/7 ║
║ STATUS: SURVIVING ║
║ ║
║ KEEP IT INTERESTING, TRAVELER║
╚════════════════════════╝
```
I smile at my reflection.
Seven days.
Let's see what I can do with them.
---