The city outside the car window blurred into streaks of neon light and floating runes, but I barely noticed. My mind was still stuck on the same thought:
I didn't care if I died again.
I'd already done it once. My old life wasn't something anyone would write novels about, and this world—this glittering, floating, impossible world—was marching toward the worst ending imaginable. If it all went down in flames, maybe I would just go with it.
The car slowed as we approached an enormous perimeter wall. In the center stood a gate made of liquid silver, rippling like moonlight trapped in water. Two servants pressed their palms against glowing glass pedestals, and the entire gate dissolved into the ground.
Magic and tech. This world was just showing off now.
The car glided forward, revealing the Dominic Mansion.
Calling it a "mansion" felt like calling the ocean a puddle. It was a fortress of white marble and curved glass, surrounded by floating lanterns that drifted above the roof like captured stars.
The doors opened, and Lara stepped out with a soft smile.
"Welcome to your new home."
I returned her smile, thin and empty. I didn't know the social rules of this world yet, so silence felt safer than saying the wrong thing. She gently took my hand and led me inside.
We stepped into a hall so extravagant it made my past life feel like a bad joke. Crystal floors reflected the sky like a mirror. A grand staircase climbed upward, carved from what looked like a single slab of enchanted diamond.
Then I saw him.
A boy stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, glaring at me like I'd crawled out of a sewer.
"Who the hell is this beggar?" he snapped.
Beggar? I looked at my dusty clothes. Okay, fair, but still—rude.
"Jamie, be nice," Lara scolded. "That is not how you greet your brother."
Brother?
Oh great. I had been in this world for two hours and was already being assigned relatives.
"I'd rather die," Jamie hissed and stomped away.
What a warm welcome.
"I'm sorry," Lara whispered. "They aren't used to new people yet."
They?
Plural?
Just my luck.
"I'm tired," I said quietly.
Her expression softened. "Of course. You've been through so much."
She guided me to a room that was larger than my entire apartment in my previous life. Silk sheets. Touch-screen mirrors. A balcony overlooking a city where magic hummed in the streets like electricity.
"This will be your room from now on," she said, hovering by the door. "Rest. I'll call you for dinner."
When the door clicked shut, I finally breathed.
A doomed future.
A powerful family.
A mansion that would one day burn in the Demon King's flames.
I threw myself onto the mountain of silk pillows.
"Do they serve last-meals in this place?" I muttered.
Sleep refused to come.
I wandered toward the giant mirror glowing faintly along the wall and froze the moment I saw my reflection.
A boy of fifteen stared back.
Slim build.
Dark roots fading into shimmering silver hair.
A face so beautiful it felt unreal.
But it was the eyes that made my heart stop—deep red, glowing faintly like polished rubies.
Silver hair.
Red eyes.
Rare beauty.
Jayden Cross.
A background character from the novel. A tragic extra who was destined to die in a muddy alley before his life even began.
My stomach dropped.
You have GOT to be kidding me.
Before I could process any of it, pain exploded inside my skull.
I collapsed onto the floor, biting down on the silk sheets to stop the scream clawing out of my throat as foreign memories tore into me like barbed wire.
Cold nights.
Starvation.
The smell of rain in an alley.
A life lived in shadows, in fear, in hunger.
Jayden's memories.
And then—darkness.
I gasped, sitting upright.
Only twenty minutes had passed, but my head felt twice as heavy—full of a life that wasn't mine.
Before I could think too deeply, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
A woman in a crisp black uniform entered with perfect posture.
"My name is Stephanie, the Head Maid. Madam Lara requested I prepare a warm bath for you."
She carried clothes softer than any fabric I'd ever touched and walked to a door at the far side of the room. She pressed her fingertips to a glowing blue rune—
—and steam instantly filled the air.
Runes for hot water.
At this point, nothing surprised me. The toilet could shoot lightning and I'd probably just nod politely.
"Please wash up," she said with a graceful bow before stepping out.
I walked into the bathroom and forgot how to breathe.
The walls were translucent white jade.
The bathtub was carved from a single block of floating obsidian.
Silver sparkles drifted through steaming water that smelled like cedar and clean magic.
I slipped in, letting the warmth seep into every scar I now understood.
Because Jayden Cross wasn't just a background character—he was an F-Class.
The lowest rank.
The rejected.
The "Useless."
At age ten, everyone in this world Awakened. S-rank was legendary; F-rank was a curse.
Jayden awakened as an F-Class.
He was sold by the orphanage like cheap scrap to a drunk named Chadwick. For years he stole, lied, and suffered beatings just to survive.
Then Melody appeared—a terrified ten-year-old girl dumped into that same hell. Jayden protected her. Took her beatings. Did her work. Kept her alive even while he broke.
Until last night.
Until Chadwick tried to corner Melody.
Until Jayden snapped.
Until he struck Chadwick with a chair and bought her a chance to run.
Until he was beaten half to death and left in an alley.
Until…
I woke up in his body.
I looked at the fading scars on my skin.
"This kid should've died," I muttered. "So why didn't he?"
Why was I alive?
What brought me here?
And—what was hidden inside this body?
I stepped out of the tub, dried off, and put on the soft, rich clothes Stephanie left behind. My brain was exhausted. My soul felt twice as old.
I fell onto the massive bed and let the silk swallow me whole.
"What a chaotic day," I whispered.
Before I could worry about Jamie, the Demon King, or my own upcoming "death scene," sleep finally dragged me under.