The light from his phone screen was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.
Kael's eyes stung, but he couldn't stop reading.
Crimson Reign, Chapter 822 – Final Entry.
His thumbs hovered over the digital page. He had devoured this novel like a starving animal the past three months, escaping his bland, gray life by immersing himself in a world of bloodlines, betrayals, ancient magic, and immortal monsters.
Now… it was over.
"And so the Vampire King sat alone on the Throne of Thorns, smiling at the dying gods, his empire reborn in fire, his eyes shining with crimson eternity."
Kael let out a breath. A long, low exhale. He stared at the last line, read it three more times, then slumped back in his chair.
A weird mix of satisfaction and sadness tugged at his chest.
"Damn," he muttered. "That was… perfect."
His heart pounded.
Why was it pounding?
The light flickered.
Something cracked deep inside his skull.
He reached up, confused, pressing fingers to his temple—but the pressure was spreading like a bloom of fire through his brain.
"What the—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
The phone slipped from his fingers. His vision tunneled. A wet warmth filled his mouth. Something hot spilled down his chin.
And then—Blackness.
Not sleep.Not unconsciousness.Just…gone.
When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was red velvet.
For a full three seconds, Kael stared at the massive crimson canopy above him. The fabric shimmered slightly, embroidered with gold threads shaped like twisting serpents.
He blinked.
A crystal chandelier loomed over him, flickering with soft blue witchlight.
His body—smaller. Lighter. Wrong.
His head spun. His heart was pounding.
He sat up too quickly, and his vision swam. Pale, soft hands clutched at silk sheets.
His hands.
They were tiny.
"What the hell…"
The voice that left his throat was childlike. Soft. High-pitched.
Panic flooded his chest. He whipped his head to the side.
Massive marble walls surrounded him. Ornate carvings of bats, roses, and swords decorated obsidian furniture. A dark fireplace burned low in the corner. It looked like a throne room disguised as a bedroom.
Then he caught a flash of himself in the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe.
He froze.
A child—no older than five—stared back at him.
Porcelain-pale skin. Snow-white hair. And eyes that glowed like molten rubies.
"…Is that me?" he whispered.
No. This was wrong. He was seventeen. He had just been reading a webnovel in his crappy room. He had school tomorrow. He—
Died.
The memory punched him in the gut.
The fire in his head. The blackout.
"Wait—wait, wait—this isn't real…"
The door creaked open.
A tall, elegant woman in a dark maid's uniform stepped inside, carrying a tray of polished silver.
Her eyes met his, and she immediately dropped into a deep, graceful bow.
"Young Master Kael," she said, her voice soft as smoke. "You're awake."
He stared at her. His heart thundered.
"…Young Master what?"
She looked up, confusion flickering in her features. "Kael Valtazar, young heir of House Valtazar."
He mouthed the name.
Kael Valtazar.
Not his surname. But… Kael. His name.
A coincidence? A trick?
Or—
Reincarnation.
His fingers trembled.
"Where am I?" he asked.
The maid tilted her head gently. "The Nightglass Spire, my lord. Capital seat of the Crimson Dominion."
Crimson. Dominion.
His breath caught in his throat.
That wasn't just a name from a dream. That was the main setting of Crimson Reign, the novel he had just finished.
No. No way.
But then again, the name of the Vampire King… the final emperor…
It had been: Valtazar.
He stumbled out of bed. His legs were small but stable. The world felt huge—gothic and surreal. Candlelight flickered on marble and onyx. Everything smelled faintly of blood and roses.
He padded toward the mirror, bare feet cold against the stone floor.
The child in the reflection stared back.
Too perfect. Too sharp. Ethereal.
White hair. Crimson eyes that practically glowed.
He reached up with one trembling hand, touching beneath his eye.
That's when the pain came.
A sharp, blinding flash behind both eyes—like needles stabbing into his brain.
He dropped to one knee, gasping.
Then the world changed.
Lines lit up across the room.
The maid glowed with a soft red aura. Numbers and letters flickered in his vision, floating above her head like translucent holograms.
[Name: Elira. Species: Vampire. Age: 123. Loyalty: 92%. Emotion: Calm / Slight concern.]
His eyes widened.
Information. Feelings. Magic signature. Like a game UI, but more real. More alive.
He turned toward the bedpost, and more labels appeared. Every object. Every detail. All of it categorized, analyzed, filed in perfect clarity.
[Object: Bedpost – Ebony wood. Grade: Noble-class. Craft Origin: Crimson Dominion Artisan's Guild.]
His breath came faster.
He wasn't just reincarnated. He was modified.
Something inside him had… awakened.
A power. In his eyes.
He looked back at the maid.
She flinched—just slightly—under his gaze.
[Eye of God: ACTIVE]
A voice echoed softly inside his mind.
He could see the truth. Feel the atmosphere shift. His mind recorded everything instantly.
He could sense her thoughts teetering. Her wariness. Her loyalty.
And if he willed it—…he could nudge her fear just a little higher.
Just enough to make her bend the knee.
He blinked, and the haze faded.
The maid was still watching him, concerned.
"Young Master…? Shall I call for your mother?"
Kael didn't answer.
He was staring at the mirror.
At the boy.
At the monster he'd become.
He wasn't just a vampire.
He was a prince.
And in his eyes… slept the power of gods and curses.