"F*ck this."
I slammed my chair back so hard it screeched across the floor, glaring at the glowing spreadsheet like it personally owed me money.My desk was a graveyard of instant noodle cups, empty coffee cans, and crumpled sticky notes that looked like battlefield casualties. The faint hum of my overworked laptop fan was the only sound in my apartment.
I rubbed my burning eyes. Permanent black circles stared back at me from the reflection in my darkened screen. My room? A war zone. Piles of unwashed laundry formed barricades against the walls. Fast-food wrappers carpeted the floor.
"I just got home. I wanted to sleep… maybe read a novel… but no. Ricky goes on honeymoon, so I get all his work dumped on me?"
My laugh came out dry, cracked — the laugh of a man already dead inside."Good for him," I muttered. "At least the guy married the woman he loved."
Me? I couldn't even remember the last time I smiled. Office. Home. Repeat. No family. No close friends. Just deadlines and headaches.
I opened another file. "Finish the presentation or get screamed at by the boss again. Great choice."
The words blurred. My eyelids grew heavier with every slide I edited… my head drooped…
When I opened my eyes again—
"...Eh? Where the hell am I?"
I was lying on a bed so soft it felt like sinking into a warm cloud. For a second, I thought I was dreaming. Then the cold realization hit — my ceiling was wrong.
Above me stretched a high, arched ceiling painted with golden filigree, glowing faintly in the morning light. Tall, diamond-paned windows let sunlight spill into the room, illuminating velvet curtains the color of deep wine. A massive crystal chandelier hung above, scattering light like a net of starlight.
The walls were carved oak panels, etched with scenes of hunting stags and armored knights locked in battle. A thick crimson carpet muffled the sound of my movements as I sat up. To my side, a table bore a neat stack of leather-bound books with gold-embossed titles… and a silver tray with fresh fruit and a decanter of wine.
This wasn't my cramped noodle-cup apartment. This was straight out of some medieval aristocrat fantasy.
"...Wait," I muttered. "Did I get kidnapped by royalty or—?"
I staggered to my feet and caught sight of a massive floor-length mirror.
The reflection stopped me cold.
A boy — maybe twelve years old — stared back. Snow-white hair, pale skin, eyes like pools of crimson. Handsome, aristocratic features… but that wasn't the point. Sweat trickled down my temple.
"Lucien Blackthorne…?" I breathed.
It all came flooding back. Last week, I'd read The Hero of the Radiant Dawn. A standard fantasy harem romp. The hero, a fallen noble, rises through grit and luck, exposes corrupt nobles, wins over a flock of beautiful heroines, and finally marries the princess to become king.
Lucien Blackthorne? Trash-tier villain. Youngest son of a duke. Arrogant. Spoiled. Bullied commoners, picked fights, and embarrassed his family. The Blackthorne territory mocked him behind closed doors. In the novel, he was poisoned and died early — paving the way for the hero to shine.
And now… I was him.
"But who poisoned me?" I muttered. My gut twisted. I hadn't even read the whole novel — I'd skimmed large parts. I didn't know the fine details.
"What the f*ck is this?" I cursed under my breath. "I was just working in my room and the next second I'm a third-rate side character fated to die?"
I wanted to cry, but—
DING!
[Fated host found]
A crimson screen materialized in midair.
[Blood Emperor System: Activated][Host Name: Lucien Blackthorne (New Blood Emperor)][Title: Blood Emperor Monarch][Stage One: The Blood Initiate]
[Stats]Strength: 8Dexterity: 9Constitution: 3 (ALERT LEVEL)Intelligence: 14Charisma: 8Bloodline Purity: 8%
[Skills][Bloodline Sight (Active)]: See a person's blood affinity and threat level.[Blood Manipulation (Passive)]: Control your own blood to heal minor wounds or boost stats briefly at the cost of life force.[Dread Aura (Passive)]: Passively intimidates weaker targets, generating small amounts of Dread.
My jaw dropped. Then a surge of joy rushed through me.
"Yes… YES! I actually have a cheat!" I clenched my fists. "Finally, I can turn this around."
Blood Emperor… I didn't know why or how, but I didn't care. This was my way to rewrite my fate.
From this moment forward… I was Lucien Blackthorne.
DING!
[System Alert: Host life status — CRITICAL.][Warning: Host body has been poisoned. Estimated time until death: 4 days.][Survival Quest: Acquire the "Sanguine Orchid" before time runs out.]
"What the hell?!" My voice cracked. "I just transmigrated and I'm already on a death timer?!"
I slammed my fist into the wall — pain shot up my arm. Solid. Real.
I paced the lavish room like a caged beast.Four days. Ninety-six hours.In the novel, Lucien had months before his death. Why was the timeline already changing?
"Priority one: find the orchid. Priority two: survive the ones trying to kill me."
[System Hint: The Sanguine Orchid blooms only under moonlight in the Crimson Hollow.][Danger Level: Extremely High — Demonic Beast Territory.]
My stomach dropped. In the original plot, the Crimson Hollow was where the hero saved the saintess from a rampaging beast — securing her undying loyalty.
If I went there first… I could not only live, but steal the saintess from the hero's grasp.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across my lips.
"Fine. If fate wants to kill me… I'll kill fate first."
Outside, the wind hissed through the courtyard trees. In the shadows, a hooded figure slipped away — an empty vial hidden in their sleeve.
Knock. Knock.
A soft, feminine voice came from the other side of the door.
"Lord Lucien, Lady Saintess… is here to see you."
I froze.
The saintess?
In the novel, she and Lucien didn't meet until months later — right before his scripted death.
My pulse thundered. She was one of the hero's first heroines. If she was here now, then the story was already falling apart.
[System Alert: New Opportunity Detected.][Side Quest: "Steal the saintess's favor before the hero can meet her." Reward: Unknown.]
My lips curved into a wicked grin.
"Send her in."