He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.
- Friedrich Nietzsche
———
The blue light from my monitor painted harsh shadows across the cramped dorm room. Empty energy drink cans formed a small fortress around my laptop, and the clock in the corner read 2:47 AM.
Perfect time to reread this damn novel.
The comments section of Heirs of the Azure Orb, Chapter 347, was a digital bloodbath. I scrolled, watching the sharks circle the latest plot development. Most were praising the golden boy protagonist Leo for his "heroic restraint" in dealing with the story's designated punching bag.
Heroic restraint my ass.
My fingers moved across the keyboard:
"Kaelen Leone is a narrative black hole, a character so fundamentally flawed he threatens to collapse the entire story under the weight of his own pathetic villainy. A perverted coward who preys on servants and commoners? Really? And now we're supposed to feel satisfied watching Leo 'discipline' him tomorrow? This isn't character development—it's just lazy writing that uses a strawman villain to make the protagonist look good. If I were Kaelen, I'd have thrown myself off a cliff by now. Anything to stop embarrassing the family name."
I hit enter and leaned back in my chair, satisfied. The comment would probably get buried, but at least I'd said my piece about—
The screen flickered.
The pixels twisted, spiraling inward like water down a drain. Colors bled together, forming patterns that hurt to look at directly. I squeezed my eyes shut, the gritty burn of sleeplessness protesting. A hallucination. It had to be. My brain was finally staging a coup.
"What the hell—"
My voice cut off as reality folded in on itself. The last thing I saw was my comment, glowing brighter than the rest of the screen, before everything went black.
===
Then... coolness.
That was my first coherent thought.
I kept my eyes closed, clinging to the desperate hope that this was just a very vivid dream. Maybe I'd finally passed out at my desk and my brain was processing the webnovel I'd been reading. That had to be it. People didn't just get sucked into computer screens… that was fiction, and bad fiction at that.
Okay, Alex. Just open your eyes and prove you're still in your shitty dorm room.
I cracked one eyelid open and immediately wanted to slam it shut again.
Vaulted ceiling. Tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of knights and magical creatures that looked suspiciously familiar. A massive window dominated one wall, letting in morning light that illuminated dust motes dancing in the air.
A mirror stood across the room.
I didn't want to look, but I had to.
Black hair fell across my face—not my usual brown. Light grey eyes stared back at me instead of dark blue. The face was younger, with the kind of aristocratic features that belonged in a period drama.
A face I'd seen rendered in countless webnovel illustrations. A face I had just spent an hour eviscerating online.
No. No, no, no.
Kaelen Leone's reflection stared back, wearing my own terror like a mask.
A soft knock echoed through the room. "Young Master Kaelen?"
I spun toward the door, nearly tripping over my own feet. A maid entered without waiting for permission—middle-aged, with graying hair pulled back in a bun and the kind of neutral expression servants wore when they'd rather be anywhere else.
"Young Master Kaelen," she repeated. "I trust you slept well?"
I tried to speak, but my throat locked up. All I could manage was a useless click of the tongue.
What was I supposed to say? Actually, I'm not Kaelen, I'm a college student from another world who thinks your young master is a pathetic waste of oxygen?
"I...fine. I slept fine."
"Your morning attire has been prepared," she continued, gesturing toward a chair where clothes had been laid out. Dark, simple garments that looked expensive but understated—the kind of thing a minor noble might wear when trying not to draw attention. "Your cousin, Young Master Leo von Valerius awaits you in the courtyard for your... scheduled discipline."
Scheduled discipline.
I knew exactly what that meant. Chapter 7 of Heirs of the Azure Orb. The opening scene where the golden boy protagonist publicly humiliates Kaelen for his latest transgression—something involving harassment of a servant girl. It was the perfect opening act for the readers back home. The righteous hero, Leo, putting the scumbag noble in his place to win their immediate adoration. I was just the prop designed to make him shine.
And according to the timeline, it was happening today.
"I... perhaps we could postpone—"
"Young Master Leo was quite insistent," the maid interrupted. "He mentioned that delays would only make the lesson more... thorough."
Thorough. Right.
The maid turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Young Master, if I may offer some advice?"
I nodded, hoping she might have some insight that could help me survive the next hour.
"Accept your punishment with dignity. Young Master Leo is... merciful to those who show proper remorse."
Merciful. Sure. In the novel, Leo's idea of mercy was stopping before permanent damage. What a saint.
The door clicked shut, and the silence in the room was deafening. My breath hitched, coming in short, sharp bursts.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, but the image of that aristocratic face in the mirror was burned onto the back of my eyelids.
This wasn't a dream.
There was no waking up.
Think, Alex. Think like the engineering student you are, not the panic-stricken idiot you're acting like.
I knew the story. I knew what was supposed to happen. In roughly thirty minutes, I was supposed to walk into that courtyard where Leo and his friends would be waiting. Kaelen would try to bluster and threaten, using his family name as a shield. Leo would calmly explain Kaelen's crimes—harassment, abuse of servants, general scumbaggery. Then came the "lesson."
I could already feel it. The phantom crack of ribs under Leo's boot. The searing agony of a shoulder wrenched from its socket.
The novel described it in detail: a week in bed, unable to move without wincing. All perfectly justified, of course, because he was a cartoonish villain who deserved everything he got.
But I wasn't that Kaelen. I hadn't done those things. I was just some college student who'd made the cosmic mistake of criticizing a fictional character.
I pushed the existential crisis aside and focused on immediate survival. Running wasn't an option—this was the Leone family estate, and I had nowhere to go. Fighting back would just make things worse, assuming I could even throw a punch with these noodle arms.
That left endurance. Take the beating, survive it, and figure out how to navigate this world afterward.
My mind raced, grasping for the one lifeline every transmigrator gets. 'Status,' I thought, focusing inward with all my might. 'System Menu. Character Sheet. Anything.'
Silence.
Not a blue screen, not a floating window, not even a disembodied voice. There was nothing. Just the frantic pulse in my ears and the chilling realization that I hadn't been transported into a game. I'd been thrown into a grave with someone else's name on it.
I pulled on the clothes the maid had left, fingers trembling as I fastened the buttons. The fabric felt foreign against my skin, too fine and too formal. Everything about this body felt wrong—the way it moved, the way it breathed, even the way it stood.
A window overlooked the courtyard where my fate waited. I could see figures gathering below, though the angle made it hard to make out details. One stood apart from the others, tall and confident.
Leo von Valerius. The golden boy himself.
At least I'll get to meet a protagonist before I die. That's something, right?
Another knock interrupted my spiral into hysteria. This time, the maid didn't wait for permission.
"Young Master, it's time."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. My legs were liquid as I followed her. Corridors stretched on, lined with portraits of stern-faced ancestors. The Leones. Their painted eyes seemed to track my shameful procession.
What would they think if they knew their pathetic bloodline was now piloted by a stranger who got here by shitposting?
The thought almost made me laugh again. Almost.
We reached a set of double doors that opened onto the courtyard. Sunlight streamed through, warm and golden and beautiful. It seemed wrong that such a lovely morning should be the backdrop for what was about to happen.
"Young Master," the maid said quietly, "remember what I told you about dignity."
I was about to be publicly humiliated and physically brutalized, but I should maintain my dignity while it happened.
Welcome to aristocratic life, I guess.
I stepped through the doors. The courtyard air was warm, smelling of trimmed grass and morning dew—a beautiful day for an execution. And there he was. Leo von Valerius. Golden hair, sapphire eyes, the very picture of a protagonist.
His eyes flicked to me, and for a heartbeat, they weren't just looking. They were assessing. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of blue mana coated his knuckles.
He wasn't smiling. A predator doesn't smile at its meal.