Elric fell from his bed—not from some ill sleeping habit, but because the frail thing finally gave way beneath him.
His legs remained tangled upon the broken frame whilst the rest of his body struck the floor with a dull thud.
A groan escaped him as splinters scraped and pierced his skin, drawing thin lines of blood upon his arms.
With much effort, he dragged himself upright, his body aching from the labour of the day.
From a crooked table beside him, he took up his old-model smartphone, though it could scarcely be called smart anymore and seemed little more than a common phone kept alive by stubbornness alone.
The dim screen showed it was still but one in the morning.
He let out a weary sigh and turned his gaze toward the window.
Cracks spread across the glass like frozen lightning, and through them the moonlight spilled into the room in bent and awkward shapes.
His nose twitched faintly; somewhere within the room lingered the foul scent of a rotten carcass or perhaps a dead rodent, though he lacked the energy to search for it.
Sleep weighed heavily upon him. After eight part-time shifts with scarcely a moment's rest between them, even standing had become a burden. Yet rest denied him still. A cold drop fell from the leaking roof onto his forehead.
His eyes snapped open. He rubbed the water from his brow and stepped toward the window.
His face bore no life within it as he pushed it open, only for the entire frame to fall clean away from the wall.
He did not so much as flinch, as though such happenings had long since become ordinary to him.
Leaning against the ruined frame, Elric stared blankly at the moon.
He was but twenty-two years of age, yet the burdens he carried had stolen much of his youth.
His face appeared nearer to that of a man seven years older, rough with crude beard and weariness, his posture forever slumped beneath invisible weight. Orphaned at sixteen, he had been left with nothing.
The wealth of his parents had been seized by greedy relatives, and he, still young and sheltered beneath his parents' care at the time, had possessed neither strength nor wit enough to resist them.
Even so, Elric endured.
At length, the cold night breeze drove him back into the room.
He picked up a broken piece of the bedframe and forced it against the empty window to block the wind.
The rotten wood cracked further beneath the pressure, yet he paid it no mind. Gaps still remained, though he cared little for them now.
Taking an old bedsheet, he gathered several pieces of cardboard brought back from his part-time work and fashioned a pitiful makeshift "DIY " bed upon the floor.
Once finished, he simply lay down upon it and, within moments, surrendered himself to sleep.
....
"Badrummm—!!!"
A loud and unfamiliar sound jolted Elric awake.
He shot upright from the bed, sweat trickling down the sides of his face while his blurry eyes struggled to focus.
His ears rang faintly, and amidst the confusion came a trembling feminine voice.
"Y-Young Master...?"
Elric slowly turned his head toward the source of the voice.
Standing near the grand doorway was a young woman clad in what appeared to be a medieval maid's cosplay of some sort.
Her posture was stiff with nervousness, and her hands trembled faintly before her apron.
The black-and-white uniform hugged her slender frame neatly, while a delicate white hairnet concealed most of her hair.
The few visible strands shimmered softly beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers above.
She was undeniably beautiful, fair-skinned and youthful, though the fear in her eyes dulled much of that beauty.
"Who...? Why are you here?" Elric asked.
The moment the words left his mouth, his brows furrowed.
Even his voice sounded unfamiliar—deeper, smoother, and far more refined than his own.
The maid immediately lowered her head the instant his gaze sharpened upon her, bowing so quickly it seemed instinctive.
Elric ignored her for the moment.
Instead, he slowly scanned the room around him.
Calling it a room felt insufficient.
It resembled the lavish chamber of royalty, something one would only see in historical dramas or fantasy film.
The floor beneath him was polished marble veined with silver patterns that reflected the warm amber glow of several ornate chandeliers overhead.
Expensive furniture crafted from dark wood and lined with gold occupied the chamber. Gems were embedded into the handles and corners as decoration alone.
Paintings hung across the walls in elaborate gilded frames like something from a museum of Picasso of some sorts.
Near one painting stood a full suit of ceremonial armor, its silver surface polished to perfection, etched with dragon-like engravings that gleamed beneath the light.
Elric's gaze lingered on the armor slightly longer than the rest.
Eventually, he returned his attention toward the maid, who had slowly raised her head again.
Only then did he realize how soft the bed beneath him felt—far softer than anything he had ever slept upon. The mattress nearly swallowed his body whole with comfort
Yet he ignored even that.
"Explain," he said coldly.
The maid flinched.
"My apologies, Young Master," she replied hastily. "Lord Duke awaits your presence for breakfast."
Elric remained silent.
Roleplay?
Was this some elaborate joke?
Nothing made sense.
He glanced around the room once more, but this time his eyes landed upon the large mirror beside the bed.
His pupils dialated as the man reflected within it was not him.
A stranger stared back.
He wore an expensive yet disheveled robe of deep navy blue lined with silver embroidery. His black hair was messy from sleep, falling over sharp eyes and pale features.
He looked handsome—noble even—but thinner .
Elric abruptly stood.
"What the—"
The maid suddenly turned around at his raised voice and bent forward deeply in panic, lifting the edges of her long skirt .
The motion exposed pale skin marked with several red and purple bruises .
Elric froze.
"...Did I hire some sadistic whore yesterday?" he muttered instinctively. "No... I don't remember drinking... and I definitely didn't do drugs."
His eyes shifted between the trembling maid and the stranger in the mirror.
A lucid dream?
"Call my name," Elric suddenly said.
The maid blinked in confusion and slowly looked back at him.
"Not 'Young Master.' My name."
She hesitated.
The moment Elric frowned slightly, her body trembled harder.
"D-Daren..."
"Full name."
"Daren Pendragon."
"Oh..."
Elric stared at the mirror silently.
....
Before becoming orphaned at sixteen, Elric had been an otaku.
He spent countless nights reading novels, bingeing anime, and devouring fantasy comics.
Among all the clichés and overused plots, one genre had always fascinated him the most:
Transmigration.
Taking over another body.
Reincarnating into another world, or isekai .
Elric struggled to reject the absurd thought forming within his mind, but every piece before him pointed toward the same impossible conclusion.
There was no prank show in existence capable of recreating this.
Not this unfamiliar body he could physically feel as his own.
His appearance had changed completely, and even his voice no longer belonged to him.
And judging by the surroundings... he had not transmigrated into the body of some ordinary villager.
This body seems to belonged to someone powerful.
Noble of some sorts according to the title young master the maid was using .
Hmm and im not likely to be a hero or good person .
The bruises upon the maid alone spoke volumes.
It did not take long for Elric to piece together the most likely scenario.
Characters like this existed in nearly every novel he had ever read—the arrogant young noble, cruel and incompetent, destined to die early at the hands of the protagonist or some other unholy way.
A villain.
The kind doomed from the very beginning.
And despite the peril of such a realization...
Despite the uncertainty...
Despite knowing how such characters usually ended...
Elric could not stop the faint smile that slowly crept onto his face.