The ceiling above me wasn't mine.
It wasn't cracked plaster with faint stains of water from last year's rainy season. No cheap fan spinning lazily above my head. Instead, a golden chandelier sparkled, dangling from carved wooden beams.
"…What the hell?"
I sat up quickly, my body heavier than I remembered, the blanket silky against my skin. The bed was huge—three times larger than the one I owned in my cramped apartment back on Earth. My heart raced.
This wasn't my room.
This wasn't my world.
I swung my legs off the bed and caught sight of a tall mirror standing near the window. My reflection froze me in place.
The face staring back wasn't mine.
The boy had silver hair that glimmered faintly, almost glowing in the morning sun. His eyes were crimson, sharp like burning coals. His skin was pale, too perfect to belong to any ordinary human.
"…No way. No, no, no—this is—this is wrong."
I stumbled closer to the mirror, gripping the edges of the polished frame. The boy in the mirror copied me, wide-eyed, trembling.
"This face… these eyes… I know them."
I had seen this face before. On a computer screen. In a game . A game I had played.
"…Riel Arkwood."
The name escaped my lips in a whisper.
Riel Arkwood. The villain of Blade Destiny. The one destined to fall. The one who existed only to be destroyed by the hero in the end.
My throat went dry.
"No. This… can't be happening. Why him? Why me?!"
I pressed my hands against my face, breathing fast. But the mirror didn't lie. The world didn't lie. The weight of the silk shirt on my shoulders, the scent of lavender in the air, the faint warmth of sunlight on my skin—everything was too real to be a dream.
I wasn't myself anymore.
I wasn't in my world anymore.
I was Riel.
And then, on the desk by the bed, I noticed it.
A black leather-bound diary.
It was lying open, as though it had been waiting for me. The handwriting inside wasn't elegant like the nobles of this world. It was messy, rushed, uneven. My breath caught in my chest when I read the first words written on the page:
"You shouldn't have been the hero. That story was never yours. It belongs to me."
"What the hell…" I muttered, flipping the page. More lines followed, scrawled in the same frantic script.
"Remember this, Riel Arkwood. You are not the one who shines. You are not the one chosen. But if you refuse to accept your role, then both you and the hero will burn together."
"…Me? Refuse?" I whispered, my hands trembling.
This didn't make sense. Why would there be a diary here? Who wrote it? And why did it feel like… like it was talking directly to me?
Knock. Knock.
The sound jolted me.
"Y–Yes?!" My voice cracked.
"Young Master Riel," a calm voice answered from behind the door. "It is past morning bell. Your father requests your presence at the main hall."
Father. My stomach sank. That meant the Duke of Arkwood. The cold, ruthless man who raised Riel into a weapon and set him against the world.
I forced myself to speak. "I… I'll be there soon."
"Very well." The butler's footsteps faded down the corridor.
I sank onto the chair by the desk, burying my face in my hands.
This wasn't just some fanfiction or dream. This was real. I had become the villain of my own story. The one I had made suffer. The one I had destined to die.
"…Why? Why me? Why not the hero?" I laughed bitterly, but no sound of joy came out. Only emptiness.
The diary lay open before me, the ink shimmering faintly as if alive. My eyes caught the last line written at the bottom of the page:
"Not the hero, not again. But this time… you decide."
I closed the book slowly. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it echo in my ears.
Not the hero.
Not again.
But maybe… maybe that wasn't the end.
I stood, staring at the mirror once more. At the face of Riel Arkwood. The villain who was meant to die.
"…Fine," I whispered to my reflection. "If I have to live as you, then I'll change everything. I won't let the story end the way it was."
The boy in the mirror smirked back at me.
For the first time, it felt like the villain wasn't alone.