The room was silent.
Too silent.
Kairen sat up slowly, his breath uneven, feeling the softness of the bed beneath him and the weight of an unfamiliar body.
His gaze drifted toward the tall mirror across the room.
A pale reflection stared back.
Frailty.
That was the first word that came to his mind.
The boy in the mirror had thin arms, sunken shoulders, and dull gray eyes that seemed lifeless. His chestnut hair was messy and unkempt, framing a face so delicate that even a soft wind might shatter it.
Kairen raised his hand. The reflection did the same.
He clenched his fist… and felt nothing but weakness.
He stayed silent, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings.
Silk curtains. Golden edges. A crest carved into the wooden furniture.
Everything screamed wealth, nobility, and power.
And then it clicked.
"So… this is real," he muttered under his breath.
"I've been reincarnated… inside the book."
The Thrones.
He remembered it well. Back in prison, when walls closed in and time stood still, books were his only escape.
He read them to survive, to grow stronger, to learn strategy.
And he always drew inspiration from villains.
Because villains didn't play fair.
Villains won when heroes hesitated.
And The Thrones… was his favorite.
It was a book about a bastard child who rose to become emperor after the old ruler's death. But before the throne could be claimed, a power struggle erupted between the twelve great families—each hungry for control, each willing to spill rivers of blood for power.
Among those families was the Red Family.
One of the strongest… but also cursed with the weakest heir.
Fell Red.
The timid, soft-hearted fool who couldn't even kill a mosquito.
The boy who, in the book, died in the early chapters—used as nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game.
Kairen touched his frail chest, smirking faintly.
"My previous self… was that weakling."
"But I am not him."
His voice dropped to a whisper, carrying a dangerous edge.
"I'm different."
He leaned back, recalling more details.
In this book, there were no heroes.
No righteousness.
No mercy.
Everyone here was hungry for the throne, no matter how much blood they had to spill to reach it.
And deep inside, Kairen felt something dark stirring within him… a quiet thrill.
"A world where everyone kills for power…" he murmured, his lips curling into a grin.
"I always wanted something like this."
Knock. Knock.
The sound pulled him from his thoughts.
A timid voice came from the other side of the door.
"Y-Young Master Fell… the Duke is calling for you."
Kairen's smirk widened as he stared at his reflection one last time.
"Father, huh?"
He stood up slowly, his frail legs trembling under his weight.
But his eyes burned with a predator's resolve.
"Let's see what kind of man my 'father' really is."