Derek hadn't expected his life to change in an instant. One minute, he was a regular guy living in a small town, working a mundane office job, and enjoying simple pleasures like family dinners and weekends with his friends. The next minute, he was thrust into a world he never knew existed—a world where he was no longer the person he thought he was, and where the clock on his life was ticking down fast. It started on his 30th birthday. Derek had just finished a low-key celebration with his family—a homemade dinner, a cake with too many candles, and laughter around the table. That night, as he was heading to bed, something strange happened. A cold wind brushed past him despite the closed windows, and a voice, faint yet haunting, filled his mind. "You have four months left, Derek." He froze, unsure of where the voice had come from. There was no one around. No one except the quiet hum of his house and the ticking of the wall clock. He chalked it up to exhaustion, the result of a long work week, and dismissed it. But as the days went on, strange things began to happen. Derek started seeing flashes of unfamiliar places, and he couldn't remember how he got there. He heard whispers in his ear, warning him of a fate worse than death. And then the truth came crashing down on him, one chilling detail at a time. Derek wasn't just a regular guy anymore. He wasn't even the person he thought he was. He had somehow become a time-limited villainess in a world unlike his own—a world he had no idea how he had entered, and one where he no longer had control of his fate. The whispers were from another life, another timeline, where he had made choices that led to the fall of an empire, where he was once the villainess in a story. A villainess who had ruled with cruelty and power. But that wasn't him now, or at least, he didn't want it to be. Yet, the transformation had begun. "You have four months left to live. Four months before your time runs out."
Derek couldn't escape the truth: this was no dream. His body was changing. His emotions were becoming erratic, twisted in a way he couldn't control. He had been given a role to play—a role he had no desire to fulfill. The memories of the villainess he had become in another life were taking over, overwhelming his mind with visions of cruelty and betrayal. He felt himself slipping away from who he had been. The man who loved his family, the man who laughed at dumb jokes with friends, the man who was kind and compassionate—was fading. Instead, he was becoming someone darker, more ruthless. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Derek sought answers. He tried researching the phenomenon, but everything he found only made him more confused. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't make sense of it. But then, he received a letter—a letter that confirmed his worst fears. In this alternate reality, he was the villainess, and the only way he could escape was to fulfill the role he had been given. The letter warned him: if he didn't complete the mission in four months, he would die—his life, erased forever. His heart sank. He looked around at the life he had, at his loving family—the ones who cared for him, the ones who didn't know the truth, the ones who had no idea what he was becoming. Could he really betray them? Could he really fulfill the villainous role he was destined to play?
Derek's family had been his anchor for as long as he could remember. His parents, siblings, and especially his wife, Emma, who was everything he ever dreamed of. She was kind, strong, and full of love. She didn't deserve to have her life shattered by the truth of what Derek was becoming. He had no intention of hurting them, no desire to let the darkness consume him entirely. But the transformation was happening faster than he anticipated. His body was betraying him, changing in ways he couldn't explain. His emotions were becoming colder, and his thoughts were darker. Every time he looked at Emma, a pang of guilt stabbed at his chest. She had no idea what was happening, no idea what he was turning into. But the clock was ticking. The countdown was on, and soon, there would be no escape. He would have to make a choice—either fulfill the villainous role, or watch as everything he loved was destroyed.
Derek knew the only way to survive was to outsmart the very forces that were controlling his fate. He had to find a way to break the cycle, to defy the path laid before him. But how could he possibly change his destiny when the transformation was so powerful? How could he survive when every moment seemed to pull him further into the darkness? As the days went by, he became more determined to protect his family. He couldn't let the villainess take control. He couldn't let the legacy of cruelty destroy everything he held dear. He started looking for answers, desperate to find a loophole, a way to reverse the curse, to stop the clock from ticking. It wasn't easy. The more he resisted, the more powerful the pull became. The memories of his villainous past resurfaced, taunting him, whispering that it was too late to change. But Derek refused to give up. He loved his family, and he would do anything to keep them safe, even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
The message arrived like frost across glass: You have four months left, Derek.He stood in his hallway, every appliance silent, every shadow suddenly attentive.
The next morning, his reflection didn't hold still. For a blink, a woman stared back—opal irises, a crown that wasn't there, a mouth that smiled like a blade. He jerked away.
A plain envelope slid under his front door. No stamp. No seam. Inside: one line written in neat, even hand.
Fulfill the role or forfeit your life.The system will keep time.
Letters swam. He thought of Emma setting two cups on the table, of her soft don't overwork today. Love could anchor a man, but anchors sink as well as hold.
A chill coiled in his ear, not a voice so much as a verdict.
STW NOTICE: HOST PRIMER COMPLETE. GLOBAL COUNTDOWN: 120d starts on first transposition. RULE SEED: "SURVIVE, DON'T DEVOUR." HINT: Name something you refuse to forget.
He held the pen above the envelope and wrote: Emma's laugh on rainy afternoons.
The house exhaled. The floor dropped.
Interlude: First Transposition
Falling wasn't down; it was sideways through lives, through choices he never made but had once almost made. When he hit, it was into velvet and ceremony.
NEW HOST ONLINE: Marielle Vedran ROLE: Duchess / Regency Councilor (public). Usurper-in-waiting (echo). SETTING: Empire of Halix, capital Serentine. LOCAL TIMER: 90 days (Act I) PRIMARY RISK: Court intrigue, moral corruption, assassination attempts. HAZARD: Moderate → High (within 48h) SAFEHOUSE: Claimable (2 candidates)
His body was not his: taller, colder, braided hair heavy with gems. Doors opened before he reached them. Guards bowed. The room smelled of honeyed wine and old oaths.
The Echo pressed like a glove over his thoughts: Power is mercy. Mercy is weakness. Begin the purges.
He inhaled through his nose and let the room catalog itself—exits, eyes, knives that pretended to be smiles.
MICROCHECK: Resist Echo (DC 12) — Resolve 3 + Empathy 4 → SUCCESS. +10 XP: Resisted the Villainess impulse under pressure. XP: 10 / 100 (L1)
A steward waited with a sheaf of orders. "Your Grace, the Council requires your seal on the arrest warrants. Treasoners, the lot."
The first name on the page: A midwife who refused to evacuate a flooded ward. Treason? No. Witness.
If he sealed the warrants, the Echo would quiet. If he refused, the hazard would spike. He felt the timer's invisible claw.
He set the seal down.
"Fetch the Council," he said. "And send a runner to Temple East. I want the midwife safe, and I want the flood records on my desk by dusk."
A tremor ran through the air.
BRANCH CHOSEN: Defy the Purge. HAZARD: +1 tier (High) +15 XP: Protected a Bond-equivalent (civic mercy) under risk. XP: 25 / 100
He claimed a Safehouse two hours later—not a cellar full of gold, but a quiet, neglected reading room in the Palace's oldest wing, where the brick held sun-warmth and the windows faced rain. He stood in the soft light and, for ten beats, heard Emma's laugh.
SAFEHOUSE MARKED: The Old Reading Room, Serentine Palace. Trickle: +1 XP/hr while HAZARD>0 in Act I (cap 8/day). ECHO SUPPRESSION (room): −10%
When he returned to the main hall, the Council was arranged like a row of blades. At their center: Regent Torenne, whose smile never met his eyes.
"Your Grace," Torenne purred. "The empire expects decisiveness."
The Echo reached for his mouth. Be decisive: sign, purge, reshape the world clean.
He laced his fingers behind his back and counted door hinges instead. "Decisiveness without clarity is theater. We'll try governance."
Sneers, soft and practiced. Torenne's fingers made a lazy circle. Guards moved.
Derek measured the space, the speed, the angle of the nearest spear.
He didn't have a weapon. He had a system.
"Guards," he said, voice steady, "would you risk imperial censure to arrest your sovereign without writ?" He raised the very warrant sheet they'd handed him. "These are unsigned."
A ripple of doubt ran through metal and muscle. Torenne's smile thinned.
MICROCHECK: Awareness read + Bluff pivot (DC 13) — Awareness 3 + situational +2 (Council's overconfidence) → SUCCESS. +10 XP: Defused a lethal escalation without violence. XP: 35 / 100
"Regent," Derek said. "Temple East has our flood ledgers. The midwife will testify. If she's a traitor, I'll sign the warrant myself. Until then, stand down."
A messenger burst into the hall, drenched. "Your Grace! A portion of the river wall failed by the Ward of Fennel. Temple East held the choir to the stones. No evacuees died."
Torenne didn't blink. "Accidents have a way of saving the guilty."
Derek smiled in a way that wasn't friendly. "Then we will be guilty of saving more accidents."
The session dissolved into procedure and poisoned pleasantries. He held the center by refusing to perform the part the Echo loved.
That night, the attempt came.
A servant with the wrong shoes—soft street leather, not palace felt—entered his bedchamber. The window latch had a smear of fresh oil. The candle flame drew long as the door closed.
He didn't shout. He shifted left—placing the bedpost between his heart and the dark—then angled toward the dresser mirror to watch the reflection.
The glint he needed was smaller than a coin: a needle cupped in a palm.
"Marielle Vedran," the servant whispered. "From the Council's regards."
Derek moved when the hand moved, not before. The needle drew a shallow line across his sleeve. He slammed the wrist against the bedpost. The needle clinked off stone. The servant stuttered a curse and reached for a second blade.
Derek hooked an ankle behind the servant's and drove them both sideways. The world narrowed to breaths and angles. He used elbow over force, leverage over speed, fear as an instrument but not as food.
The needle found the floorboards. The servant found the wall. Derek found the door latch and his voice.
"Guards."
ENCOUNTER: Assassination attempt (High) CHECKS: Tactics vs. Ambush — SUCCESS. +40 XP: Survived a lethal encounter without lethal force. +5 XP: Secured attacker for testimony instead of killing. XP: 80 / 100 SAFEHOUSE BONUS: +3 XP accrued overnight within marked room. XP: 83 / 100
He sat at the edge of the bed and stared at his uncut wrist, at hands that weren't his and a heartbeat that still was. The Echo hissed nonsense: Crush, silence, erase. He let it hiss. He let it starve.
In the morning, Torenne arrived with a new smile and two hounds. Derek didn't rise.
"The servant sang," Derek said mildly. "He names your factor, Liron of Darnsbridge."
Torenne's jaw worked once. "Liron is a patriot."
"Then he'll enjoy clearing his name before the Senate."
The Regent considered the distance to the door. Considered the guards, who were no longer his. Considered the servant's very public bruises and the not-quite-veiled threat of process.
He bowed, deeply enough to register but shallow enough to insult. "As Your Grace wishes."
Derek's hands didn't shake until the door closed.
MILESTONE: Secured due process in a corrupt court. +20 XP (Truth Found + Social Survival) LEVEL UP → L2 (103 / 200 total) Perk Point +1
He opened the STW panel with a thought.
Available Perks:— Anchor Memory I (cost 1)— Lucid Override I (cost 1)— Thread-Sight I (cost 1)— Safehouse Mark (already taken for this life; portable form costs 2)— Backstep (10s) (cost 2)
He didn't hesitate.
Pick: Anchor Memory I. If the system wanted to sand him down into something sharp and empty, then memory would be his edge.
A thin, clean light lanced through his chest and settled over a single image: Emma in a yellow sweater, sunlight on her cheek, rain in the window behind her, the huff of her laugh when he ruined pancake flips.
PERK ACQUIRED: Anchor Memory I — "Emma's rainy-day laugh" ECHO EROSION RESIST: +15% (global)
He exhaled. The day moved again.