I wasn't very lucky in this life. Of all the people in the world—of the hundreds of babies being born—fate pointed its finger at me. I was given a rare disease that turned sunlight into venom. My body lacked the repair mechanism needed to fix DNA damage caused by ultraviolet rays, and exposure to the sun led to severe burns and blistering.
As if that wasn't enough, even with strict sunlight avoidance, a torturous and short life still awaited. The absence of that repair mechanism meant that even simple metabolic processes placed immense stress on my body.
Mine has finally come to an end.
I won't tell you a detailed account of my physical suffering. I don't want your pity. I was not a victim, conquered—I was a runner who had finished my race.
Many times, I wondered why the heavens were so rough on me. Was I a terrible person in my past life? Eventually, I came to believe that perhaps there was no arbiter in all of this—no mysterious being in the sky dictating destiny. I got my share purely by chance. That realization was, oddly, a small comfort.
But that also meant no afterlife. No heaven to reward me for bravely enduring. Some supposedly get virgins, others a crown and a mansion, while others are reborn into magical worlds as the sons of rich families or blessed with overpowered LitRPG systems—sometimes both. I would've loved the third option, though it was also the most ridiculous.
I had long made peace with that. Eternal rest—returning to nonexistence—was a fair consolation. At least there would be no more pain. No more glancing out the window, dreaming of how it would feel to have grass beneath my feet and a gentle sun above me. No more watching flowers delivered to my bedside only to see them slowly wither. My parents would no longer have to pretend everything was alright.
So, that's what I'm… what I'm saying.
It's a bit odd, though. It's been a while since I heard the machine flatline. I've been stuck in this state where all I could do was think. Everything else was blank. It wasn't uncomfortable or suffocating—just… confusing.
Maybe it was some sort of transition between life and death—something you'd have to die to experience. It was, after all, my first time dying, so—
"Wake up, your highness!"
I heard a voice out of nowhere. Even stranger, it woke me up from what felt like a long sleep.
Something wet and cold slapped me across the face. My eyes shot open as I coughed out some of the water that had entered my mouth. I was no longer in my room. If I could believe what I was seeing, I was inside some kind of cell. The rough stone bricks and torches on the wall gave it the aesthetic of a medieval dungeon.
Completing the scene were two men dressed like knights, clad in full plate armor with swords sheathed at their waists. I was kneeling on the cold stone floor, looking up at them as they grinned down at me mockingly.
Then I noticed the dull throb in my wrists. My hands were stretched out, chained to the wall.
"The day of your punishment has come, Frans van der Wald," said the older knight—the same one who had splashed me with water. "And guess what our Lord Cornelis has planned for your execution?"
My eyes widened at the mention of those names. Especially the first one. I knew it all too well—it was my name. I was Frans van der Wald, if the strange new memories floating in my head were to be believed.
And it just got more ridiculous from there. Not only was I in another man's body, in another world, but this man wasn't even human. Frans was a vampire lord—with a castle, an undead army, and everything—until he was betrayed and captured.
This was the kind of storyline I'd read in countless cheesy web novels. The only difference was that I was experiencing it firsthand—and I wasn't sure if I was the protagonist, the villain, or just a soon-to-be corpse.
The chains were made of silver. That explained the faint burning sensation at my wrists. They suppressed the vampiric powers that would've let me kill these two easily.
It was the younger knight who answered his companion's question.
"We won't burn you, because you're scum—and you're not even worth the firewood. We won't stab you with a silver sword either, because that's too cliché. Instead, we're just going to drag you outside and let the sun do the work."
I swallowed hard as the cruelty of my situation dawned on me. After nineteen years of earthly existence suffering a disease that would kill me under the sun… I had been reincarnated as a vampire. God must be having a laugh. Was He angry that I didn't believe in Him?
Before long, the knights unchained me from the wall and began dragging me out of the cell. We emerged into a dim corridor, sunlight visible at the far end.
"No, no, no… you're mistaken! I'm human!" I blurted out in desperation. I didn't even need direct sunlight to suffer—scattered light was enough to do the job.
The both of them laughed.
"If you were human, why are you so scared of the sun then?" the older knight taunted.
There was no way on earth they'd believe me. This world seemed stuck in the medieval age. If I told them about Xeroderma Pigmentosum, they'd think it a demonic spell.
"Good people of Fallow! The vampire lord who has been a thorn in our side for decades is about to meet justice! Proof that righteousness prevails, and that the gods are on our side!"
I heard that familiar voice—it was Lord Cornelis de Villers, the lord of Fallow. His proclamation was met with cheers and applause from what sounded like thousands. They were dragging me to an arena.
"Please, I beg you! I'm not Frans! I'm human! I'm Patrice Montgomery of Mobile, Alabama! I hate blood—I get dizzy just looking at it! I'd make a terrible vampire!" I pleaded, my boots skidding across the floor as the silver chains sapped my strength.
Predictably, the knights only found it amusing.
"You really are a demon—you can't even meet your end with dignity! And to think you were so defiant all this time," the younger knight sneered before kicking me in the stomach with his steel boots. I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
"Any last words?"
We finally stopped. Direct sunlight waited just a step away. Every part of me trembled. I could already see the sand of the pit glowing gold under the sun and the circular walls of the arena beyond.
"Please welcome Frans van der Wald, Lord of the Crimson Woods!" Lord Cornelis shouted. The crowd erupted in a deafening roar.
I yelped involuntarily as the knight tugged on the chain. For the first time in my life, I felt the sun on my skin. I winced at its brightness—it was unlike any artificial light.
I caught sight of Lord Cornelis—a fat man who couldn't mount his horse without help, much less fight his own battles.
Then I saw the cheering crowd pelting me with whatever they could grab, shouting insults.
The Frans in me seethed at their mockery. The Patrice in me was simply horrified—utterly terrified, waiting for my skin to burst into flames.
They dragged me toward the center, but before we got there, I noticed something strange. I wasn't… suffering. The silver still burned my wrists, and my gut still ached from the kick, but beyond that—nothing.
The crowd noticed too. The cheers faded into murmurs of confusion. The knights stared at me, their expressions twisted with disbelief.
Then, as if on cue, the familiar blue boxes I'd seen in countless web novels popped up before my eyes with a soft ding.
[You have been rewarded for your valiant effort, Patrice Montgomery.]
[You have been bestowed the "Solar Absorption System."]
[The sun will no longer harm you—but henceforth, will be your source of strength.]