Everything was supposed to be easy.
That was the unspoken promise of the so-called Transmigration Starter Pack, wasn't it?
Wealthy noble family? Check✓.
Blessed genetics and handsome face? Check✓.
Full knowledge of the plot from the hit anime Shattered Crown? Double-check✓✓.
Neo Draven had woken up in this world with the kind of advantages most reincarnators would kill for.
Eldest son of Duke Draven.
Future head of one of the strongest dukedoms in the empire.
Born into silk sheets and golden chandeliers.
In the original anime, Neo Draven was nothing more than a stepping stone. A third-rate villain who got in the Hero's way, sneered once or twice, and then died pathetically in the first arc.
A sacrificial lamb.
A plot device.
A name forgotten by episode four.
But this Neo?
He refused to be a statistic.
***
The sound of steel clashing echoed across the training yard.
Clang! Clang!
Sweat rolled down his neck as he parried another strike from his instructor. Years had passed since his rebirth. Years of grinding, planning, calculating every possible death flag.
"Again," Neo said, breath steady.
The instructor blinked. "My lord, you've already—"
"Again."
Clang!
If the plot wanted him dead, it would have to try harder.
He avoided the Hero's circle.
He neutralized shady nobles before they could betray him.
He maneuvered politically like a chess master who already knew the opponent's next ten moves.
And when people whispered that Duke Draven's eldest son was unusually sharp for his age?
Neo only smiled.
Of course he was. He had watched this world burn once before—through a screen.
He thought he was winning.
He thought he had outsmarted destiny.
He thought he had even rewritten fate.
But unfortunately.
He just forgot one thing.
Never.
Ever.
Mess with the Final Villainess.
In the original story, Nora Valentina—the Silver-Haired Reaper—was a distant, terrifying existence. A genius mage with violet eyes colder than winter frost. She stood alone at the top, feared by all.
And in the final arc, she burned the kingdom to ashes before the Hero defeated her in a tragic, dramatic showdown.
That was her role.
Cold. Untouchable. Doomed.
But life… life doesn't follow scripts when you poke at them.
***
The present:
The air smelled of crushed lilies and expensive incense.
Sweet.
Overwhelming.
Suffocating.
Neo's head throbbed.
Thump. Thump.
Like a war drum inside his skull.
His limbs refused to move. High-level paralysis magic—clean, precise, merciless.
He tried to lift his arm.
Nothing.
A soft rustle of fabric.
A whisper of silk.
Then—
A curtain of shimmering silver hair fell over his face.
Cool. Silky. Fragrant like winter snow.
His breath hitched.
Above him hovered the most beautiful face in the empire.
And the most terrifying.
Nora's violet eyes weren't calm anymore.
They swirled.
Like a galaxy collapsing in on itself.
Like something sacred breaking.
Her hands wrapped around his throat—not tight enough to kill, but firm enough to remind him who held power.
"Neo," she whispered.
Her voice was velvet over ice.
"Did you really think the borders of the Dukedom were far enough?"
His pulse spiked.
"Nora… listen—"
His voice cracked.
Her grip tightened slightly.
Not enough to choke.
Just enough to hurt.
"I gave you everything," she murmured, tilting her head. Her silver strands brushed against his cheek. "I cleared your path. I removed every annoyance. Every obstacle."
Her thumb traced his jaw.
Slowly.
Possessively.
"And in return?"
Her smile trembled.
"You tried to sacrifice yourself."
He forced a breath. "I wasn't running. I was trying to stop the war. If I died, the Empire would—"
"Shh."
Her thumb pressed gently against his lips.
Silencing him.
The room felt smaller.
The air colder.
"You shouldn't have dared to leave me, Neo," she whispered. Her voice broke for just a second—barely noticeable. "Not after you made me love you."
Love.
The word didn't sound sweet.
It sounded like a curse.
His heart pounded wildly.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
This wasn't how the story went.
He wasn't the protagonist.
He wasn't the Hero.
He was—
He was the prize.
Nora leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching. Her violet eyes glistened—not with tears, but with something far more dangerous.
Devotion.
Obsession.
Desperation.
"You saved me," she said softly. "You stood in front of the whole world for me. Do you know what that does to someone who has never been chosen?"
Her fingers tightened around his throat.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispered, almost pleading. "You're mine, Neo. The world can burn. The Empire can fall. I don't care."
A faint metallic sound echoed in the quiet room.
Shing—
A dagger slid free from beneath her sleeve.
Its blade gleamed under candlelight.
Neo's eyes widened.
"Nora… you don't have to—"
Her smile was heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Rather than sacrificing yourself for a world that would abandon you…"
She leaned down, her breath brushing against his lips.
"Let's die."
Her eyes softened.
"Together."
The dagger swung down—
—and darkness swallowed everything.
—End of Prologue.