"It looked like a cruel and very unfunny joke."
When I opened my eyes, I woke up in a completely different place. I wasn't in my soft bed, but on something cold. It felt like a marble floor. When I tried to move, a sharp pain shot through my back. My head was spinning, and everything was blurry. This was not my home. It wasn't even a hospital.
I sat in an armchair and looked ahead. There was a desk in front of me with nothing extra on it. Just a stack of papers and a silver pen. No half-finished coffee, no phone, no cookie crumbs.
The room was so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat. It sounded strange.
"Where am I?.."
I looked around. The room was huge and frighteningly clean. The walls were made of dark stone, and the tall bookshelves held books that were perfectly aligned, as if they had been glued there with a ruler. A large grandfather clock ticked in the corner.
Then, I looked at my hands. They were long and bony. My skin was pale. I was wearing a black jacket buttoned all the way up to my chin. The collar pressed against my throat, making it hard to breathe.
My gaze caught a mirror in the corner. I walked over and looked at my reflection. A stranger looked back at me: sharp cheekbones, a pale face, and eyes the color of gold. There was no emotion in them at all.
Suddenly, memories rushed into my mind like a movie.
Morgan Vane. A student at Pallion Academy and a Disciplinary Inquisitor appointed by the State. Born into an aristocratic family, he was sent to the Academy after disappointing his father. His family just wanted him gone. Moreover, he was a complete psychopath.
"Damn it... I've become a game character,"
Morgan Vane was the worst character in the history of the game "Hero's Verdict." Everyone hated him because of his personality. A glowing blue screen appeared in the air over my reflection:
[Name: Morgan Vane]
[Title: Disciplinary Inquisitor]
Below that was a list of traits that made my blood run cold. These were the settings that turned Morgan into a living nightmare:
[Aesthetic Tyranny]: The world around you must be perfect. Any mess or lack of symmetry causes you physical nausea and uncontrollable rage.
[Misogyny]: You despise women, seeing them as a source of emotional chaos. You feel a need to suppress any sign of their free will.
[Acoustic Sadism]: You cannot stand extra noise. Shaky breathing, screaming, or crying is "noise" that must be silenced at all costs.
[Sterile Contact]: Touching another living being feels like plunging your hand into a trash pit. You feel their sweat, their warmth, and their "dirt."
I was trapped in the body of a creature incapable of pity. Morgan Vane wasn't a villain who wanted to take over the world; he was a man who wanted the world to be quiet, still, and odorless.
[WARNING: Critical Sync Error]
[Status: DEATH (Cancelled by user?)]
[Mana Level: 1%]
I stepped back, but the system window followed my gaze.
"Death cancelled?"
That line flashed before my eyes.
I looked at the desk. Among the papers sat an empty ink bottle. But instead of ink, there were traces of a clear, thick liquid. When I touched the bottle, a notification appeared:
[Object: Empty Bottle]
[Name: "The Last Breath"]
[Description: A magic poison that causes instant heart failure. It leaves no trace.]
Someone really wanted Morgan Vane to die today. And judging by the state of my body, they almost succeeded. The realization that I had woken up in the body of a dying man hit me even harder.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door. To my new ears, the sound was like a hammer hitting an anvil.
"Mr. Vane?"
A woman's voice called.
"The Vice Principal is calling you for an emergency meeting regarding... the incident in the West Wing."
In an instant, something inside me snapped. The [Acoustic Sadism] trait caused a sharp pain in my temples. That voice... it was too high.
It scratched at my mind like a nail on glass. A look of disgust crossed my face.
"One second,"
I barely recognized my own voice. It was dry and lifeless.
I put on white gloves and forced myself to walk to the door. Then, fixed my high collar to hide my pale neck. I turned the key, and the door creaked open.
Elara Weiss, Morgan's assistant, was standing on the threshold. She was holding a folder of reports to her chest. Her red hair was tied back, but a few strands had escaped and touched her cheek. A status window flashed above her head:
[Name: Elara Weiss]
[Loyalty: -95/100 (Absolute Despair)]
[Current Thought: "Why are you still breathing?"]
Elara narrowed her eyes, studying my face. Her gaze lingered on my lips, which were likely still a bit blue.
"You kept us waiting, Mr. Morgan,"
I felt rage boiling inside me. [Misogyny] whispered that this creature had no right to speak to me in such a tone. Instead of answering, I stepped closer. Seeing how close I was, Elara took a step back.
But I didn't stop. My body, moving almost on its own, raised a hand.
Slap.
A short, quick slap. It wasn't very hard, but it was humiliating. Elara's head jerked to the side, and that red strand of hair finally fell over her eyes.
"Your collar is crooked, Elara. And your tone... it's too high."
"Sir..."
Elara exhaled, and I could hear suppressed anger in her voice.
"Fix your hair. You look untidy. Women in this Academy always bring too much chaos."
I pulled the glove off my right hand as if it had been soiled by something disgusting and threw it on the floor.
"Cane."
Trembling slightly, Elara picked up the glove and placed a heavy cane into my palm. When our fingers touched for a brief second, a message flashed before my eyes:
[Active Spell Detected: "Watcher's Mark"]
So, someone was watching me through her. And that "someone" clearly didn't expect me to be able to get out of my chair at all.
"Let's go, Elara."
I turned and walked down the hall. The corridors of Pallion Academy met me with silence. As soon as we entered the central hall, everything changed. When the students saw me, they literally pressed themselves into the walls. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. A group of freshmen, who had been laughing a moment ago, instantly snapped to attention.
[Violation Detected: Dress Code (buttons not per regulations)]
[Violation Detected: Possession of Banned Literature (student's bag on the right)]
Notifications popped up, telling me I should punish these rule-breakers.
I ignored them, since I had no mana and no desire to waste time on unbuttoned clothes while poison was still in my blood. Every step was painful. I felt the "Watcher's Mark" on my hand begin to tingle uncomfortably. Someone on the other end was listening very closely.
"You are unusually quiet today,"
Elara's voice cut through the silence from half a step behind me.
"Usually, you've handed out at least three penalties by now."
"I am saving my strength."
We turned toward the administration building. Protective runes pulsed on the walls. Two guards stood by the heavy doors of the Vice Principal office—steel golems whose empty eyes flashed blue as they scanned me.
[Identification: Morgan Vane]
[Access: Granted]
Elara stepped forward to open the door, but I stopped her. I placed my hand over hers, right on the handle. She flinched.
"Elara,"
I whispered, leaning close to her ear.
"Next time you decide to bring me tea or ink... make sure they don't smell like death. It ruins my appetite."
Her pupils dilated with terror. She didn't answer; she only swallowed hard. I stepped away and pushed the door open.