Damien thought his life was over and yet when he became aware of himself again, he was drifting through a dark and empty space.
For a moment, he couldn't make sense of anything.
His thoughts were scattered and whenever he tried to remember what had happened, he lost track before he could finish.
He didn't know how much time passed before his mind began to clear.
Where am I…? Is this the afterlife?
He looked around, hoping to find something that might give him an answer but there was no ground beneath his feet, no ceiling above him and nothing in the distance.
He couldn't even tell if he was moving.
But how am I still thinking? Death is supposed to be the end, right?
He looked down at himself. He could still make out his body, though he had no idea how he could see it in the darkness.
Then he noticed his fingers, their tips had turned black. As he watched, the color spread slowly over his hands, making them harder to differentiate from the space around him.
"Fuck… What the hell is happening now?"
He tried to move his fingers and they responded but he could barely feel them. The same darkness was moving up his feet, swallowing more of his body with every passing moment.
He looked around again, more urgently this time.
But before he could think of anything, he felt a faint pull as his body shifted slightly through the void.
At first, the feeling was so weak that he wondered if he had imagined it, but it soon grew strong enough to drag him forward. Damien instinctively tried to pull back but then he looked at his hands again.
"I guess anything is better than waiting here."
He stopped resisting and let the pull carry him.
His speed increased until he could no longer tell which way he was facing. Somewhere ahead, a small light appeared.
He fixed his attention on it as it grew larger and brighter and soon, it filled his vision, forcing him to close his eyes.
The moment he entered the light, the void trembled.
The darkness twisted around the place where he had vanished, as if the empty space itself was starting to collapse.
Right on cue, an ancient voice echoed through it. It was impossible to tell if it belonged to a man or a woman.
"You're here at last… the chosen one."
But Damien had already passed through the light. He heard nothing and the voice soon faded into the silence.
***
When Damien opened his eyes, the brightness made them sting immediately. He tried to shield his face but the moment he moved, an incredible amount of pain shot through his body.
A groan escaped him as he curled up, unable to understand why even breathing hurt like he had been stomped by elephants.
There was something hard beneath his cheek.
Through his blurred vision, he could make out a floor and someone standing close by. He barely had any time to notice the foot moving toward him as a kick struck the side of his head, snapping it sideways.
His vision shook and whatever strength he had left drained out of him. As he started to lose consciousness, a voice spoke above him.
"Throw him in his room."
The contempt in those words was the last thing Damien heard before darkness engulfed him for the second time.
***
Inside a spacious room, a black-haired boy lay on a bed far too large for his frail body. Bruises covered his skin and both arms rested at unnatural angles. His breathing was shallow, each breath pulling painfully at his injured chest.
After some time, his eyelids stirred slightly as crimson eyes opened and moved slowly around the room.
He looked at the ceiling, then at the curtains hanging beside the bed, unable to recognize either.
Where am I?
His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember.
Who… am I?
For a few moments, even his own name wouldn't come to him but then he remembered the computer screen and the pain in his back.
Damien. His name was Damien.
He tried to sit up but a sharp pain forced him back onto the mattress. So, he stayed still, breathing through his clenched teeth until the pain eased up enough for him to look down at himself.
His arms were thin, bruised and badly swollen but more importantly, they looked nothing like the arms he once remembered.
Wasn't I dead?
He looked at his unfamiliar hands, trying to put his thoughts in order.
There was that strange void… My body started turning black, and then something pulled me toward a light.
He also remembered waking up somewhere else, though all he could recall clearly was the pain and the kick that followed.
But before he could make sense of it, the door swung open and a girl entered, drawing his attention at once. Her dark red hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders and her crimson eyes met his for a moment as she walked towards the bed.
She was beautiful and there was a certain elegance in her movements that made Damien feel even more out of place but her expression gave him no clue as to why she had come.
Without saying anything, she held out a small glass vial filled with deep blue liquid.
Damien looked at the vial and then at her face, not understanding what he was expected to do here. When he failed to take it, she put it beside his hand.
"Um…"
He had so many questions that he didn't know where to begin but the girl turned before he could settle on one. She walked out of the room without a word, closing the door behind her.
"What the hell was that all about?" He muttered.
He waited, half expecting her to return but wen she didn't, he lowered his gaze to the vial lying beside him.
Am I supposed to drink this?
He was still looking at the blue liquid when a sudden pain struck his head.
"Uarghhhhh!"
His body jerked against the mattress. He tried to raise his hands to his head but his injured arms barely moved.
"Make it stop… please…!"
Memories forced their way into his mind before he could understand what he was seeing.
He saw people he had never met and places he had never visited. He remembered walking through the halls outside this room, voices calling to him, the faces that went with them and more importantly, the fear he felt whenever certain people came near.
None of it belonged to Damien.
But he could feel every moment as if he had lived through it himself. He couldn't shut the memories out and whenever one ended, another began, giving him no time whatsoever to separate them from his own.
By the time the pain finally eased, his throat hurt from screaming as he lay still for a while, his face damp with sweat but when he opened his eyes again, the room no longer felt unfamiliar.
He knew where the door opened to, he knew what was kept in the drawers beside the bed and even the curtains were something he remembered seeing every morning.
He was still struggling with that thought when the door opened again and this time, a boy entered.
He had red hair and crimson eyes, and his features had a clear resemblance to the girl who had brought the vial.
The moment Damien saw him, his body stiffened. He lowered his eyes before he could stop himself. He knew he should look up, but the thought of meeting the boy's gaze made his stomach twist.
The boy noticed as a small smirk appeared on his face.
"Aren't you going to greet your dear older brother?"
His voice was soft but Damien felt his fingers curl against the bedsheet.
"Hello… brother."
The words came out on their own as the boy chuckled and looked over his injuries.
"Wow. Looks like Cedric really went all out on you, huh?" His gaze lingered on Damien's arms and his smile widened. "You see, stains like you are meant to be wiped out sooner or later. So why don't you just give up? Make it easy."
Damien opened his mouth.
He wanted to ask what the hell was wrong with him, but the words wouldn't come.
"I… I…"
The boy watched him struggle, clearly enjoying it.
"Well, anyway, don't get too comfortable. Your time's borrowed, after all." He turned toward the door, then looked back with a mocking grin. "So enjoy it… Alden."
Only after the door closed did Damien realize how tightly he had been holding his breath as he let it out slowly. His fingers were still clenched around the bedsheet and he couldn't quite make them stop trembling.
The fear hadn't come from him. It belonged to the boy whose memories now filled his head.
Alden.
The name should have meant nothing to him but instead, hearing it felt as natural as hearing his own.
He understood now.
This room, this injured body, even the fear that had kept him from speaking, all of it belonged to Alden Draven, an illegitimate son of the Draven family.
The boy who had just left was Rodrick Draven, his half-brother.
But that wasn't the real problem.
Wait… No. Don't tell me…
The family name, Rodrick and the way they treated Alden all matched with the story he had read. His heartbeat quickened as the realization crashed down on him.
Damn it… I transmigrated into my favorite novel.
He might have been happy about it under different circumstances but he remembered what happened to Alden Draven.
He was an extra who died in the early chapters.
"Fucking hell…"