Marquel ground his teeth, cursing the author of "The Empress Has Died" in the comments section. He hadn't even noticed that each chapter had only one view. His already foul mood was worsened by his unjust dismissal. Framed for a crime he didn't commit, the ending of his most anticipated novel was so terrible it made him want to throw his phone. After posting a scathing comment about the ending, he started to shower, only to receive a message from the novel's author: "Then could you change the Empress's fate?"
Veins throbbing in his forehead, Marquel, still seething, replied. He had just begun showering when the author responded: "Yes, I can." He didn't wait for a further response.
Marquel's apartment, while not spotless, was comfortable. He showered and relaxed in the tub until a sudden, agonizing headache struck. It felt like a knife twisting in his brain.
"Damn it," he muttered, his vision blurring. "Not only did I lose my job, but my favorite novel ends with that?"
His heart skipped a beat. Darkness enveloped him. After what felt like a long time, the pain returned, though less intense. A torrent of information flooded his mind – overwhelming, instantaneous.
Before he could process it, a cold, detached voice echoed in his ear. He looked up, kneeling.
"The Empress?!" he thought, a shiver running down his spine.
Before him sat a woman of breathtaking beauty. Her piercing red eyes, her red hair swept back to reveal a flawless neck, and her striking red and black dress accentuated her mature figure.
"State your name," she commanded, her voice like glacial ice.
She sat on a red throne, calm and impassive, in a lavish chamber. Dragon-adorned pillars and a smooth, though uneven, floor completed the scene.
Stuttering, he whispered, "M-Marquel, my Lady." He looked down; his knees were raw and bleeding from kneeling.
The Empress nodded, then gestured for him to leave. He struggled to his feet, his knee throbbing, his head still spinning.
She turned her attention back to a letter detailing a royal banquet.
As the influx of information settled, Marquel pieced together his new reality. His name remained Marquel, but he was now a secondary character in the novel.
He sighed and sat down in his new room: small, containing only a bed and a desk.
"That author… he wasn't joking," he muttered, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "The Empress's servants usually die; poisoning or attempted murder are practically occupational hazards."
He found a mirror, examining his reflection. Not handsome, but presentable, with black eyes and shoulder-length black hair. He learned of his past: abandoned as a child for a few gold coins, he became a slave, now tasked with poisoning the Empress.
He sighed. If he could cultivate sufficient power, perhaps he could alter the tragic ending, even if the Empress was portrayed as the antagonist. Her actions, however, stemmed from necessity, not malice.
She sacrificed herself to kill Azoth, the God of Destruction, who possessed the main character's body, ultimately saving the world at a terrible cost: millions of lives and the happiness of the main heroines.