Death came quickly for Ryūnosuke Akutagawa.
A scream. Headlights like twin suns in the downpour. A blaring truck horn. Instinct moved his body before his mind could catch up — shoving a young boy out of harm's way just as death swallowed him whole.
A fool's death, maybe. But not a coward's.
And then… he opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was the cold ceiling above him — rough-hewn stone, unfamiliar, and stained with age. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and something faintly metallic.
A reflection caught his eye from a cracked mirror leaning against the wall. He turned his head.
Blood-red irises stared back. Black, messy hair hung over a gaunt face. Faintly pointed canines. And worse — small, curved black horns poking through his temples.
Then came the flood. Memories that weren't his own. Names. Maps. Faces he'd never seen. The rise and fall of kings. The rules of sword and spell. A world built on music and battle.
And one terrifying truth settled over him like a shroud:
This wasn't some random fantasy world.
It was his.
The one he'd created, twenty years ago, in the scribbled pages of an old notebook. A sprawling, unfinished fantasy epic called Song of Demon, a world where music shaped magic, where kingdoms clashed and ancient gods played their endless games.
It had never been published. Hell, he'd barely finished it. Life had gotten in the way — exams, jobs, heartbreak, the steady erosion of dreams.
And now, by some cruel twist of fate, he'd been reborn inside it.
Not as the hero. Not as a king. Not as a chosen one. But as Leonidas Greyrat — a half-demon combat instructor, a minor character meant to die before the first act even finished. A nameless corpse on a page no one would remember.
Unless he did something about it.
In the Orpheus Realm, every soul was born under the blessing of Orpheus, God of Harmony. At adolescence, people awakened their Spirit — a weapon, instrument, or artifact that let them channel music into magic and combat arts.
To be without one was blasphemy.
Demons, by nature, had none.
By law, they were to be executed on sight. No exceptions. No mercy.
Leonidas Greyrat, born of demon blood, had spent his life gambling with every breath he took. And now Ryūnosuke — Leonidas — would have to do the same.
He sat before the cracked mirror, studying the face that was now his. The inherited memories confirmed what he feared: the Academy's annual Spirit summoning was only weeks away. Without a Spirit, he was finished.
He had only one option.
Deception.
With a steady hand, he gripped one of his horns and twisted. The pain was instant, searing white and sharp as a sword's edge. But necessary.
Then the other.
Blood slicked his fingers as he laid the curved black horns on the table. Using a whetstone and file, he shaped them into twin, double-edged daggers — cruel, gleaming things, faintly curved like fangs.
Most Spirit weapons took on deeply personal forms. No one would question a pair of crimson-glowing knives unless they tried to test them for resonance. He'd fake it. He'd have to.
He opened his system window — a feature he remembered inventing as a teenager, long ago:
> Name: Leonidas Greyrat
Race: Half-Demon
Level: 53
EXP: 8,850 / 19,000
Attributes:
STR: 162 | DEX: 148 | INT: 130 | VIT: 140 | CHA: 101 | LUK: 86
Spirit: None
The numbers weren't terrible, at least.
In his world's rules, stats only increased through leveling or intense training. No passive bonuses. No idle gains. No random drops or overpowered blessings. EXP was earned the hard way — by hunting monsters, completing quests, or downing rare EXP Elixirs.
There were no shortcuts here.
His only advantage was knowledge.
He knew the world's events, the monsters' weaknesses, the dungeons left undisturbed. He knew that Leonidas was fated to die two years from now, sacrificing himself for a young half-demon girl whose identity would be exposed during a crisis at the Academy.
But Ryūnosuke — Leonidas — had two years before that day arrived.
And he intended to survive.
Clutching his makeshift weapons, his horns reborn as blades, he made a silent vow: to rise through the ranks, to train harder than anyone else, to hunt by night and quest under false names. To scrape together enough coin for EXP Elixirs. To level up the hard way.
To rewrite his story.
The next morning, Leonidas stood at the gates of Orpheus Royal Academy. A sprawling citadel of white stone towers and silver spires that gleamed in the morning light. The courtyard was alive with students and staff, their weapons glittering: flute-sabers, drum-shields, violin-scimitars, even colossal piano polearms.
He had written every stone of this place, every character, every rule. Now it stood before him, terrifying in its reality.
Today was his interview.
According to the memories, Leonidas had been offered a minor post as a Combat Tactics Instructor for first-years. A small, respectable position.
And one he would claim.
Inside the Headmaster's chamber, three faculty members waited.
Headmaster Magellan, a veteran war-mage with long silver hair and crimson eyes sharp as daggers.
Instructor Celeste, a harp-greatsword wielder whose presence could choke a room.
And Maestro Victor, a violin-staff battlemage, his expression unreadable.
The air was heavy as stone.
"Leonidas Greyrat," Magellan spoke, voice cold iron. "State your claim."
He bowed. "Leonidas Greyrat. Specialist in adaptive combat tactics and battlefield instruction."
A curt nod.
"Summon your Spirit," Celeste ordered.
His heartbeat thundered. His palm closed around the horn-knives. He focused, channeling mana through them. A faint red glow shimmered to life — dimmer than a true Spirit's radiance, but enough.
He prayed it would be.
A long pause.
The three exchanged glances.
"Accepted," Magellan declared.
A system chime echoed in his mind.
> Quest Complete: Secure a Teaching Position at Orpheus Royal Academy
Reward: 1,200 EXP
That evening, Leonidas sat alone in his quarters — a spartan room of stone walls, a single bed, a desk, and a window overlooking the city's distant lights.
On the table lay his new weapons.
He checked his status.
> EXP: 10,050 / 19,000
8,950 to go.
He did the math. Mid-rank monsters yielded 300-500 EXP. Rare quests gave 800-1,500. An EXP Elixir granted a flat 3,000 — if you could even find one. He'd need to grind carefully, strategically.
No protagonist's blessing here.
Just grit, guile, and the fractured knowledge of a half-forgotten story.
Tomorrow, he would begin teaching.
And when the first chords of the old plotline finally sounded, two years from now, Leonidas Greyrat wouldn't be a doomed extra.
He'd be a demon worthy of legend.
He gripped his daggers.
"I won't die like a side character."
Not this time.