The library of House Valtor stood at the far end of the east wing — a silent cathedral of dust and forgotten wisdom.
When I pushed open the heavy oak door, it groaned like it hadn't been opened in weeks. Shelves rose like walls, lined with thick tomes sealed in gold and dust. The air smelled of ink and old paper.
The librarian, an old man with silver hair, lifted his head slowly.
"Lord Kael?" His voice trembled slightly. "I didn't expect you here so early. Have you… come to study?"
Study.
That word almost made me laugh. In the game, Kael Valtor wasn't known for studying — he was known for arrogance, scandal, and a body count of broken reputations.
Still, I nodded. "Yes. Something like that."
The man smiled politely, clearly relieved. Maybe he thought I'd changed. Maybe he thought this was my redemption arc.
Cute.
I wandered deeper into the hall, dragging my fingers across spines of books older than most kingdoms.
Truth is, I didn't remember much about this world.
I had played this game years ago — half-asleep, half-drunk on energy drinks. I never even finished it. I only remembered this face — Kael's face — because I once wished I looked as cool as him.
And now here I was. Inside the face.
"Let's start from zero," I whispered.
The World Unfolds
One by one, I pulled books from the shelves — history, politics, maps.
Apparently, this world wasn't a mess of random kingdoms like most fantasy settings. It had structure. A single Emperor, ruling from the heart of the continent.
Below him, three Duke families who held enough land and army to challenge each other but not the throne.
The rest were nobles: marquises, counts, viscounts, barons — all clinging to the scraps left by the three dukes.
We — House Valtor — were one of those three.
I leaned back against the table, smirking.
"So I'm not just some villain. I'm royalty with bad PR."
That made things easier.
But something else caught my eye — a thick black book titled 'Dungeons and Disasters of the Old Era.'
When I opened it, the drawings were ugly but alive: endless tunnels, ancient beasts, and ruins swallowed by the dark.
And then, one word struck me like a slap.
Parelleso.
The text described it as "the living labyrinth, a wound in the world that refuses to heal."
The most dangerous dungeon known.
Hundreds of explorers had entered it.
Only one ever made it out — half-dead, blind, and insane.
A memory clicked in my head.
In the game, Parelleso was meant to be the hero's proving ground — a place where he earned his "divine blessing" and killed monsters born of sin itself.
Back then, it was just a cool cutscene to me.
Now, it was an opportunity.
The Villain's Turn
"So the hero wants Parelleso, huh?" I muttered. "Then I'll take it first."
The librarian peeked up from his desk, startled, but I didn't explain. I closed the book and stared at the crest of House Valtor carved on the cover — the black dragon devouring its own tail.
I was the duke's son.
Even if I burned an academy or punched a noble, people would still bow. They'd talk behind my back, sure — but no one would stop me.
If I, the 'mad son,' entered Parelleso and survived...
That alone would make the world shut up.
And if I brought something out of it — power, treasure, truth — the hero's story would crumble before it even began.
But to survive Parelleso, I needed control over this body — the strength magic hidden inside it.
That meant training. Real training. Not nobles swinging sticks in gardens.
The kind that broke bones and rebuilt monsters.
I placed the dungeon book back on the shelf, turned to the librarian, and gave him a faint smile.
"Keep this section ready for me," I said. "I'll be coming here often."
He nodded quickly, bowing. "Of course, Lord Kael."
As I stepped out of the library, sunlight sliced through the corridor windows, falling across my hand.
The same hand that once broke bones in a cage.
The same hand that now belonged to a villain.
"This time," I whispered, flexing my fingers, "I'll make the story mine."
And somewhere deep inside my chest — something pulsed.
A faint, rhythmic echo.
Not just a heartbeat.
Something else.
Something strong trying to wake up.