I held my breath as I flipped through the final page of the unknown fantasy book.
The book—titled "The Chronicles of the Failed Hero"—followed the rise of a boy who became strong enough for even gods to fear, guided by a mysterious system that gave him quests, rewards, and unimaginable power.
But the system wasn't what captivated me.
It was the world.
The attention to detail was insane.
The world-building, the cultures, the characters—every single person had depth. They weren't meaningless extras orbiting the protagonist. They had backstories, ambitions, heartbreaks… lives.
The world, Novacter, was built with magic, swords, academies, awakened individuals, nobles, races, and—above all—the Tower.
At sixteen, every person received a chance to awaken.
But only 5% of the population ever succeeded.
Awakening depended on one's affinity with the world and the strength of their bloodline. Once awakened, an individual gained access to the Akashic Record—a cosmic library that observed all living beings, evaluated their talents and stats, and sometimes bestowed titles.
"This is truly a masterpiece… well, if we erase the ending."
Because the ending was the part I hated the most.
The hero failed.
He couldn't save the world.
Novacter fell into chaos—god-level entities clashing while everything burned.
The protagonist, blessed with a powerful system, became nothing more than a lifeless killing machine, stripped of emotion and humanity.
"Seriously… what a shitty ending for such a great story."
I sighed and was about to close the book—
When a thin wisp of light burst from the pages and shot directly into my hand.
I flinched violently, dropping the book.
"What the hell was that…?"
Before I could react further, the book began to glow.
Its pages crumbled into tiny particles, disintegrating as though reality itself was erasing it.
I stepped back, numb with shock.
My genius mind, the one that could solve impossible problems in seconds…
went completely blank.
Piece by piece, the book dissolved until the very last spark vanished into the air.
The moment it disappeared, my thoughts blurred. Darkness crept into my vision.
And then—
I lost consciousness.
3rd Person POV
In a lavish room, on a king-sized bed, a young boy lay unconscious.
Snow-white hair brushed across his forehead, and though exhaustion clung to his features, his beauty remained striking. He appeared no older than fourteen.
Suddenly, his fingers twitched.
A pair of ruby-red eyes—sharp, vivid, and unnaturally bright—slowly opened.
Adam's POV
Where the fuck am I?
As if answering my thoughts, an excruciating pain exploded inside my skull.
"URRRRRR—GGAAHH—HAHAHA—WHAT THE FUUUUUCK—!"
I clutched my head as agony tore through me, screaming until my throat burned.
And with that pain… came memories.
Memories I had never lived.
Emotions I had never felt.
Experiences belonging to someone else.
They flooded into me violently, branding themselves into my soul. It felt like two lives were being forced into one vessel—two
identities merging, screaming, colliding.
After what felt like eternity but lasted barely five minutes, the pain faded.
I collapsed onto the bed, drenched in sweat, trembling uncontrollably.
I had experienced unimaginable things before… but that pain was on a different level entirely.
But what truly terrified me wasn't the pain.
It was what those memories revealed.
"I… transmigrated inside the damn book."
The memories belonged to someone named:
Arthur Von Vormir.
A minor noble.
A side character.
And—unluckily—cousin of the main protagonist.
"This doesn't make any sense… hahaha… how the hell is this even possible?"
The empty room offered no answers.
Only silence.