Two months ago, I woke up in the body of Geoffrey De Lune—a minor villain from a novel I read before going to sleep.
The first time I opened my eyes, I was greeted by an unfamiliar luxurious bedroom ceiling with golden carvings. These hands were too large, this voice too deep, even the way of breathing felt different.
The novel was rather clichéd. A commoner protagonist with a hidden true dragon bloodline, fighting against noble oppression, then becoming a hero who saves the world from the demon king. And me? I was a small-time villain whose role ended in Chapter 15—defeated embarrassingly at the academy tournament, then disappeared from the story forever.
Perfect. As long as I followed the plot until today, I could live peacefully with the wealth of the De Lune County family without having to bother dealing with the demon king or protagonist drama.
That's why... today is my last day being Geoffrey the petty antagonist.
***
"..... You're decent enough, but a loser will always be a loser in the end."
Geoffrey stared toward the novel's protagonist—Cedric Duclair. Silver hair that gleamed even beneath the arena dust, a sturdy posture unusual for a farmer's son, and sharp golden eyes. Too perfect for a mere commoner.
Cedric knelt on one knee, his hand gripping tightly the hilt of his scratched sword. His body was covered in wounds—purple bruises, bleeding cuts, gaping monster claw marks.
Cedric's breathing was labored, his vision blurred. Meanwhile, Geoffrey wiped the sweat on his forehead—an arrogant smile still perfectly plastered on his face.
The smell of sweat and dust mixed in the air. The arena floor was cracked in several places, traces of a battle that had lasted more than ten minutes.
The audience's voices echoed.
"Keep at it, Lord Geoffrey!"
"Damn cruel noble!"
Geoffrey chuckled. 'They're enjoying this well,' he thought. 'After this, I wonder what your expressions will be.'
This was chapter fifteen, just as in the novel.
Geoffrey sighed softly. Cedric was still trying to stand. His smile widened, the corners of his lips rising upward in an unnatural way—exactly like a petty villain in a cheap novel.
"Kekeke~ still not giving up?" His voice was full of mockery. "Let's see how far you can endure."
'What kind of cringe dialogue is this,' Geoffrey thought while maintaining his arrogant expression. 'But oh well, this is the last time.'
Geoffrey directed his palm forward. A symbol of five black leaves appeared on the back of his hand, pulsing faintly with dark light.
Before Geoffrey could do anything, he flinched—or at least pretended to flinch, according to the novel's scenario.
Cedric's pupils turned vertical, with intricate golden patterns that glowed. The light reflected off the arena dust, making the air feel like it was vibrating.
Geoffrey acted as in the novel—appearing shocked, he began releasing poison stored in his body and directed it toward Cedric swiftly.
However, Cedric easily avoided all the poison attacks that could have easily brought him down.
Geoffrey's smile then froze.
The arena suddenly fell silent. Even the spectators who had been shouting earlier now went quiet, watching with bated breath.
What Geoffrey was thinking right now wasn't anything important. Rather, it was an awareness when he realized that...
'Isn't this when I'm supposed to get beaten up by Cedric?' That's what he thought, something he had considered all along but...
'Uh.... This is definitely going to hurt, right?'
His heart pounded hard. His hands were sweating. Every instinct in his body screamed to run, but his legs wouldn't move.
'I just need to endure for a bit!'
Geoffrey swallowed. Meanwhile, Cedric disappeared, and wind whistled near him. The next second, a presence appeared close by.
His entire body screamed to flee. But all that came out was a low mutter:
"Damn."
Cedric raised his leg—then slammed Geoffrey's stomach.
Air was forced from his lungs. The world spun. His body flew—then crashed into the arena wall with a hard impact that triggered vibrations.
Geoffrey collapsed. Every breath felt like a knife in his chest. He struggled to get up.
His stomach throbbed. His back felt crushed, his hands trembled as he tried to rise.
'Take it easy, man!' he wanted to shout, but held that urge in his throat.
If only this weren't a plot he had to maintain. Geoffrey would have already thought about running away and surrendering right now. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that because he was afraid of variables that might occur due to his mistake.
That was too costly!
Geoffrey coughed, the taste of iron filling his mouth. A shadow then covered his body. The air suddenly felt cold. So cold that every instinct screamed danger.
'OH MOTHER...'
Geoffrey smiled resignedly, closing his eyes. Cedric's fist then filled his entire vision—then the world exploded into white.
The punch branded his face. The world swayed, Geoffrey collapsed to the arena floor and darkness swallowed him.
...
Cedric officially won the fight in the third round. A result that no one had ever expected.
The referee raised his hand with a face that still looked confused. "The winner—Cedric Duclair!"
The arena exploded. No one expected it, no one believed it, but the fact was right before their eyes.
Cedric stood silent, his breathing short and gasping. His chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to maintain his consciousness that was nearly slipping away.
His golden pupils contracted, returning to normal. Then, Cedric walked with a stagger, leaving the arena. Each step felt heavy. His legs almost gave up at every stride. But he kept walking—one step, two steps—until he finally passed through the arena gate.
The arena corridor was silent. Cedric walked unsteadily, but his legs had given up. His body collapsed onto the cold stone floor.
His eyes closed.
He lost consciousness.