The voice wasn't just a sound anymore; it was an itch inside my brain.
("Okay, I really got a stupid person,") the voice sighed, sounding remarkably like a customer service agent who had been on shift for twelve hours too long. ("Let's make it short: You were dead. You reincarnated. Now, can you please wake up so I can complete my work? That girl has been trying to shake you into consciousness for the last three minutes, but you're just laying there catching flies.")
My mental gears groaned as they tried to turn. "Wait! That means... I'm still alive? And what do you mean a girl is waking me up? Where am I?"
The voice shifted, adopting a tone of forced patience. ("Well, to answer that: First of all, you died. However, because you managed to do a handful of decent things in your miserable previous life, you were granted a unique opportunity. Rebirth. A fresh start. A chance to actually make better choices than 'drinking until you can't walk.' It's a rare gift, Ishida. Or should I say... Ray?")
"My good deeds actually counted for something?" I stammered. "But wait—how did I die? The last thing I remember was the streetlights blurring. And who are you? I need clarity, not riddles!"
("You overdosed on alcohol, Riku. Your judgment was impaired to the point of being non-existent. You wandered into the middle of the road without looking at the lights, and—well, let's just say the truck didn't have brakes as good as your imagination. It was a tragic, messy end. I am your Guide. I'll explain the rest once you're actually functional. Now, WAKE THE HELL UP, YOU IDIOT! There's a whole world out here waiting for you to fail at it!")
Suddenly, the weightless void vanished.
I felt a soft pressure against my back—a bed? It felt too comfortable to be the cold asphalt of Tokyo. A gentle, rhythmic patting followed, and then a voice—delicate, feminine, and terrifyingly close—floated into my ears.
"Ray..."
I kept my eyes shut. My mind was racing. Ray? That wasn't my name. My name was Riku. But as the fog of sleep began to lift, the darkness behind my eyelids felt different. It wasn't the suffocating void; it was just the darkness of a dimly lit room.
"You should really open your eyes, Ray! Mother will have dinner ready any second! You've only got ten minutes before she comes up here herself!"
"Hnn? Wait..." I mumbled. My voice sounded different. It was higher, younger, and lacked the gravel of a twenty-one-year-old's morning throat.
Mother? The word felt like a puzzle piece from a different box. I didn't have a mother. I was an orphan. Curiosity finally overrode my fear, and I forced my eyelids to snap open.
The light was soft, filtered through curtains that smelled of lavender. I turned my head toward the source of the voice, and my heart skipped a beat. Seated on the edge of the bed was a girl who looked like she had been rendered by a high-budget animation studio. Her dark brown hair fell in glossy waves over her shoulders, and her eyes—pools of deep, shimmering black—were currently narrowed with a mix of warmth and playful mischief.
I blinked, my gaze wandering. This wasn't my cramped apartment. The walls were decorated with vibrant paintings of landscapes I didn't recognize. The furniture was high-quality wood, and a faint, mouth-watering scent—something involving garlic and roasting meat—wafted in from the hallway.
I looked back at the girl. She was wearing a fitted t-shirt that showed just a hint of her midriff and a pair of jeans that emphasized her long, graceful legs. She stood about 5'8", exuding an effortless, natural charm. She was, without exaggeration, more beautiful than any woman I had ever seen in the real world.
"Ray? Are you actually awake, or are you just practicing sleeping with your eyes open?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.
"Yeah... yeah, I'm awake," I replied, sitting up slowly. The movement felt fluid, more athletic than I remembered. "I'll be down in a bit. You go ahead."
She didn't look entirely convinced, but she stood up, tossed her hair back, and headed for the door. The moment the door clicked shut, my face crumpled into an expression of pure, unadulterated shock.
"No way," I whispered, clutching my head. "Riya?"
Riya. I knew her. But I didn't know her from life. I knew her from Capture Target. She was a minor character—hardly more than a background NPC who provided a few lines of dialogue in the early chapters and in middle well it's tragic. And yet, she had just been sitting on my bed.
"Okay, Voice! If you're still there, start explaining. Now!" I demanded.
Suddenly, a series of translucent boxes flickered into existence in my field of vision.
[Starting System Connection...]
[Pairing System with Host: Ray Aldihard...]
[Process Finished. Hello, Host.]
("Now I will provide the answers,") the voice returned, now sounding more like the text on the screen. ("Yes, this is the 'System' archetype you've read about. Your deductions are correct. You are currently inside the world of 'Capture Target.' You haven't just been transported; you've been reborn into the narrative.")
My blood turned to ice and fire at the same time. This was the game I had spent hundreds of hours mastering. The world of magic, political intrigue, and beautiful heroines.
"Amazing!" I shouted, then quickly muffled my mouth. "Yesterday I was playing this on a screen, and today I'm... wait. If she called me Ray... and this is the Aldihard household..."
The realization hit me like a physical punch to the gut.
"I'm not the protagonist. I'm Ray Aldihard."
In the lore of Capture Target, Ray Aldihard wasn't even a villain. To be a villain, you had to be a threat. Ray was a "minor antagonist"—a spoiled, weak, and pathetic speed bump of a character. He was the guy the male lead used as a punching bag in the first three chapters to show off his new powers and then joined protagonist group and died by very same protagonist. Ray was the guy who got bullied by the people he was supposed to be "villainizing."
"System," I whispered, "show me my details. Let's see how bad this really is."
A shimmering blue screen materialized, hovering in the air with a soft hum.
Character Profile: Ray Aldihard
Race: Human | Level: 3 | Class: Minor Noble (Insignificant)
Attribute Value
HP 350 / 350
MP 950 / 950
Strength 35
Vitality 31
Agility 32
Dexterity 32
Intelligence 99
Luck 99
Charm 140
Stat Points: 0 | Shop Points: 0
Skills: [Meteor Fire (Locked/Incomplete)], [Water Spear (Level 1)]
I stared at the stats. My Intelligence and Luck were surprisingly high, and my Charm was... off the charts? But my physical stats were abysmal.
"I'm a glass cannon without the cannon," I groaned.
In the game, Ray Aldihard was a footnote in the gene pool of antagonists. He was a coward who hid behind his family name, only to be crushed by the protagonist's first "Power of Friendship" moment. He had no talent, no spine, and in the original timeline, he ended up expelled and disgraced before the mid-game even started.
But as I looked at my hands—hands that didn't shake, hands that felt capable of wielding the magic I had only read about—a new feeling began to stir.
"If I know the plot," I murmured, a smirk finally tugging at the corners of my new mouth, "then I know exactly when the 'hero' is coming for me. And I don't plan on being a speed bump."
The room felt like it was shrinking. As I sat on the edge of the bed, the "game lore" didn't just return to me as dry data; it hit me like a series of visceral, nauseating visions. It was as if a dam had burst in my mind, flooding my consciousness with the tragic, pathetic life of Ray Aldihard.
To Be Continue...
"Want to see this story reach more people? A few Power Stones go a long way! 🚀
I'd love to hear your thoughts, so don't hesitate to comment with any suggestions or questions. Also, if you have a moment, writing a review would be a massive help.
Thanks for being part of this journey!"