As Damien thought his life had ended, he suddenly found himself drifting in a mysterious void.
His thoughts were jumbled, his mind disoriented.
He couldn't think clearly for a while.
Only after some time did his mind regain clarity.
Where am I?... Is this the afterlife?
He looked around in confusion.
But how am I even thinking right now?
Death is supposed to be the end.
Right?
He tried to analyze the surroundings.
Suddenly, a chill crept over him. He looked down at his limbs—only to see them slowly turning black.
Fuck.
"What the hell is happening now?"
His expression tensed as he felt darkness consuming his body bit by bit.
Just as he thought he was about to dissolve into nothingness, he felt a pull.
It started as a faint tug—but grew stronger with every passing second.
"I guess anything is better than waiting here."
With nothing to lose, Damien stopped resisting and let go.
His survival instinct kicked in.
His body surged forward, flying through the void.
He felt a light approaching.
He accelerated toward it, the brightness growing unbearable.
Just as Damien entered the light, the void around him trembled—like it was collapsing in on itself.
Then, an ancient voice echoed through the void—impossible to tell whether it was male or female.
"You're here at last... the chosen one."
The words brimmed with anticipation and something darker—something sinister.
But Damien couldn't hear them. He had already entered the light.
The voice vanished as quickly as it came, swallowed by the silence.
Then—
The darkness receded.
A blinding light assaulted his vision.
Instinctively, he curled up, shielding his eyes.
But before he could react further, pain exploded in his body.
He groaned, barely able to move.
Then—
A brutal kick landed against his head.
His head snapped sideways from the impact, and his vision blurred before he lost consciousness.
Just before blacking out, he heard a voice dripping with contempt.
"Throw him in his room."
—
Inside a spacious room, a boy with black hair lay on a massive bed.
His condition was critical.
His already frail body was riddled with injuries.
His arms bent at unnatural angles.
Suddenly, the boy's eyes opened.
Crimson eyes scanned the room in confusion.
Where am I?
Who am I?
His frown deepened. He couldn't even remember his name.
Slowly, clarity returned. His mind cleared bit by bit.
He tried to sit up—but winced as a jolt of pain shot through his battered body.
He gave up on moving, instead he examined his injuries.
Wasn't I dead?
A horrible memory flashed in his mind.
I remember... being pulled into a void after dying... then getting dragged toward a light...
This boy—was Damien.
Just as he was piecing things together, the door burst open.
A girl entered the room, radiating elegance.
Her crimson eyes shone under the soft light.
Waves of dark red hair flowed over her shoulders like liquid fire.
Her face was beautiful but unreadable.
Without a word, she moved toward him and handed over a glass vial.
It shimmered with an unknown blue liquid.
Damien stared at her, puzzled. So many questions appeared in his mind.
"Um..."
He opened his mouth to speak—
But the girl turned without a word and walked out of the room, ignoring him completely.
"What the hell was that all about?" Damien muttered.
His mind raced.
He looked at the vial in his hand.
Am I supposed to drink this?
Just then—
Pain exploded in his head.
"Uarghhhhhhhhhh!"
His scream pierced the room.
"Make it stop... please...!"
He held his head as if trying to hold it together.
Unfamiliar memories appeared in his mind.
Faces.
Places.
Names.
All foreign—yet hauntingly real.
It felt like living someone else's life.
Each memory dragged him deeper, drowning him in someone else's past.
After what felt like an eternity, the pain eased.
He opened his eyes again.
Now, the once unfamiliar room felt oddly familiar—like he'd always known it.
Then—
The door clicked open again.
Damien looked toward it.
A boy with red hair and crimson eyes entered.
He looked strikingly similar to the mysterious girl from earlier.
The moment Damien saw him, his body tensed.
He couldn't hold eye contact.
The boy noticed—and smirked.
"Aren't you going to greet your dear older brother?" he asked softly—his words laced with venom.
"Hello... brother," Damien said instinctively.
The boy chuckled, amused.
"Wow, looks like Cedric really went all out on you, huh?"
He glanced over Damien's battered body, finding it all very amusing.
"You see, stains like you are meant to be wiped out sooner or later. So why don't you just give up? Make it easy."
His voice was a devil's whisper.
"I... I..." Damien tried to speak, but no words came out.
"Well, anyway—don't get too comfortable. Your time's borrowed, after all," the boy said with a mocking grin.
"So enjoy it... Alden."
With that, he turned and left.
The room fell into silence once again.
Damien exhaled sharply. His clenched fist trembled.
Now, he remembered.
He knew where he was. Who he was.
The memories had settled.
Alden.
The name should have felt foreign—
But now, it felt like his own.
He wasn't Damien anymore. He had become someone else.
He had become Alden Draven—an illegitimate son of the Draven family.
And that red-haired boy?
None other than Rodrick Draven—his half-brother.
But that wasn't the real problem.
His heartbeat quickened as the realization crashed down on him.
Damn it... I transmigrated into my favorite novel.
And of all people... as Alden Draven—an extra who dies in the early chapters.
Fucking hell.
Damien cursed under his breath, a chill settling in his chest.