"I am a cringy goth teenager!?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of dismay and horror.
He looked at himself again, more carefully. His clothes, a black lace shirt and black pants, did nothing to help the situation. Silver chains hung from his belt, and a necklace adorned with an inverted cross pendant decorated his neck.
"At least I'm handsome..." he conceded finally, with a resigned sigh. Despite everything, this sickly beauty had something enchanting about it, an almost supernatural quality that left no one indifferent.
He turned around, examining the room again. Every object triggered a wave of memories that mixed with those of his old life, creating a destabilizing cocktail in his mind. He recalled the days spent streaming, the evenings helping Marco decipher the complex mechanics of this dating game, the strategies developed to conquer the hearts of the different characters.
"Oh no..." he murmured, the realization hitting him like an electric shock. "No, no, no... This can't be possible."
He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his hands buried in his white hair. Everything was coming together in his head. He had reincarnated into this strange game, this otome game that his buddy Marco loved, this game where you could seduce a multitude of hot guys, this game where you had to play as one of the six available heroines.
"But it was a shitty game, damn it!" he cried out, his voice echoing in the silent room. "A game where if you choose one heroine, the others automatically become villains! A particularly difficult game because everyone hates each other! Fuck, this trash game!"
He remembered the long gaming sessions where he had helped Marco navigate this maze of complicated relationships. He remembered finding the concept particularly stupid, laughing at the absurd situations that occurred, even suggesting strategies to avoid the traps set by the jealous characters.
"But why the hell did I reincarnate here!?"
'Marco really screwed me over this time... With his trash otome game!'
He stood up and started pacing the room again, his mind racing at full speed. Memories continued to flood in, revealing more and more precise details about this world in which he found himself trapped.
And suddenly, he froze. A crucial piece of information had just surfaced in his memory.
"Wait..." he murmured, his eyes widening. "Wait, wait, wait... I am not a heroine."
He rushed back to the window and scrutinized his reflection as if seeking confirmation. The memories jostled and organized themselves.
"Kylian von Hansen... I am one of the targets."
He recalled, months earlier, going through the list of romanceable characters in this game. He remembered every description, every characteristic, every detail that distinguished them from one another.
"Kylian von Hansen," he recited out loud, the memories returning in fragments. "The hedonistic goth who melts all hearts with his nonchalant aura."
A bitter smile stretched his lips.
"At least I'm a high-level target..."
But his smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He suddenly remembered the many adventures he had followed in the game, the moments when this particular character found himself in more than compromising situations.
"Shit, shit, shit..." he grumbled while resuming his nervous pacing. "I am completely screwed."
Kylian von Hansen, the character he now embodied, was one of the most coveted but also one of the most vulnerable. His fragile beauty, his mysterious allure, all of it made him an ideal prey for troubled souls.
"I don't even have a bloodline," he continued, his fingers drumming on the windowsill. "No powerful family to protect me, no allies to count on."
And then, the most disturbing memories surfaced. The yandere villainesses. Those obsessed characters, ready to do anything to possess the one they loved, even if it meant kidnapping him, locking him up, and keeping him for themselves alone. How many times had he seen Kylian von Hansen get abducted? How many scenes had he unlocked where the young man found himself prisoner of a devouring and dangerous passion?
"It seems that in any world, I'm fucked," he sighed bitterly.
He stopped in front of the full-length mirror that decorated a corner of the room. His reflection showed him the image of a lost, vulnerable teenager, whose black eyes betrayed a barely contained anguish.
"I need to find a way to increase my power," he decided, his voice regaining a firmer tone. "That's the only thing that matters now. No point even thinking about who reincarnated me here, it doesn't really matter."
'And where the hell is my golden finger!'
He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. The memories of his previous life, the knowledge acquired as a life coach, the strategies he had developed to help others achieve their goals, all of that could be useful to him. He had to think, make a plan, figure out how to navigate this dangerous world.
"Alright then," he murmured, his fingers absently caressing one of his piercings. "Alright. I am in an otome game. I am a secondary character who constantly gets kidnapped. But I know how this game works. I know the mechanics, the weaknesses of the other characters, the key moments that can change the course of events."
He began to develop a strategy, his breathing finding a calmer rhythm. It might be a desperate situation, but he had already overcome much more complex challenges in his life as a streamer. He could get through this.
'Hmmm, I must be about 15 years old... So about 5 years before the start of the game... Maybe I can change certain events so that the heroines don't become villains.'
*knock-knock*
"Enter."
And a young woman entered, and before he could say anything, she kissed him.
'Who is she?'
"Ah… Lord Kylian, I was so worried! I heard you fainted because of weakness."
"Hum, I'm fine now…"
And it was then that Kylian understood: he was quite popular with the young ladies. Not only because of his appearance, but also because of his family's fortune. He was a prime target for noble families, especially viscounts and barons.
"Are you sure, young master?" she began while caressing his chest.
Kylian remembered her name: it was Lyra, the daughter of a baron who was crazy about this goth young master.
Kylian sighed.
'I must not arouse any suspicion. I have to behave as if I am still the young lord Hansen. Besides, who am I to ignore the calls of a young woman who is sincerely worried about me?'