"Today is your death day, Rio," the king's words hung in the air like a dark cloud.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Here I was, newly transmigrated into this body, surrounded by powerful family members, and now they were casually talking about my impending demise.
It was like a dark comedy unfolding before my eyes.
"What the heck is going on?" I mumbled under my breath, hoping no one would hear me.
I had just taken over this body, and now they were telling me that today was the day it was supposed to die?
Was I transmigrated into this body because the real owner had already met his end?
The room fell silent, and the king's expression remained as stoic as ever.
I could feel the judging stares from my newfound family members piercing through me, and I was starting to regret ever accepting this transmigration offer.
Firstly, I was sent to 100 years into the future.
Secondly, I was transmigrated into a perverts body. And now this!
"So, are you ready?" the king asked, his eyes locked onto mine.
What kind of a question is that? Of course, I am not ready! Who in their right mind would want to die?
"I hope you are," the king continued with an unsettling calmness that sent shivers down my spine.
His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore into my soul, making me feel as if I were on trial for a crime I hadn't committed.
I exchanged bewildered glances with my siblings, who all remained eerily silent.
None of them seemed fazed by the king's ominous words, as if this were just another ordinary family gathering.
Huh, what the heck? I thought to myself, struggling to grasp the gravity of the situation.
Was I supposed to be prepared to die today? It felt like a surreal nightmare, and I couldn't help but wonder if the author of this novel had some twisted sense of humor.
As I tried to wrap my head around the bizarre turn of events, I realized that I needed to find answers quickly. I took a deep breath, trying to muster some courage. "What do you mean, 'today is my death day'?" I finally managed to ask, my voice trembling with uncertainty.
The King didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate sip of a dark red liquid from his goblet.
The only sound was the rhythmic, clinical clinking of silverware as my siblings continued to eat with terrifying grace, as if my impending death were just a dull topic of breakfast conversation.
Do they not care if I die?
"Don't play the fool, Rio," the King finally said, "You drew steel against a Prince of the Blood. In this house, only the strong have the right to be arrogant. You showed a spark of defiance, but now you must prove it wasn't just a dying ember."
He gestured toward Aries. My brother's glare was so intense I could practically feel my skin blistering under the heat of his hatred.
"Your brother has waited a month for his honor to be satisfied," the King continued. "The duel is at noon. If you cannot defend your life, you do not deserve to keep it."
I felt a cold sweat break out across my neck. Noon? That was barely a few hours away. I had just inherited the body of a supposed "pervert" and "loser" in a world of literal monsters, and now I was expected to fight a high-ranking Dragon Prince to the death?
Well, I too am a dragon, but I don't know anything about being a dragon. I am just a rusty engine in a Ferrari cover.
I turned my head slowly toward Aries. Up close, the scar was even more gruesome. It was a jagged, angry ridge of flesh that ruined his otherwise perfect "Aragon" face.
As I stared at it, a sudden, violent pulse throbbed in my temples. It wasn't just a headache; it was a memory—hot, raw, and terrifying.
I wasn't standing in this grand hall anymore. I was in a dimly lit corridor, the smell of damp stone and expensive incense filling my nose. I saw a girl—the one from the letter from before, maybe.
She was trembling, backed against a wall, her eyes wide with tears.
Then I saw him. Aries.
He didn't look like a dignified prince then. He looked like a predator. He was reaching for her, his voice a low, disgusting drawl about how a "servant's duty" included entertaining the royalty.
The "old" Rio—the guy whose body I was now inhabiting—was a coward. I could feel his knees shaking in the memory. But then, a spark of something else took over. I saw my hands reach for a heavy, ornamental sword hanging on the wall. It was meant for decoration, unsharpened and clunky, but I didn't care.
I didn't think. I just swung.
The sound of the metal biting into his face was sickening. The scream that followed was worse. I remember the guards slamming me into the floor for the act I had just committed.
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. Not just because I was scared, but because that memory of swinging the sword was still echoing in my muscles.
I hadn't been a pervert in that moment; I had been a protector. But in this family, being a "hero" for a servant was a greater sin than being a predator.
'Shit, why were you a fool, Rio?'