An hour later.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed inside my room, staring at my hands. The room was opulent—gold-trimmed furniture, silk curtains, and the faint scent of expensive incense—but I barely noticed any of it. My mind was still back on that scorched marble.
The moment the match ended, when the silence was at its heaviest, I didn't wait for the King to give me a medal. I didn't wait for my sisters to come down and interrogate me. I just turned around, walked out of the arena, and didn't stop until I had locked my bedroom door.
Out there, in front of everyone, I had looked stoic. In reality, it was a miracle I didn't collapse into the same crater Aries had made.
My legs had been shaking so violently that every step felt like a gamble against gravity.
And now that I think about it... my hands and legs weren't shaking from physical exertion. Sure, the sword was heavy, but the tremors were coming from something deeper.
Fear. Pure, unadulterated shock.
That was my first ever real battle. Not just in this body, but in my whole life.
Even before coming to this twisted novel, the year I spent in that other world—my first transmigration—was basically a vacation. No fights, no demons, no magical fireballs, and definitely no family members trying to execute me before lunch. I had lived a good, quiet life.
"I actually hit him," I whispered to the empty room. "I really just broke a Prince's jaw."
I looked back at my palms. They were red from the hilt of the sword and the reality of the situation started to sink in like a slow-acting poison. In a "trashy novel," the protagonist wins the first fight and suddenly everyone respects him. But I knew better.
The warning on that stupid "Author's Pigeon" screen was still burned into my mind.
— Warning: The 'Aries' character will not forget this. The 'Aragon' family will not forget this.
I wasn't safe. If anything, I was in more danger now than I was at breakfast. I had gone from being a "useless pervert" they could ignore to an "anomaly" they had to watch. And in a family of dragons and vampires, "watching" usually involved a lot more blood than a simple duel.
"Ah man, why did this have to happen?"
I whispered and buried my face into my hands.
"Why couldn't I just at least get into the body of someone normal? A baker? A librarian? A background character who sells cabbages?"
I slumped back onto the silk pillows, staring at the ceiling and letting my mind drift back to the world that felt like a lifetime ago.
Before the dragons. Before the transmigration. Before I was Rio. I was just an 18-year-old high school student. My life was a clockwork routine: wake up, eat, go to school, come back, study for five hours, eat again, and sleep. That was it.
It wasn't a fairy tale, but it was mine.
Sure, the classroom's ceiling fan was always broken, spinning with a death rattle that made us wonder if today was the day it would finally fall and take someone out.
And I remember the shortage of desks and chairs; if you were late, you were sitting on the floor. But we didn't complain.
It was Pakistan, after all. Things like that were just... normal. You just dealt with the heat and the cramped space and got on with your day.
I didn't have any cinematic bullies. I wasn't some tragic protagonist running errands for thugs. I was just a "good kid."
And since I was actually very, very good in my studies, I managed to meet my parents' expectations without too much drama. I had a comfortable, predictable life.
The only "adventure" I ever had was the self-assigned time I spent reading a novel or a comic book before bed. It was my escape. My reward.
And... I regret that. I regret that so much right now.
I shouldn't have stayed up to read that one last chapter of that novel from this trashy author.
I should have seen the trashy cover, the cliché tropes, and the sadistic author's name and just scrolled past. Why did I have to be curious? Why did I have to finish the last chapter before I closed my eyes?
Now, instead of worrying about a board exam or a broken ceiling fan, I was worrying about a Dragon family who probably wanted to turn my internal organs into a buffet.
"If I ever find that author," I muttered, clutching a handful of the expensive bed sheet, "I'm going to make them sit on a Pakistani classroom floor for a decade."
Suddenly, the 'Pigeon' flickered back to life, pulsing a faint, irritating purple.
— PLOT UPDATE: The 'First Villain' has been humbled. —
— Effect: The 'Villainess' has changed her trajectory. —
— New Objective: The 'Obsessive' Sister. —
Elena Aragon is currently standing outside your door. She is not here to check on your health.