[Location: West Vagrania, Urus Amuria Nation — Far West of the Southern Eurysterr Continent]
3rd Month, Year 402 of the AR Calendar
Anton jolted awake on the bed with a sharp gasp. His eyes darted around the room, filled with fear, panic, and confusion—as if something was deeply wrong.
To any onlooker, nothing seemed out of place. But to the young man himself, everything felt alien.
The unfamiliar architectural style was the first thing he noticed.
"Did I survive? Did someone save me?" Anton muttered under his breath. He remembered he was chased in the confine of his own house by a masked person. With a knife.
Then another unfamiliarity registered—his voice. It didn't sound like the one he remembered.
Anton lifted his hands into his line of sight, and his eyes widened. These weren't his hands. Even the complexion was different from anything he recognized.
His gaze swept across the room again, searching for answers—until it landed on a mirror hanging on the wall.
Anton almost flew toward it.
Standing before the mirror, he stared at the reflection—and froze.
Disbelief crept into his mind, accompanied by a growing fear of the unknown.
More accurately—
"Who the hell is this handsome bastard?!"
It took quite a while for Anton to calm down and shake off the rising arousal he felt from seeing his own reflection. At this point, he was almost beautiful.
Taking a few deep breaths, Anton looked again, his eyes carefully scanning the image and noting what had changed from what he remembered.
A high nose bridge. A razor-sharp jawline. Blue eyes. Messy blond hair. His shoulders were broader than before. Taller, too—around 190 centimeters, or 1.9 meters.
The room's interior décor looked modern, yet several elements were either missing or replaced with unfamiliar counterparts—different in shape, size, aesthetics, and apparent function.
It seemed the only possible explanation was that he had woken up in someone else's body.
Something felt delayed—then finally—
"ARGHHH!!"
Anton screamed at the top of his lungs as a violently obnoxious migraine assaulted his brain.
Memories belonging to this body surged to the forefront of his mind, flashing rapidly and vividly like a long movie. A painfully long one—though in real time, it ended in barely ten seconds.
BAM!
The door to Anton's room was kicked open as two burly men, both taller than Anton himself, stormed inside.
"The fuck are you yelling for?!" one of them shouted, his expression menacing—clearly furious at being interrupted from whatever he'd been doing.
The second man didn't speak, but judging from the twisted frown on his face, he was just as pissed.
Anton.... No, Adam Elliot's mouth opened, but no words emerged.
From the body's memories, Anton realized these two men were Cedric and Brutus Elliot. His stepbrothers...
He also now knew his identity,
"Nah. No way. I- I'm Adam Elliot...?" The realization hits him harder than the knife he tanked with his abdomen. Because....
Adam Elliot is the protagonist of his novel. This world : The stage of a grimdark story.
He's the author, who thinks it'd make his light novel way better if he torture the protagonist continuously. Physically and mentally.
It did make the story better, and he made a lot of money from the novel, almost becoming a millionaire author.
Unfortunately, a crazy fan who got too absorbed in the story, felt that Anton is an evil guy and did the unthinkable....
Anton died in the hands of his novel's fan.