The air on the tiny balcony of Rio's apartment was dense and cool, carrying a faint metallic trace of the city's pollution that mingled with the sharper bite of cheap, stale tobacco.
The distant hum of traffic drifted through the night like a constant reminder that the world kept moving forward, indifferent to anyone who fell behind.
Rio stood with his back pressed against the low, cold railing. His posture remained rigidly straight, almost stubbornly so, despite the weary slump in his shoulders that betrayed his exhaustion.
He wore a dark coat that was slightly too long and not quite expensive enough to pass as high fashion.
Still, it was meticulously clean, mirroring the neat precision of his slicked-back black hair, which looked as though it had been arranged with almost aggressive care.
His sharp green eyes stared into the distance, following the hazy glow of the city's towering buildings.
The skyline stretched endlessly into the night, glittering with lights that most people would have found beautiful.
For Rio, however, those lights only emphasized how small and isolated he truly was.
He tried with every fiber of his being to look like a man peacefully enjoying a moment of solitude.
Yet the sounds coming from the room directly behind him made that illusion completely ridiculous.
"Hmm… ahh… yess…"
" ahh… yess…just...there"
"I… am… cumming"
" ahh... ahhhhhhh"
The muffled voices were no longer distant murmurs.
They had grown into loud, rhythmic declarations of pleasure that pulsed through the thin wall and spilled out into the quiet air of the balcony.
Rio's jaw slowly tightened.
He held a cigarette between two fingers, its ember burning low and casting a dim orange glow against his skin.
Bringing it to his lips, he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke sting his lungs and briefly dull the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck.
After a moment, he released a long, shuddering sigh, a breath heavy with quiet resignation that had long since become familiar to him.
Rio was technically an undergraduate student, standing on the edge of his final year in a demanding foreign program. On paper, his future still seemed promising.
In reality, he felt more like a ghost wandering along the edges of a world that refused to acknowledge him.
Rio was an orphan.
The only reason he could afford to stay in this impossibly expensive city was the single, unimpressive property he owned—the apartment he currently lived in.
Years earlier, his parents had died in a sudden, devastating traffic accident.
The driver responsible had been a wealthy foreigner with deep pockets and an even deeper ability to avoid consequences.
Rather than facing punishment, the incident had quietly disappeared beneath a large financial settlement.
Part of that settlement had been this apartment.
Rio had never been able to think of it as a home.
It was compensation.
A cold, lifeless structure of concrete and glass that had been handed over in exchange for his silence and continued existence.
Inside the apartment, the sounds finally reached their inevitable peak. A sharp cry of pleasure echoed through the walls, making Rio flinch as his eyes narrowed slightly.
Then, just as abruptly as it had risen, the noise disappeared.
An oppressive silence followed.
Rio flicked the cigarette butt onto the concrete floor and crushed it beneath the toe of his shoe.
Remaining still, he listened carefully for the faint movements that would inevitably follow.
He knew this exact moment well.
The quiet rush.
The awkward fumbling with clothes.
The satisfied murmurs exchanged before parting.
After several tense minutes, the apartment door finally opened.
Frank stepped out first.
He looked less like a university student and more like a statue carved by a Greek sculptor and brought to life.
His broad shoulders filled the expensive suit he wore, and his blonde hair was slightly tousled in a way that somehow made him look even more charming.
His jawline was sharp, his posture confident, and the smile he wore seemed effortless too wide, too relaxed, as though the world had always been built in his favor.
Frank embodied everything Rio lacked.
Talent. Wealth. Confidence.
The woman who followed behind him was stunningly beautiful. Her elegant gown shimmered faintly beneath the hallway lights, though it had clearly been disturbed.
She leaned heavily against Frank's arm, her long dark hair spilling down her back as if she had just stepped out of a luxury advertisement.
Frank guided her toward the elevator with casual familiarity, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back.
Just before leaving completely, he paused.
Turning slightly, Frank glanced toward Rio, his crimson eyes briefly sweeping over him with a detached, indifferent look.
Then he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick roll of currency.
Without ceremony, he slipped the money directly into Rio's coat pocket.
Rio immediately felt the crisp texture of the bills pressing against his palm. It was a thick bundle—several thousand dollars at least.
Frank gave him a quick thumbs-up, the kind of meaningless gesture someone might offer a valet who had simply done his job correctly.
Then he turned away.
The elevator doors closed with a quiet ding, carrying him and the beautiful woman back to the glamorous world Rio could only watch from the sidelines.
Rio remained motionless until the faint hum of the elevator disappeared completely.
Only then did his hand slowly move to his pocket, his fingers pressing against the reassuring weight of the cash.
It was a considerable amount of money.
Enough to cover his daily expenses—and even a few small luxuries—for quite some time.
That practical reality was the only thing keeping the growing bitterness inside him from completely consuming his thoughts.
Eventually, Rio turned and stepped back into the apartment.
The interior looked exactly as he expected.
The bedsheets were tangled and damp, faintly scented with expensive perfume and lingering sweat.
The inexpensive furniture that made up Rio's modest living space had been pushed carelessly aside.
The room did not feel like a place where passion had occurred.
It felt violated.
Not by intimacy, but by careless entitlement.
Rio did not shout.
He did not curse.
Instead, he simply sighed—a long, tired sound that carried years of quiet frustration.
Then he began cleaning.
He worked methodically, restoring every corner of the apartment with meticulous care.
The bed was remade with tight, military-style precision.
The small bathroom sink was wiped spotless.
Chairs and tables were returned to their exact positions.
Every movement was calm and deliberate.
It was less about cleaning and more about reclaiming the small space that still belonged to him.
Nearly an hour passed before the apartment looked normal again.
Once everything was spotless and orderly, Rio finally allowed himself a brief moment of relief.
He walked to the cramped kitchen counter and pulled a six-pack of cheap beer from his mini-fridge.
Then he ordered a large amount of fried chicken from the twenty-four-hour delivery place he relied on far too often.
Soon the room filled with the warm, greasy smell of comfort food.
Rio settled down at his small desk, the scent of fried chicken strangely comforting while the cold beer acted as a quiet sedative.
He ate slowly, even in private maintaining the same controlled movements he used around others.
After taking a long drink from his beer, he muttered quietly into the empty room.
"What a lucky bastard."
Another sip followed.
"He gets another girl so easily… why can he get girls anytime he wants, while trash like me can't even get a girlfriend?"
The thought struck like a needle.
Because it was true.
Rio had tried before.
There had once been a quiet girl in his program whom he genuinely liked. She had seemed kind and normal—someone who might have given him a small piece of stability.
But every time he tried to approach her, Frank had appeared.
Frank flirted.
Frank conquered.
And then Frank used Rio's apartment as the hotel room where he celebrated the victory.
Rio laughed quietly at the memory, though there was nothing humorous about it.
His green eyes were slightly red, not only from lack of sleep but from the slow accumulation of humiliation that had followed him for years.
He was nothing more than a spectator in his own life.
Someone forced to watch the triumphs of a man who effortlessly possessed everything he lacked.
The only reason he tolerated it was the money in his pocket.
"At least I can earn something," he thought.
Yet even that excuse felt hollow.
The money felt like ash.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as old thoughts resurfaced.
Since the accident that took his parents, he had always carried the quiet feeling that the world itself was unfair.
An old Chinese proverb suddenly surfaced in his mind.
[ "人為魚肉,我為刀俎." ]
He whispered its meaning slowly.
[ "Others are the fish and meat… and I am the chopping block.". ]
He shook his head bitterly.
"I'm not even the knife."
Taking another long drink of beer, he felt the dizziness begin to spread through the back of his mind.
As his gaze wandered across the newly cleaned room, something unfamiliar caught his eye beneath the edge of the desk.
A sleek black object rested there.
Rio leaned down and picked it up.
It was a phone.
A slim, obsidian-colored device that practically radiated wealth and careless luxury.
Frank must have dropped it.
A new wave of envy stirred inside Rio as he stared at the expensive device.
Frank had everything.
Money.
Talent.
Looks.
Meanwhile Rio existed only as a convenience.
A tool.
Someone easily discarded.
For a brief moment, a dangerous thought crept into his mind.
What would it feel like to live Frank's life?
Even if it were just once.
Even if it lasted only a single day.
As the thought settled into his mind, the phone suddenly vibrated and burst into a cheerful ringtone.
The caller ID displayed one name.
Frank.
Rio blinked slowly, shaking his head as the alcohol fogged his thoughts.
He answered the call.
"Hello?"
Frank's relaxed voice came through immediately.
"Axel, hey! I think I left my phone at your place."
Rio sighed quietly.
"Yeah, I have it."
Frank chuckled.
"Great. Just keep it safe. I'll grab it tomorrow."
Rio was about to agree and end the call, but the alcohol and the weight of years of humiliation pushed him toward something reckless.
Before he could stop himself, he asked,
"Wait… Frank. What's the password?"
Silence filled the line instantly.
Rio's heart jumped as he realized he had crossed a boundary.
"Sorry," he quickly added. "My mistake. I just wanted to know it was secure."
To his surprise, Frank laughed lightly.
"Relax, Axel. It's just an extra phone."
"The password is 484848. Check whatever you want."
The call ended.
Rio stared at the glowing screen.
Frank's casual indifference somehow felt even more insulting.
He finished the rest of his beer in a single long drink, feeling his head spin as the alcohol finally settled into his bloodstream.
Then he heard something strange.
Voices.
Hundreds of them.
They sounded distant yet urgent, speaking rapidly in a sharp language he did not recognize.
Rio frowned and rubbed his eyes.
When he lowered his hands, he froze.
The desk was gone.
The fried chicken was gone.
The beer cans had vanished.
Rio was no longer standing inside his apartment.
Instead, he stood on a polished marble floor surrounded by towering velvet curtains and golden decorations.
A massive banquet hall stretched around him, illuminated by hundreds of crystal chandeliers that scattered brilliant light across the room.
Well-dressed men and women filled the hall, their elegant suits and gowns glittering as they spoke among themselves.
Then Rio noticed a figure across the room.
The man stood with an aura of dark authority.
Broad shoulders.
Jet-black hair streaked with crimson.
Eyes that burned like blood.
Rio recognized him instantly.
Kael Arden.
The main villain.
The man whose future destruction Rio knew far too well.
The alcohol vanished from his mind instantly.
A cold realization struck him.
Slowly, he looked down at his own clothes.
The coat.
The accessories.
The unmistakable outfit.
Axel's outfit.
The villain's loyal lackey.
Rio jumped to his feet so suddenly that the heavy ballroom chair scraped loudly across the marble floor.
The entire hall fell silent as dozens of curious eyes turned toward him.
But Rio barely noticed.
His mind was exploding.
And the only words that escaped his mouth were the ones screaming inside his head.
"FUCK!"
His voice echoed through the silent ballroom.
"Did I transmigrate?!"