I slumped against the oak table, palms slick with sweat, chest heaving like I'd just sprinted out of hell and forgotten to stop running.
The words on the wall—THERE IS NO ESCAPE!—had faded into rusty smears, but they were carved deep into my skull.
Deep breaths, Zhang.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
Like that yoga app I tried once—right before Orion laughed me out of the room.
This was… unexpected didn't even begin to cover it.
Transmigration.
Me.
The guy whose greatest life-or-death dilemma was whether we could afford ramen this week—stuffed into Leonard's body. Leonard. The protagonist of Chronicles of the Dark Castle, the novel I'd reread until the binding cried for mercy.
Cosmic joke of the century.
I forced myself upright. My legs wobbled like overcooked noodles. Leonard's coat—my coat now—hung heavy on my shoulders, the fabric whispering softly with every movement.
Foreign.
Everything felt foreign.
But… I wasn't dead.
Silver lining. Tiny. Tarnished. But still there.
A tired smirk tugged at my lips.
Leonard's lips—sharp, elegant, annoyingly handsome. Dark hair falling just right. Brown eyes that looked like they'd stared down centuries of blood and secrets.
God. I looked unfairly good.
Brooding-good. Book-cover-good.
Not "currently-panicking-in-a-library" good.
The smirk died fast.
Because Leonard's life?
Yeah. That was mine now.
His obligations. His enemies. His emotional trauma from a goddess mother and a battle-hardened father tied to the Dark Castle's bloody history. The politics. The madness. The inevitable doom flags waving like parade banners.
And the magic.
That part lingered.
The warmth I'd felt earlier—steady, obedient, real. Not the fizzled sparks of my old life.
Power.
Actual, honest-to-gods power.
My stomach twisted.
This world wasn't a comfy fantasy. Gods treated mortals like toys. Magicians snapped under pressure and butchered each other in fits of divine insanity. Clans imploded. Kingdoms drowned in blood and hysteria.
Survival wasn't guaranteed.
My only advantage?
Plot knowledge.
And even that could get me killed if I slipped once.
I rolled my shoulders, forcing myself steady.
The library stretched endlessly around me. Towering shelves. Dust drifting like frozen stars. A long central table drowning in journals and maps that screamed important lore dump.
Outside the narrow window, the gothic metropolis glimmered—spires like fangs, lights pulsing like watchful eyes.
Definitely not my world.
"Alright," I muttered. "Time to catch up, Leonard."
I flexed my fingers.
Light first.
I channeled intent the way the novel described—slow, controlled, deliberate.
A golden orb bloomed in my palm.
Stable. Bright. Obedient.
I stared.
"…Holy shit."
No sputtering. No backlash. No failure.
Real magic surged through me, clean and responsive.
Excitement cut through the dread like a blade.
Then—shadows.
Leonard's signature.
I reached deeper.
The temperature dipped. Thin black wisps unfurled from my fingertips, curling like living smoke. They moved eagerly, responsive to thought, heavier than I'd imagined.
A grin split my face.
Okay, universe.
Maybe this won't completely suck.
Hiss.
Faint. Subtle.
I ignored it at first—too busy making shadow tendrils dance.
Then came the smell.
Metallic. Acrid. Like blood scorched by lightning.
Wrong.
So wrong.
I turned.
A hairline crack split the stone wall.
Crimson smoke leaked out.
Thin wisps at first, curling lazily like incense.
Red.
"…Uh," I said weakly. "Maintenance issue?"
The crack widened.
The smoke poured out.
Thick. Heavy. Pulsing like a ruptured artery.
It slithered across the floor, warm and clinging, swallowing the scent of parchment whole.
My pulse spiked.
I backed away.
The haze rose—coiling around shelves, choking the air. Dust vanished into it, erased.
I coughed. Eyes burned.
"Nope. Nope. Nope."
The arched window was sealed—glass fused into stone. No doors. No vents.
The library shrank.
The smoke pressed in.
I threw out a wind burst.
A violent gust scattered the haze—
Only for it to re-form instantly, mocking me.
"Shit—"
I ran.
Aisles blurred. Left. Right. Dead end.
Cold stone slammed into my back.
My lungs burned. My limbs grew heavy, like I was wading through syrup.
The red fog wrapped around me.
Warm.
Intimate.
Predatory.
Vision warped.
The library dissolved.
Wood creaked beneath my feet.
Rotting planks.
Stone became peeling wallpaper.
A hallway stretched endlessly ahead, lit by flickering bulbs buzzing like dying insects.
"What the hell…?"
Picture frames lined the walls.
Families. Children. Places.
All blurred. Smeared. Faces erased.
Memories scrubbed clean.
The whispering started.
Soft. Venomous.
You don't belong here.
Impostor.
Worthless.
I clenched my jaw.
Yeah. Thanks. Heard it before.
But the words dug deeper—old insecurities clawing their way back.
Orion. Poverty. Failure.
The ringing cut through it all.
An old telephone.
A small room at the end of the hall.
Rotary phone. Black. Ancient.
My legs moved without permission.
Smoke thickened.
My hand trembled as I lifted the receiver.
"H-hello?"
Silence.
Then—
A voice.
Velvet-soft. Feminine. Perfect.
"Hello, dear."
Ice flooded my veins.
"I'd like to play a little game with you," she purred. "A game of riddles."
A game.
My thoughts swam.
But she might know something.
Why I was here. How to survive.
"O… okay," I said.
A girlish giggle.
"Guess right, I'll let you escape. Guess wrong…"
Her tone sweetened.
"You'll stay with me forever."
My heart dropped.
"Tell me," she said softly.
"What do you call it when night comes… and the clock strikes twelve?"
Night.
Clock hits twelve.
Mid—
A massive hand clamped over mine.
Cold.
I looked up.
And forgot how to breathe.
She towered over me—veiled in flowing purple robes, starless and deep. Six arms. Four bound behind her with glowing chains. Two free.
One held the phone.
The other—
A scythe.
Divine pressure crushed the air. My knees buckled. Sweat poured. My vision swam.
Pure terror.
She finished my thought.
"Night."
The blade brushed my cheek.
"My dear boy… Leonardo."
She leaned close.
"Are you scared of mommy?"
Midnight.
Lady of the Dark Castle.
Queen.
Goddess.
My tongue failed me.
Her whisper curled around my ear.
"There is no escape. Especially from me."
The world dissolved.
I slammed back onto a couch.
Breathing hard.
The haze was gone.
The library replaced by a vast, gothic apartment.
Leonard's home.
Sunlight cut through tall windows.
Footsteps echoed somewhere above.
I forced myself up and staggered into the bathroom.
Cold water. Face. Breath.
I stared at the mirror.
Leonard stared back.
"…Yeah," I muttered. "This is my life now."
A faint red wisp curled at the mirror's edge.
A giggle echoed.
Soft.
Lingering.
Watching.