"Wait… what?"
That was what the Korean young man whispered as he sat on a couch. He was very tall—around 6'3"—with muscles that clearly showed he trained regularly, reinforced by the football shirt bearing the logo of a local team and the athletic pants he wore. His neatly kept black hair, handsome brown eyes, and fairly good-looking face stood out, though he was extremely pale.
Just moments ago, he had been in his room—and in the blink of an eye, he now found himself in a place resembling a void. There was nothing but darkness, except for a red carpet beneath him.
"I said what I said. I won't repeat it."
The words came from the man sitting across from him. He was enormous—an absolute giant. Song could see every inch of his body clearly. The man was nearly 7'8", with a powerful jaw, a hooked Roman nose, and small blue eyes that gave him a terrifying appearance. His hair was blue, almost silver, flowing down to his chest.
His neck and shoulders were a masterpiece of dense, refined muscle. His arms were so tense that his veins were visible, his legs stretched powerfully with clearly defined quadriceps. His torso was carved with sculpted abdominal muscles, and his chest was massive, full, with coin-sized nipples. At its center hung a beautiful necklace, radiating a blue light.
He wore nothing but a pure white loincloth, held by a golden belt that concealed his hips.
The man was striking—almost mesmerizing—but Song felt only fear. He had no time to be impressed. He tried to calm himself.
He recalled the last five hours. He had been in his room after a long day of work, reading a novel… and then he was here, facing a man who had asked him:
"You want to inhabit my body?"
The man smiled calmly and continued in a gentle voice that only terrified Song more.
"I assure you—that is exactly what I said. Any other questions?"
Before Song could react, trembling, the giant laughed softly and spoke with warmth:
"Don't worry, my boy. This is your choice. You may return home."
Song looked at him eagerly—then hesitated, thinking. He asked irritably:
"Will I still be alive?"
The man burst into loud laughter, his massive chest shaking. Song turned away in disgust, muttering to himself, Put on some clothes, you perverted old man.
Then he turned back, and for the first time in five hours, his face hardened. He saw the giant smiling.
"Who are you?"
Song finally asked. He had been standing before this man in the void for five hours and still hadn't known what to ask. Perhaps the man was connected to mythology or something similar—
His eyes widened when he heard the answer. His body trembled.
That was impossible.
"I am King Azeron."
He said it casually, leaning back.
Song froze. Impossible. Unthinkable. He trembled, pointing a shaking finger before nearly collapsing.
"Ah—no way. You're joking."
Then he laughed quietly, covering his face.
The novel he had been reading before sleep—that novel. Azeron was one of its main characters. He couldn't believe this situation.
He remembered the story well. An anthology novel.
A great and powerful king, unmatched by any force, ruling a kingdom in the far north, feared by all. He summoned a young man from another world and offered him absolute power. That young man was the protagonist of only the first three chapters—before he withdrew.
Then the king summoned another. Then another. Nine young men in total. Every one of them had read the story before him. Every one of them accepted, tempted by power.
"You must have read my book."
King Azeron said mockingly. A book appeared from nothing, floating around Song. At least now he understood where it came from.
"Hah… I didn't know I was that creative. Look—there's even an analyst who interpreted it. I don't even understand what he means. He says the transformation of the young men symbolizes the corruption of the soul and morality through excessive power and constant torment, leading to rage. I don't get it."
Song stared at him sharply, annoyed—yet at the same time, he felt excitement surge through him. His breathing quickened. His heart pounded.
All those damn reincarnation novels… I used to think, if I were them—
But now I really am.
"I see you're hesitating. That's strange. The previous young man refused outright."
"So if I agree, I'll become you whenever I wish? I'll have your kingdom, your armies, your power, your magic—that's what I understand."
"Correct. I won't stop you. But I won't help you either. You'll keep your own mind and personality. That's good."
"That doesn't sound very appealing—especially with the excessive flaws of this body."
The king raised his muscular arm and flexed proudly.
"Ha! I know—I'm far too powerful. There's no woman who's seen me and not desired me."
Song shuddered. This disgusting old man was truly irritating. The thought of beautiful women around him filled him with revulsion.
Song had dreamed of a fantasy world—but this one felt different. Should he leave?
He thought this was the safer path. But the power… Azeron's power was described as limitless—the strongest being in his world. Vast wealth. A kingdom. An army.
Yet every power had a price.
"Every question the previous young men asked—I'll ask the same ones, right?"
"Yes. Nothing changes. You'll be in my body, in my kingdom, with full authority. You may leave whenever you wish—on the condition that you abandon what you love most."
"I don't understand. Aren't you afraid someone might betray you? Or kill someone dear to you?"
This question had never been asked before. Azeron looked at him with disdain.
"Tch. I have no one dear to me. No wife. No children. I possess power that shakes the stars. I've moved mountains. Slaughtered armies."
"Yeah, I've heard. You froze an entire city, blah blah blah. Queens sent you marriage proposals."
"Ah, thank you. I didn't want to continue."
"You just want to watch us try to be you—and fail—so you can laugh. You're really annoying."
"As I said, I'm merely experimenting."
Song looked at the king in irritation.
"What are you trying to prove?"
Azeron only smiled calmly—that irritating smile—so Song continued:
"Then… give me five minutes."
"Take your time, my boy."
The giant said, clearly enjoying the sight of Song thinking. Song wanted to ask why he was doing this—but remembered that all of them had asked, and all had received the same answer: experiments.
So Song thought quietly—and found a new question.
"Are you… bored?"
"Yes. Very."
Song was shocked by the honesty. That blunt sincerity was what had made him admire Azeron in the first place.
Despite being the strongest being in his world, Azeron had no wife, no children, no relatives, no hobbies. He had mastered everything. He appeared to be in his sixties.
Song wanted to clarify one final point.
"Your Majesty… if I leave, what happens?"
"I'll choose someone else."
Song felt his heart tighten.
"You want power, don't you? But don't you remember what happened to the last young man—the smart one who asked to write everything down as a warning?"
The king scoffed.
Song understood. This was a once-in-a-lifetime choice. Infinite power—or return home.
Each young man had been different, from different countries—but what united them was their kindness.
Song wanted to leave. He remembered the pain and suffering of those before him.
But he had to do something.
"Do you want it—or not?"
"Ah… I know this is stupid, but I have to agree. There's something I must do."
"Hm. You say that to convince yourself."
"Yes. I want it badly, you old man."
Azeron clapped, amused.
"You're very rude. I like that. But tell me—do you truly want to be me?"
Song raised his hand, remembering a handshake.
"I have a goal. And I want your power."
"Heh. No need to be so arrogant. Let's see how long you last."
Azeron grabbed Song's hand tightly. Blue light erupted.
Song took a breath—
It's happening.
Then the king stabbed him in the chest with a knife.
Why couldn't he choose another method?
And then—
Song opened his eyes…
in the other world