"One."
"Two."
Seojin counted the seconds of darkness under his breath.
His room was never this dark.
Even with the curtains drawn or the lights off, there was always a sliver of moonlight through the windows, the glow of his monitor, or the quiet red pulse of his computer's LED.
"Five."
Now, there was no hint of light.
He clenched his fists.
Given that all of the objects and ornaments of his room disappeared, he could not think of any words to describe the situation other than being in a 'void'.
"Seven."
The moment the number left his lips, the lights flickered back on that forced him to blink against the sudden brightness.
He squinted his eyes and blinked rapidly. When the room came into focus…
It was not his.
The dirty bed he used to sleep on had vanished, replaced by a luxurious one with a frame that seemed to be made from narra wood.
The desk covered in soda stains and tangled wires with a gaming chair was replaced by a desk with parchments with intricate symbols like magic circles where one parchment was written with a line of text: 'holy water bucket'.
The cracked white marble wall full of anime and manga characters was gone, replaced by a highly detailed European-style wall designed with fluted pilasters.
But his feet were still in the same position.
"Where am— Yrkkh…"
A sharp pain stabbed through his stomach.
He clutched his stomach as it rumbled as if the body had spent days under an extreme starvation.
Hff.
He sucked in a breath and forced himself to stand still as he tried to stay calm and think rationally.
He pinched his cheeks.
"It hurts…"
He was not dreaming.
But more than that, his fingers did hurt more than his cheeks. Looking at it, a thin wrist and slender fingers met his gaze. He frowned, as though he himself was skinny back on Earth as a perk of having the genes of a model, he was not this frail.
Even he, himself, could barely believe it. He had read enough cliche novels to know this much and this exact situation he had experienced.
"...Transmigration?"
It was when a person's soul ended up in another body. It was also a fantasy concept that he had never thought that would happen to him.
Cough.
He coughed again.
When he pulled his hand away, blood stained his palm.
"Fudge."
He did not entirely hate the idea of transmigrating especially since this was his favorite novel. But ending up in a body that was in even worse health than his own was a different story.
Growl.
Ignoring the hunger gnawing at his stomach and the dull throb in his head, he made his way toward a bucket of water.
There was no mirror in the room, but the water's surface might at least give him a glimpse of his reflection.
Step.
As he walked, a strange sensation tickled at his brain with each step. Every movement felt disjointed, as if there was a tiny delay between his intention and his body's response.
A millisecond lag.
But the more he moved, the more it faded.
Step.
Step by step, the delay gradually disappeared.
He took another deep breath and stopped in front of the bucket filled with clear water. Leaning forward, he watched as faint ripples formed on the surface, even though the bucket had not moved.
A reflection stared back at him.
Espresso colored hair.
Ashen blue eyes.
Sharp features with a hint of aristocracy but not exactly breathtaking or the kind that would make people stop in their tracks and gasp, 'Oh my! He's so handsome!'
But, one thing was for sure.
He knew this face.
It was from his favorite novel.
"Sev—"
Before he could finish, a holographic window, just like the ones in games, suddenly flashed before his eyes.
|| Synchronization Complete ||
|| Registering Reader #??? ||
|| Seven Hart registered on the House of Fate ||
Seven Hart.
The seventh son of the seventh Archduke of the seventh Kingdom within the Seventh Continent. A character whose only purpose in the novel was to die seven minutes after his introduction.
It was the face staring back at him.
More than that, he could recall the term House of Fate back in the novel. It was mentioned that it was the record of all information be it from past, present, and future.
In short, it was more like Akashic Records in its own way.
Aside from it, Seojin looked at the air with a blank expression.
'Status.'
He thought.
It was the cliche word that triggered the information system back in many games and novels, but he only thought of it as saying it out loud was simply just embarrassing.
|| Basic Information ||
|| Character: Seven Hart ||
Slowly, he squeezed his eyes shut.
He prayed that when he would open them again, he would find himself back in his miserable room and hope that this was just a cruel trick played by his exhausted mind.
He was tired of being an extra in his own life, thus there was no way he wanted to be one here too.
But when he opened them again, nothing changed.
|| Basic Information ||
|| Character: Seven Hart ||
|| Age: 15 ||
|| Talent: Highly Unpredictable ||
He was still here.
Still trapped in the body of an extra and the Sevenfold World he had only ever read about.
His pulse pounded in his ears.
He had spent years reading, dissecting, and analyzing this story until he knew every twist and turn, every hidden plot, and every miserable fate.
Only to, again, end up as Seven Hart.
An error.
A piece of shi— character rather, that was never meant to exist.
A disposable background character.
"Seven minutes..."
Cough.
He coughed again, followed by a bitter laugh.
"How should I surv—"
|| You have received the gift: Protagonist System ||
"...Right. A cliche plot, indeed."
He stared at the floating holographic screen, his lips slightly parted but no words came out.
After a moment, he closed them again.
"Since no transmigration is complete without a system."
|| Complete protagonist conditions to solidify your role ||
This was not in the original story.
There was no System in the Seventy Seventh Seven he had read.
But right now, inconsistencies did not matter. If this system could help him survive, if it could rewrite the fate of the character he had possessed, then he would do whatever it took.
Still, not everything presented before him was clear.
"Protagonist Conditions…?"
|| Progression Quest: End is a Beginning ||
|| Preparation Time: 7 Minutes ||
|| Objective: Survive your scripted death and prove your existence to the story ||
|| Reward: Exclusive Trait for Reader #??? ||
|| Failure: Character Erasure ||
"It just means death…"
He forced himself to breathe.
In.
Out.
Until the new air no longer burned his lungs.
The seconds were slipping away, and he did not have enough time to enjoy the luxury of living a new life.
There was no training arc to help him, but just a ticking clock and a fate already written in ink.
|| Remaining Time: 6 Minutes and 59 Seconds ||
The countdown began.