Am I dead?
Like—actually dead?
All I see is pitch black. No sound. No smell. Just darkness. I'm walking and walking, and it's like there's no end. No doors. No light. Just… nothing.
Is this hell?
No flames. No creepy monsters. No demon holding a clipboard with my sins.
So maybe not.
Then suddenly—bam—there's a light.
And like any horror-movie idiot with zero survival instincts, I walked toward it. Because apparently I have no self-preservation. Let's just go into the random glowing portal, why not?
But before I could touch it, my head spun. Hard. Like I just rode a rollercoaster after eating five plates of buffet. Then it felt like I was falling.
Not just tripping. I mean falling—long, fast, like I stepped on life's trapdoor.
Then everything went white.
And I woke up.
Gasping.
Sweating.
Feeling like I'd just escaped from a cursed Jollibee mascot in my dreams.
I sat up and blinked.
And froze.
Because—what the actual hell is this room?
It's massive. High ceilings. Velvet curtains. Gold accents everywhere. Like someone made a room based on the Pinterest search term "rich people in fantasy land."
I'm lying on a bed so big it could host a sleepover with twelve people and still have space for trauma.
And then… I saw it.
A huge-ass painting on the wall.
Of a man.
A stupidly handsome man.
Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. Hair that's half black, half white—like someone said "make him sexy AND mysterious" and the universe delivered. He looked like one of those princes in fantasy novels girls fall for, even if he has serious red flags and unresolved trauma.
And here's the worst part: he looks like me.
Like... exactly like me.
"No. Freaking. Way," I muttered.
Where am I?
Am I still dreaming?
Did I wake up in a Wattpad fic? Is this what happens when you die slipping on a banana peel? You respawn as a royal with commitment issues?
I looked down.
Robes.
Silk, heavy, embroidered like someone hand-stitched every insecurity I've ever had into gold thread. The collar's so tight I can't breathe properly. I look like I'm about to attend a royal execution. Mine.
"What is this? Cosplay? Historical drama? Is this a prank?" I whisper-shouted to myself.
I stood up, and my slippers were soft. Velvet. With embroidery. I have royal slippers.
Me. The guy who used to wear mismatched socks. And now I have velvet slippers. Life, what are you doing?
I wandered around the room, confused, until I saw a massive walk-in closet.
Because of course I have a walk-in closet.
I went in, hoping to find a plain shirt and some sanity. But instead, I accidentally pressed a weird button.
Click.
Part of the wall opened.
"Secret passage? Are you kidding me?" I whispered. "What is this, Narnia but with trauma?"
Inside the secret room: a glowing full-length mirror.
I stepped closer.
And stopped.
Because staring back at me… was the prince.
Or rather—me.
Just to be sure I'm not hallucinating, I raise an eyebrow. He copies me.
And because my brain is clearly fried, I start dancing. Yep. "Gentleman" by PSY. Full dance break.
Because why not?
I wave my arms. I pop my shoulders. I smirk like a TikTok thirst trap.
He does it all, perfectly in sync.
"This is so stupid," I mutter, still halfway through the chorus.
But here's the thing: I've seen enough webtoons, webnovels and reincarnation stories to know what this is.
I died.
Thanks to a damn banana peel.
And now?
This isn't my body.
It feels like mine. But it's not. Something's off. I don't remember having a scar on my collarbone. Or this smooth of skin. Or this... posture.
I step back, heart suddenly pounding.
"What the hell is happening?" I whisper. "Am I possessed? Is this a prank show?"
No answer.
Just me and my maybe-not-me reflection.
I walk back to the room, half-panicking. I open drawers. Nothing familiar. I search for my phone—there's none. I check my pockets—just a handkerchief and what looks like a royal seal.
"Great. No signal. No phone. No sanity."
I sit down on the bed again.
Deep breath.
Let's recap:
I died. (Pretty sure.)
Woke up in a strange place.
In a body that isn't mine… but also is mine?
"Did I reincarnate?" I say out loud, like an idiot.
The chandelier doesn't respond.
No system notification. No floating tutorial guide. Not even a single glowing orb telling me what quest to start.
I flop back on the bed.
"This better not be isekai. I didn't even get to choose my stats."