Darkness. Silence. A dull ache pulsed through his skull like a loop, and the scent of burning incense choked his lungs. It felt smoky inside.
Seul-gi jolted awake, gasping, his chest heaving. Sweat clung to his skin, cold and damp. His heart beating fast , he hear his pulse bellowing. His surroundings swam in and out of focus — shelves lined with arcane tomes, dim crystal lights humming, and parchment-covered tables stained with ink and ash. This wasn't his bedroom. This wasn't his world.
He tried to rise but the wave of nausea crashed over him like a flood. He leaned over and vomited beneath the desk. His body — thin, bony, taller — moved stiffly. It didn't feel like his own.
His hands trembled as he raised them to his face. These fingers were long, elegant, almost scholarly. He flexed them slowly, trying to feel the familiarity of his own movements. They didn't respond the way he expected. It was as though he were wearing a costume of flesh that didn't belong to him.
Panic settled in as he clawed and grasped at his chest. His heartbeat was steady but foreign, calm, too deep. He stumbled to a tall mirror propped against the bookshelf. The man staring back had glistening blue eyes, short brown Har with white stripes of hair, and a nobleman's angular face. Etched onto the collar of his robe was a sigil: a seven-pointed star inside a hexagon — the seal of the Mage Tower.
"Leo... Vlaniz...?" the name escaped his lips before he realized he knew it.
He blinked. The sound of the name triggered something — not a memory, not exactly. More like a sensation, a pressure in his head that pulsed and whispered. Memories — not his — poured in like trickling water. Formal meetings. Magical theory. Parents. Tower politics. A goblet of wine. The taste of poison. Then... silence.
He stumbled back from the mirror, mind reeling. The scene of a banquet appeared in his thoughts — dozens of faces, some smiling, some wary. The clinking of glasses. The weight of a speech he couldn't recall giving. The aftertaste of bitterness on the tongue. Then darkness.
He gasped, staggered backward, and gripped the table.
He wasn't dreaming. He was Leo Vlaniz now — or rather, he was in Leo's body. But why? Why him? Why now?
His thoughts spiraled. He had read about transmigration in fiction, seen it mocked in satire. But living it? Feeling the weight of an unfamiliar identity coil around his soul? What if never returns?
The panic slowly faded into an eerie calm. His mind, trained by years of logic and analysis, began compartmentalizing the madness. First he remembers was eating his kimchi. He walked back and forth. Then this Brain sparked.
"Okay," he whispered. "I remember I went to a music concert then an earthquake happened. I woke up here. And now I'm someone else."
Wait. Earthquake. He tried to regain some details. I remember the ceiling falling down the exit blocked and… Ergghhh. I touched my head with my fingertips. I don't remember anything else maybe I died.
He looked around again, this time more carefully. The books on the shelves were old — bindings of dragonhide, titles etched in glowing runes. Many in languages he didn't recognize, others in Mycondian. Papers strewn across the floor bore diagrams of magical arrays. One page fluttered in the breeze leaking through the shattered glass.
A sound interrupted his thoughts.
Knock. Knock.
He turned toward the arched window. His heartbeat accelerated.
Another knock. Not from the door. From the window.
Knock. Knock.
Before he could react, the window exploded with a deafening crash. Shards of crystal glass flew inward, glinting in the candlelight. A figure — cloaked in black, face hidden beneath a veil of shadows — leapt through the frame. The glass scattered some sliding to my feet
An assassin.
Seul-gi's body froze. His thoughts spiraled.
Magic. Do something. Anything.
But his body didn't respond. He didn't know how. He had no sword. No spells. No way to fight. What was he to do. Transmigration and immediately dying no way!
The assassin's dagger glinted as it arced downward.
"No—!"
He flipped backwards on instinct.
A ripple spread through his chest. Cold, dark, like a shiver rolling through his soul.
Then the air split. Gales of wind gathered. Sweat trickled from my neck. A shiver.
From Seul-gi's shadow, a figure emerged — tall, undefined, swathed in endless black. It moved with the silence of death, raising a finger as if commanding reality itself.
A torrent of black and blue flame spiraled from its hand.
The assassin was engulfed mid-air — there was no scream, no struggle. Just ash. The fire was bright as a candle. Leo's eyes widened
The shadow stood beside Seul-gi, gaze unreadable. Time seemed to bend around it. His senses were hazy.
He crawled backward instinctively, knocking over a stack of books. His breath was ragged.
"What... what the hell are you?"
The figure slowly turned to him. Its presence felt ancient — like space bending to accommodate it. Icicles circled around him with small water droplets.
"I am Noir," it spoke without moving lips. The words echoed from somewhere inside his mind. "The Interference. A will of the Dimensions. " it swirled in the air it looked like a spirit from the memories of Leo Vlaniz.
"What do you mean... Dimensions?"
"You were chosen," Noir replied. "And now the interference has begun."
A silence lingered. Only the crackle of dying embers from the magical backlash filled the space. There was a sound and Leo turned back. It was a plant growing from a vase almost touching the ceiling.
Seul-gi forced himself to stand. He looked down at his hand.
It was glowing.
Tiny flickers of light — blue, green, white — danced across his palm. The energy hummed like a living thing. Lightning sparks. He looked up at Noir. He looked like a cat almost with a small body with a crimson red aura. He was snapping his fingers with flames on this fingertips.
He clenched his fist. His fingertips felt dry
"Wait, do you know about my transmigration"
Noir gave no answer. But the way the shadows leaned in closer felt like approval.
Beyond the broken window, the stars seemed to pulse — as if the world had taken a breath, waiting.
Fate was to be changed. But it chains down everybody how can it change. Power. Power stronger than fate it self.
___________________________________________________________________________________
A man shrouded in darkness. Wearing a suit and tie lie a pianist. His dark blue hair grazed his shoulders. Suddenly a candle began to light up. His lips curled to make a smile.
He then gently cured his hands hovering above the candle. He felt warmth rushing in his blood his pale face seemed to have twitched.
He sensed the warmth in their see a human figure moving, He felt an emotion burning in his heart hope. Hope what a devilish demon. He laughed filled with madness.
His eyes gazed up to the endless universe "Hope".