Pain.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not the sharp, clean kind from a quick hit, but the heavy, crushing ache that spreads through your body after a fight you know you lost. My ribs felt like they had been stepped on. My jaw throbbed. Even breathing hurt.
For a moment, I stayed still, waiting for the sound of the crowd.
The shouting.The referee.The smell of sweat and blood.
Nothing came.
Instead, there was silence.
Soft silence.
And a strange smell — something sweet, like flowers.
My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced them open. Slowly. Carefully.
Light flooded in.
I blinked once. Then again.
The ceiling above me wasn't cracked concrete or gym lights. It was smooth, white, and decorated with golden patterns. Expensive patterns. The kind rich people put in places they want others to admire.
I frowned.
"...Am I alive?" I muttered, my voice dry.
My throat hurt when I spoke. I swallowed and tried again, whispering to myself.
"I thought I was dead… after the last punch that monster threw at me."
The memory flashed in my head — the ring, the crowd roaring, my opponent's fist flying straight toward my face. I remembered the impact. The darkness swallowing everything.
That should have been the end.
So why was I here?
I pushed myself up slowly from the bed, wincing as pain shot through my body. The mattress beneath me was soft — far too soft for a fighter's room.
My eyes scanned the surroundings.
Large room.Polished wooden furniture.Heavy curtains.Carpets thick enough to sink your feet into.
Everything screamed luxury.
"Why am I at such a fancy place?" I whispered.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood up.
And immediately froze.
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
I looked down at my body.
My arms looked longer. My shoulders wider. My chest bigger. My perspective felt… higher.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
"Had my height grown?" I muttered.
I shook my head quickly.
"No… that's not possible."
My heart started beating faster.
Then I saw it.
A mirror.
It stood against the wall across the room, tall and polished. My reflection was waiting there — silent, unfamiliar.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, I walked toward it.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
When I finally stood in front of the mirror, my breath caught in my throat.
The face staring back at me wasn't mine.
It was young. Handsome. Sharp features. Dark hair falling over the forehead. A small bruise near the jaw. Eyes cold and unfamiliar.
I touched my face.
The reflection did the same.
For a few seconds, my mind went completely blank.
Then panic hit.
"What happened to me?!" I shouted.
My voice echoed through the room.
"Where am I?! Is this heaven… or am I reincarnated?!"
My breathing became fast and uneven. I leaned closer to the mirror, staring at the stranger's face as if it would suddenly change back into my own.
Then a memory surfaced.
A story.
A character.
A name.
My eyes widened.
"Don't tell me…" I whispered.
My voice trembled.
"No… no… no… no…"
The realization crashed into me like another punch.
"Am I reincarnated into a villain from the manga The Heavenly Hero?!"
Silence filled the room for half a second.
Then I screamed again.
"SHIT!"
At that exact moment, the door burst open.
A tall man in formal clothes rushed inside. He had neat gray hair, a calm face, and the posture of someone who had served nobles his entire life.
The butler.
He looked at me with concern.
"Have you awakened, Kaen-sama?" he asked respectfully. "We heard shouting. Did something happen?"
I froze.
Kaen.
That name confirmed everything.
I forced myself to take a slow breath. My racing thoughts settled, just enough for me to regain control.
"No," I said, steadying my voice. "Nothing happened."
The butler studied my face carefully, his expression gentle but cautious.
"Are you truly alright, young master?" he asked.
For a moment, I almost laughed.
No, I wasn't alright.
I had died.Woken up in another body.And apparently become a villain from a manga.
But instead, I simply nodded.
"Yeah," I replied. "I'm fine."
The butler bowed slightly.
"Very well, young master. Your father has given orders to bring you to him as soon as you wake."
Father.
That word felt strange in my ears.
I turned toward him, trying to keep my voice calm.
"What time is it?"
The butler answered without hesitation.
"It is the year 332 A.D., young master."
My heart skipped a beat.
332 A.D.
My mind started racing.
The timeline.The story.The events.
Then the horrifying truth settled in.
I slowly looked down at my hands.
"…Am I reincarnated mid-game?"
The realization hit harder than any punch I had ever taken.
My jaw tightened.
And under my breath, barely loud enough to hear, I muttered:
"Fuuuuuck."