A white light burned his eyelids before he even realized where he was.
Mark gasped sharply. His lungs betrayed him: every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. The steady beep of a heart monitor echoed in the silence.
A hospital.
But not the one he knew.
He tried to move—his arms responded, but they were not his own. The veins, the fingers, the too-pale skin… everything felt foreign. A cold panic crawled up his spine.
When he opened his eyes, a modern ceiling with ornate moldings came into view. To his right, a large window revealed a dense city, bristling with towers and advertising panels. Paris? No. The signs were in English, German, sometimes French. A hybrid metropolis, somewhere between Luxembourg and Zurich.
Then a trembling female voice cut the silence:
"Marcus? You… you're awake?"
He turned his head. An elegant woman in her fifties stepped toward him. Beige suit, anxious gaze. She was crying—but beneath the tears, he sensed something else: shame.
"Who… are you?" he stammered.
Her eyes widened.
"It's me, your mother… you don't recognize your mother, Marcus?"
The name hit his consciousness like a thunderclap. Marcus?
He wanted to speak, but a translucent screen appeared before him, floating in the air like a hologram:
---
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED: RELAUNCH]
User: Mark Delorme
Host Body: Marcus Dumar
Time Remaining Before Erasure: 365 days
Objective: Become Supreme CEO of Dumar Capital.
Initial Tasks Available:
1. Read the bankruptcy file.
2. Identify a reliable ally.
3. Survive the first 72 hours.
---
Mark stared at the text, dumbfounded. His breath caught. The screen vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving a faint hum in the air.
Everything returned in fragments.
The accident. The screech of metal. The light. Then the void.
He was no longer Mark Delorme, financial analyst in Lyon.
He was Marcus Dumar, heir to a collapsed empire.
---
The next hours blurred in medical haze. Doctors, journalists, guards. He was made to sign documents without explanation. Every word, every glance around him radiated unease.
When he finally left the hospital, camera flashes blinded him. Outside, a swarm of reporters pressed in.
"Marcus! A word for the press!"
"Is it true your family removed you from the board?"
"How do you respond to fraud allegations?"
Mark—or Marcus—froze. He understood nothing, yet everyone seemed to know him.
The morning woman—his supposed mother—leaned close and whispered:
"Don't say anything. Not a single wrong word. The stocks are already falling."
He followed the procession in silence. At the back of a black limousine, he studied his reflection in the tinted glass: a younger, sharper face, piercing blue eyes. No doubt—this was not him.
Another man. Another life.
---
The family manor awaited him on the outskirts of the city, vast and silent. Upon entering, tension thickened the air: an impromptu dinner, closed-off faces, and oppressive silence.
"Marcus," said an older man in a three-piece suit, voice cutting. "You shouldn't have come back without notice."
"I…"
"Save your words," he snapped. "The press is already spinning your 'miracle.' Your father entrusted you with one subsidiary, and you led it to bankruptcy."
The words hit like slaps. Mark realized it wasn't just disgrace. This man, evidently an uncle or administrator, despised him.
Another added:
"The board officially strips you of all executive power. You have no access to offices or accounts."
A thunderstorm erupted in his mind. The SYSTEM screen briefly reappeared:
> [Task Updated: "Survive Public Disgrace"]
Potential Reward: Passive Skill – Composure (Level 1)
He drew a deep breath. The eyes around the table felt suffocating.
A nervous laugh escaped one cousin.
"You fancied yourself a financial genius, Marcus. Result? Debts, lawsuits, and a shattered reputation."
Mark stayed motionless. Part of him burned to scream the truth—that he was not who they thought. But the SYSTEM pulsed in his mind, a silent warning: do not break cover.
He stood without a word.
"All right," he said calmly. "If I have nothing here, I'll find it elsewhere."
Whispers erupted instantly. Some laughed, others stared with pity.
But in his eyes, a cold spark had been lit.
---
That night, he wandered alone through an abandoned suite in the manor. The family portraits seemed to judge him. In front of a large mirror, he studied this new body, then murmured:
"If I have 365 days, I'll use them. All of them."
The screen reappeared, confirming the thought:
> [SYSTEM: Main Mission Activated]
Primary Objective: Rebuild Marcus Dumar's legitimacy.
Time Remaining: 364 days, 23 hours, 58 minutes.
A slight smile curved his lips.
He had no idea how far this game would go, nor who watched behind the SYSTEM.
But one thing was certain: in this family of predators, he would learn quickly how to bite.
The first day of the countdown had begun.