Dave's POV
I pulled the car into the circular drive of the Moreno Villa, the tires crunching over the immaculate gravel. I killed the engine and sat for a moment in the sudden silence, the ghost of her grip still tight around my neck.
Handing the keys to a waiting valet, I strode toward the entrance, my steps echoing in the vast foyer. A glance at the antique clock on the marble wall told me it was just after five. She should better be on her way by now.
I should have dragged her. I should have thrown her over my shoulder, ignored her threats, and locked her in the damn car. That's what the Dave of this world would have done. It's what the situation demanded
But I couldn't.
Her face. The same sharp intelligence in the eyes, the same defiant set of the jaw. Seeing that face here, twisted in anger and fear directed at me, had been a physical blow. I couldn't bear to be the cause of that hurt, even in this borrowed skin, even if she had no idea who I was.
Even if she isn't the actual same person i am in love with.
But right now, i have another issue to deal with. Dominic.
"I'll be in my room," he said, his tone casual but leaving a hook of unresolved tension in the air.
He headed for the grand staircase, and I watched him go, my mind racing. How do you ask someone, 'Hey, are you also a soul from another world trapped in this novel?' Especially when that someone is supposed to be your ruthlessly pragmatic brother.
I followed him up the sweeping stairs. Our rooms were on separate floors—a deliberate design choice of the original owners. I was on the third floor, Dominic on the second.
In the memories I'd inherited, the reasoning was clear: maximum privacy and a clean, unspoken rule to avoid territorial disputes over…their 'special' guests. They had a code: you never touched a woman your brother had laid. Its like an insult and stain to their image. I despised their entire lifestyle, this calculated hedonism, but my opinion was irrelevant. Dex, my glowing, winged jailer, had drilled that into me before I'd even left the house earlier that i shouldn't do anything out of character.
I reached the second-floor landing and paused, watching as Dominic turned down the long, opulently quiet hallway. He reached his door, opened it, and disappeared inside without a backward glance.
I stood there for a moment.
Moving quietly, I walked down the hall to his door. I remembered the specs from the memories that rooms can be sound proof. Still, some foolish hope made me lean in, pressing my ear against the cool, unyielding surface.
Nothing. Just the low hum of my own blood in my ears and the profound, expensive silence of a place built to keep secrets in.
I pulled back from the door, my mind a war zone. Should I really take this risk? If he wasn't like me, the worst that could happen was he'd think I'd lost my mind. could play it off as a strange dream.
Just as I steeled myself and raised my hand to knock, the door swung inward.
Dominic stood there, already changed out of his suit into dark lounge pants and a simple shirt. His eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Dave? What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk," I said, keeping my voice level.
That left him completely stunned. He blinked, then slowly stepped back, making way for me to enter. "Okay. Come in, then."
I walked into his space. It was as vast as mine, a testament to Moreno wealth, but the atmosphere was different. Where my inherited room was all cold, minimalist lines and stark art, Dominic's had more texture. The lights were warmer, the furniture slightly more lived-in, though it still screamed sleek, modern luxury. A large, abstract painting in deep blues and greys dominated one wall, and I noticed a high-end guitar propped in a corner—a detail that didn't exist in the novel's description of the ruthless playboy.
He closed the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms. "You've been behaving strangely since you woke up," he stated, getting straight to the point. "And this is actually the first time you've ever set foot in my room. What's going on?"
I met his gaze. The cold, detached mask was there, but underneath, I could see a sharp, burning curiosity.
"I've just been feeling... weird," I started, choosing my words with intentional vagueness. "I had a strange dream. Right before I woke up today."
His eyebrow twitched, the only sign of interest. "What kind of dream?"
I paced a few steps, turning my back to him to sell the performance of being unsettled. "I saw myself. But it wasn't really me. I was living an entirely different life. In a different... world. It felt hyper-real. More like a memory than a dream."
I turned back to face him, watching his reaction closely. "I don't understand why I was shown that. Part of me thinks it could be some kind of psychic attack, a setup from an enemy. But the motive doesn't fit."
I let the silence hang for a beat. "But when I saw how you were acting today...I figured maybe you could have had a strange dream, too."
Dominic's gaze flicked away from mine. His posture stayed relaxed, but the evasion was as clear as a flinch.
"That's… really very strange," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "But I didn't have any dream like that. Honestly, it sounds like you should talk to Father about it. Maybe it's something one of his business rivals orchestrated. A psychic probe to unsettle us. It makes sense."
He was lying. I could feel it in the too-even tone, in the way he refused to meet my eyes.
"Are you sure?" I pressed, my voice dropping.
"Yes," he said firmly, finally looking at me, his expression all cool certainty. "It's probably just that."
I'd been wrong. Or he was a better actor than I'd thought. Either way, pushing further now would be dangerous. Dex's warnings echoed in my head.
"Right," I said, letting my shoulders slump slightly in feigned acceptance. "Maybe you're right. I won't pursue it."
Dominic gave a short nod, seemingly relieved to have the awkward conversation concluded. He moved to open the door for me, a clear dismissal.
And that's when it happened.
The air beside Dominic shimmered, coalescing into a familiar form. A creature materialized, hovering at his shoulder. It was almost identical to my guide, Dex—the same humanoid, doll-like proportions. But where Dex had four sharp, blue wings, this one's were a deep, verdant green.
I heard its voice, a soft, congratulatory chime that seemed to vibrate in the air itself. "You did a good job, Dom. After he leaves, you can then get your reward."
Dominic's hand was on the door handle. He didn't react to the voice. He didn't see the green-winged guide floating right next to his ear. He just looked at me, expecting me to leave.
My own shock must have been written plain across my face. My eyes were locked not on him, but on the glowing creature behind him.
Dominic followed my stare. He turned his head, his eyes tracking to the empty space where, to me, there should have been nothing. Then his gaze snapped back to my horrified expression. I watched as his own face underwent from polite confusion, to dawning horror.
Our eyes met again. In that frozen, silent second, all the lies and performances fell away.
We spoke at the same time, our voices hushed with identical disbelief.
"You're a transmigrator."