Chapter 2 – "The Reflection"
Ren Aldritch awoke on a bed of black silk, surrounded by dark stone walls laced with faint magical engravings. His room was spacious and elegant, yet devoid of warmth—like it had been crafted to mirror his new self: cold, sharp, and commanding.
He opened his eyes slowly—not in shock, but with eerie calm.
Sitting up without a word, he stood and walked toward the tall mirror set beside a shelf of ancient books.
When he saw his reflection, he froze.
Silver-white hair cascaded past his shoulders. His skin was pale like carved marble, and his crimson eyes shimmered with a chilling light.
He raised a hand and touched his face.
"This… isn't my face."
He spoke in a whisper, but his voice carried no fear or disbelief—only a dry, sardonic acceptance.
And then, the memories came.
This body belonged to Ren Aldritch, second son of a feared noble house known for its mastery over death and decay magic. The Aldritch family: brutal, ruthless, silent.
A voice echoed in his mind:
"Born again… in a world not so different from my own."
His previous life—as the heir to a violent mafia empire—had left its scars. Betrayal, bloodshed, vengeance… these were his norms.
Now, he wouldn't need to fake kindness. Or hesitation.
Still, no emotion passed over his face.
No shock.
No wonder.
Not even excitement.
"A new mask… a new face… but the monster remains the same."
He didn't care about those around him.
Not his father, Duke Malphus Aldritch.
Not the castle servants.
Not the imperial family.
He lived not to gain approval—only to destroy and dominate.
He stepped to the window and gazed out at the skies over the imperial capital.
With a faint, chilling smile, he whispered,
"Alright… let the game