Oliver, who was sleeping peacefully, suddenly sat upright, holding his chest and gasping for air.
His heavy heartbeat was clearly audible in the silent room as he panted like he had run a marathon.
"A nightmare…?" he muttered, half relieved and half in disbelief. "No… that fall…"
He clutched his chest, expecting blood or something, but instead he felt soft fabric, which made him pause.
"What the—?" He looked down only to freeze as he saw his fair and smooth hands. Hands that might belong to a guy who had probably never done any hard work. These were not hands someone like him would have.
Lifting his head, Oliver looked around and was dumbfounded.
This wasn't his room.
It was no longer his small apartment; there was no laundry scattered on the floor, nor the moldy smell of leftover food.
Instead, it looked like one of the rooms he had once visited when he met his boss.
"This… did I drink too much?" Oliver couldn't help but ask as he looked around the luxurious room.
"Or was I a hidden heir?" he joked to himself as he stood up from the bed and walked toward the mirror.
"I am really drunk…" Oliver mumbled, touching his face. The reflection showed an exotic-looking guy—one you'd see in some anime.
White hair, an overly handsome face that would make girls fall for him if he just smiled at them, and deep purple eyes that only added more charm to his already handsome appearance.
"Just what is happening…?" Oliver whispered, looking more closely at the mirror's reflection.
But suddenly, out of nowhere, a flood of memories assaulted his mind. It was both how his last life ended and how this current guy lost his life.
After digesting all the memories and calming himself down, he looked at his hand and then at his reflection and bitterly muttered:
"So… I really did die."
He was no longer Oliver. That Oliver died from the crash, and now he had taken over the body of this guy. His name now was—Corvus Neil.
"To think all those isekai novels I read to de-stress my mind were real…" Corvus smiled, now more happy than confused. He didn't care he died—his last life was hell. He was just a normal 24/7 worker drone there.
But this world… it was magical, like the fantasy novels he had read.
Suddenly feeling something, Corvus raised his right hand. There, glowing on the back of his palm, was a rune—shimmering in prismatic colors, constantly shifting hues like oil on water.
"This is…?"
He recalled all the memories from Corvus and understood what this was. It was the mark of a Mystic Rune—or more specifically, a Lord Rune, identified by its crown-shaped design.
In this world, Mystic Runes came in two types:
Lord Runes, shaped like crowns, allowed their bearers to access the Mystic Realm and claim a domain there—building, expanding, and even conquering others' domains.
Adventurer Runes, which could manifest as swords, staves, armor, or anything but a crown shape. Those with Adventurer Runes could only enter the Mystic Realm by serving under a Lord Rune wielder—as servants.
But they never minded, as the Mystic Realm was so special that they were willing to be servants just to go there.
Mystic Runes were also ranked in five tiers for both categories:
Iron (Grey) – the lowest potentialBronzeSilver – average for most talented individualsGoldPlatinum – legendary, nearly mythic
Silver was considered average. Anything lower was trash. Anything higher was genius.
And yet… Corvus stared at his own rune, confused. It wasn't any color type from Corvus's memories.
It was totally different—prismatic.
Something the original Corvus had never learned about.
"What the hell does this mean?" he muttered.
As he touched the rune again, a stream of information surged into his mind. In an instant, he understood—his Talent.
Each Mystic Rune, no matter the type, granted its wielder a Talent, and the rank of one's Rune determined its strength and versatility.
And as for Corvus…
"I have… two talents?" he whispered, stunned.
And then an expression of pity appeared on his face.
"Poor guy…"
He recalled the last moments of Corvus before he died.
In this world, most people awakened their Mystic Rune at the age of sixteen. If they failed to do so by their seventeenth birthday, their chances of awakening dropped to almost zero. Even then, only 80% ever awakened, and within that group, only 20% received a Lord-class Rune.
Today had been the original Corvus's seventeenth birthday.
And he… hadn't awakened anything.
He would remain mortal from now on.
Crushed by despair, knowing he'd bring shame to his family—especially to his elder sister, a proud Lord Rune wielder whom he looked up to—he made a desperate choice.
He consumed a Tier 0 Mystic Beast Core, an object from the Mystic Realm. It was due to a rumor in the Academy that consuming such a core would make one awaken.
It didn't.
The original Corvus died in agony, his internal organs exploding from the Mystic energy wreaking havoc in his unawakened mortal body.
"Though it might not be just rumors…" the new Corvus muttered, looking at the back of his palm. "Or maybe… it wasn't the core. Maybe it was me?"
His soul—reborn from another world—so in a way, it was Oliver's soul that awakened but not Corvus?
Corvus shook his head, stopping himself from guessing. "All that matters is, I am in a fantasy world and I can wield the magic here," he mumbled, smiling.
He stood up, walked over to the mirror, and stared into the reflection of his new self.
"Corvus Neil… relax," he said to his reflection. "From now on, I'll live this life for real. And I won't tarnish your name… or your family's."
"I will become a powerful Lord and help your sister too, so you can rest in peace now," he said, joining his palms together as if praying for the peace of the original Corvus's soul.
But—
"Who the fuck wants that—?! Give me back my body, you bastard!!"
A sudden voice roared in his head, echoing with rage.
Corvus jumped in fright, eyes wide, as the ghostly image of the original Corvus flickered into view—floating in midair behind him, transparent and expression filled with fury.
"What the—" Corvus pointed at the ghost Corvus, wondering what the fuck was happening!!!
He stared in disbelief at the spirit. It looked just like Corvus—only a bit angrier, like a demon. The ghost lunged at him—
Corvus instinctively shielded himself, but nothing happened.
There was no more ghost of Corvus.
Corvus blinked.
"…Did that really just happen?"
He looked down at the glowing rune on his hand, then at his reflection.
"Am I still dreaming?" he couldn't help but ask.