It was a cold winter night, and the wind howled like a warning of approaching evil. I decided to head to the central market in my city to buy some necessities. As I walked through the darkened streets, I felt a strange presence following me. I stopped suddenly and turned around.
There, under the dim glow of a streetlamp, stood a man. His appearance was repulsive, his eyes glowing a deep crimson, like windows into a world of blood and terror. He stared directly at me, as if he had known me for a long time. Then, in a hoarse voice that made my ribs tremble, he spoke:
"Carter de Juan... You have been chosen. And you will not escape your fate."
I tried to run, but he was faster. He chased me like an inescapable shadow until I felt a cold blade pierce my body. I saw death approaching and closed my eyes, surrendering to my fate.
Then, suddenly, I opened my eyes again, gasping as if waking from a nightmare. I was in my bed, drenched in cold sweat. I tried to calm myself, thinking, "It must have just been a dream... Just a dream."
I got up to start my day as usual. Heading to the bathroom to wash my face, I glanced in the mirror—and froze. The face staring back at me wasn't mine. It belonged to a handsome young man with sharp features, black hair, and piercing red eyes, dressed in what looked like European noble attire. I couldn't understand what was happening. I slapped my face hard, trying to wake myself from this nightmare, but nothing changed.
Memories—scenes from the life of Felix, the villainous noble I had written in my last novel—flooded my mind like crashing waves.
I had been transported into the world of my own story... and now, I was the villain.
Suddenly, a maid entered the room, trembling, her eyes reflecting sheer terror.
"M-Master Felix..." she stammered.
I stared at her in shock. "Why are you so afraid? What's wrong?"
She forced a smile, trying to hide her fear. "N-Nothing, my lord... Everything is fine."
Idiot! I had forgotten—she was terrified of me. I was the one who had written this scene. I laughed at my own stupidity.
The maid served me lunch, and I dismissed her with a cold nod before she hurried away. Sitting back, I drowned in the memories of this despicable body.
I had become Felix von Frederick—the worst character in my novel. A spoiled, cruel nobleman who saw people as mere tools for his pleasure. How ironic that I had written him this way!
The son of the great war hero Duke Frederick... yet Felix was his opposite in every way: weak-willed, cowardly, hiding behind his father's name to justify his wickedness.
Rage boiled in my chest. Why did I have to become this villain? Why must I bear the burden of a character I never wanted to be?
I looked out the window and saw a lush, ancient world, reminiscent of a noble's era. I remembered—this was Kirin, the world I had created. A realm of four continents, each ruled by a sovereign power. I was now Felix, son of Duke Frederick, the hero who had fought for the third continent—the Land of Fire—against the forces of Water and Air... and won.
This was a world where legends breathed, where magic intertwined with reality in perfect harmony.
Dragons ruled the skies of the Fire Continent, their wings blazing with ember.
Elves guarded the ancient forests of the Air Continent, whispering to trees and dancing with the wind.
Trolls lurked in dark caves and jagged mountains, spread across all lands.
Nymphs, daughters of water, sang in the depths of rivers and seas, hidden within mist and waves.
And humans—and half-breeds—lived among these realms, surviving by fate's whims, weaving their tales amidst these great creatures.
I took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of my bed, lost in thought.
Yes, this was my new world—a world of dragons, elves, and trolls. But I wasn't just a passing visitor here...
I was the Author.
Every word I had written, every creature I had imagined—they were now my weapons.
I stood abruptly, facing the mirror with newfound resolve. My eyes burned with realization.
"I am the Writer... My knowledge is my treasure!"
I smirked, watching destiny bend beneath my fingers. I no longer needed to be just another character in this world—I held the pen of fate.
I would change this villain's destiny. I would no longer be the weak noble hiding behind his father's name. I would become stronger than anyone else—strong enough to make this world remember my name.
I looked out the window once more, gazing at the new world I had become part of. The challenge was immense, but I was determined.
I would not be the villain I had written.
I would become the hero this world deserved.