A young man with black hair and eyes was sleeping in his bedroom. The warmth of the blanket, along with the darkness of the night, deepened his sleep.
All of this indicated that he was getting a good night's rest.yet something shifted. He felt uncomfortable.
The discomfort didn't come from the bed, nor from the night itself. It came from an external force disturbing the boy's peace.
Soon, cold sweat began to appear on his neck. He shifted his body from left to right and eventually woke up.
Opening his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling.
Strange.
He then looked around the room. It looked rather simple: a bed he was lying on, a window, and a table.
It was not his room.
He tried to turn on the light, which was usually beside his bed, but his hand only met a cold wall.
He sighed and got out of bed. Walking toward the window, he pulled the curtains aside to let the air in.
(Fresh air always made him feel at ease.)
Moonlight entered the room. Tonight was a full moon.A night when the moon was at its brightest. The stars further enhanced the scenery.
The house he was in seemed to be located in the middle of the wilderness. He was surrounded by trees whose leaves almost appeared blue under the moonlight. Far away, he could see the city lights.
In short, the view was breathtaking, completely enchanting the boy.
After a while, he realized something.
'Where am I?'
Suddenly, his whole body went stiff. Panic surged through him. But he clenched his fists and forced himself to calm down.
Taking deep breaths he had learned from a meditation video, he felt his heartbeat slowly stabilize.
"Okay. I am fine. I am fine. But where am I?"
He tried to search his mind for memories—any memory of how he got here.
All he remembered was going to his room and sleeping in his bed. Then suddenly, he was here.
"Was I kidnapped? No… that doesn't seem right."
He observed the room calmly until his eyes landed on the table. Walking toward it cautiously, fearing he might trigger something, he lifted the paper lying on top.
It was neatly folded into a square. Unfolding it, he realized it was a letter.
It read:
---
Dear Reader,
Firstly, I must express my gratitude for your dedication and loyalty in reading my story.
Seeing your support truly moved me.
You see, you have died in your original world.
A heart attack in your sleep—painless, yet meaningless. You did not amount to much in your life.
So, I have decided to change that.
I am here to give you a chance. An opportunity for change.
For the love and time you devoted to my novel, I have chosen to transmigrate you into it.
I hope you enjoy your new life.
And once again, thank you for reading my story.
P.S.: Open the drawer. It is my gift to you.
—Your Author,
G.O.G
---
Perspective Change: MC's POV
A series of questions struck me as I read the letter. I suppressed my emotions before they could spiral out of control. The realization hit me in phases—disbelief, confusion, anger, and loss.
Author? Novel? Are you fucking with me?
This can't be real… I'm inside a novel?
I died of a heart attack.
I bit my lip in frustration.
A meaningless and useless death.
I didn't ask to be transmigrated here.
After a while, I finally calmed down. There was no point overthinking it. It wasn't like I truly liked my previous life anyway.
Instead of dwelling on it, I opened the drawer beneath the table. Inside lay a box.
It looked ordinary—a simple red box with yellow stripes. Still, I mentally prepared myself for whatever was inside.
I sat on the chair, placed the box on the table, and slowly opened it.
Inside was a crimson crystal, a neatly folded piece of paper, and a simple file folder.
I sighed. Nothing dangerous, I guess.
I picked up the crystal and examined it. It glowed red—a beautiful, deep shade—but nothing happened.
I placed it back inside the box and then picked up the file.
It was my file.
Or more specifically, this identity's file.
I opened it.