Pain came first.
A sharp, merciless headache tore through his skull, dragging him out of unconsciousness like a cruel joke. He groaned, eyes still closed, as the smell of alcohol hit him all at once—thick, stale, overwhelming.
His fingers brushed against glass.
Clink.
Another bottle rolled across the floor.
"…What the hell…?"
He forced his eyes open.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—too high, too ornate. A chandelier hung quietly, catching the pale morning light. The bed was absurdly soft, the kind that screamed wealth and indulgence.
This wasn't his room.
He sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. The world spun. His head pulsed in protest. As his vision steadied, he realized he was surrounded.
Dozens of empty alcohol bottles littered the room.
Wine. Liquor. Expensive brands he'd never dare touch back home.
A cold feeling settled in his stomach.
Then the memories came.
Not his.
A flood of unfamiliar images slammed into his mind—faces he didn't recognize, places he'd never been, emotions that weren't his own. Arrogance. Frustration. Rage. Shame. And beneath it all, a gnawing despair that didn't belong to him… yet felt terrifyingly real.
He gasped, clutching his head as the pain peaked.
He grabbed the edge of the bed, breathing hard.
"…Right."
The email.
Weeks ago someone sent him invitation to play the role of an some third rate villian.
At that time he'd laughed.
A prank. It had to be.
There was no way some random cliché webnovel would suddenly be adapted . No way they'd invite a nobody actor like him—someone whose biggest role was "Man #3 in Background Crowd."
And yet…
He'd been desperate.
Jobs were dry. Auditions were a joke. Rent was looming.
So he read it.
Seriously.
An apocalypse story. A protagonist who dies, regresses, awakens a cheat ability, and saves the world. And buried in the early chapters—
A third-rate villain.
A disposable bully whose only purpose was to torment the protagonist early on… before dying like trash once the real story began.
He remembered scoffing even as he typed his reply, half-mocking, half-resigned.
Sure. Why not.
The last thing he remembered was opening the response he received.
After that—
Nothing.
He slowly stood, legs unsteady, and walked toward the mirror.
The boy staring back at him wasn't him.
Fox-like eyes. Sharp, narrow, always half-lidded as if looking down on the world.
Dark hair slightly unkempt. A face too young—far too young—but already carrying a hint of arrogance.
Silas Rune.
A name surfaced naturally.
A typical third rate villian full of baseless conceit and arrogance.
Silas had never earned anything—he'd simply assumed the world would bend for him.
Until the Awakening Ceremony.
His memories filled in the rest.
High expectations. Whispers of a powerful trait. The Rune family watching closely.
And then—
Disappointment.
A useless Unique Trait.
The realization that he wasn't special at all.
So Silas did the only thing he knew how to do.
He drank.
For a week straight.
"…Idiot," Edan muttered under his breath.
A thought surfaced, automatic and natural.
Status.
The air shimmered.
A translucent blue screen unfolded before his eyes.
Name: Silas Rune / Edan Bright
Age: 15
HP: 27 / 100
MP: 60 / 60
Strength: 12
Agility: 15
Intelligence: 36
Charm: 24
Stamina: 9
Sense: 19
Skills:
Shooting (Lv.1)
Basic Wind Magic (Lv.1)
Unique Traits:
Bluff
→ Exude an overwhelming presence capable of intimidating opponents.
Impostor
→ By consuming the residual energy of a fresh human corpse, you may imitate their appearance for a short duration.
→ While the target is intimidated, you may temporarily use a portion of their skill set.
→ The stronger the target, the fewer skills can be accessed.
Silence.
Edan stared at the screen.
"…Huh."
Something was off.
First—the name.
His original name was there. Edan Bright.
Second— some of his stats is different, like the intelligence stat.
It was higher than he remembered.
And most importantly—
"…Two Unique Traits?"
That wasn't possible.
In the novel, people only awakened one.
Bluff was Silas Rune's trait. A flashy, useless intimidation gimmick. Or at least thats what Silas and others assumed.
Impostor wasn't supposed to exist.
Slowly, a chill crept up his spine.
"…This isn't exactly the story I read."
His fox-eyes narrowed, reflecting faint blue light from the status screen.
Silas Rune slowly smiled at his reflection, fox-eyes gleaming.
"…This is going to be a mess."