I gradually opened my eyes, exhaustion etched across my features.
I yawned and stretched my arms wide as I sat up.
I thought I’d slept peacefully—until realisation struck.
“Wait, am I alive?!” I blurted out, utterly bewildered.
I ran my hands over myself, checking for injuries, but everything seemed intact.
I surveyed my surroundings: a modest sofa beside the bed, a table in front, a sprawling cityscape visible through the window, and hospital equipment dispersed throughout the room.
“I actually survived.” I stood and, without the slightest shame, began jumping around the hospital room.
Oh, thank you, God—the almighty, the all-powerful—for sparing my life.
I dropped to all fours, pressing my forehead to the floor in prostration.
I was on the verge of tears until—click.
The door to the hospital room opened.
A woman in a nurse’s uniform walked in.
She looked startled to see me prostrating on the floor.
“Y-young master, you’re awake—” But I didn’t give her the time of day, continuing to praise the owner of all.
I finally lifted my head and met the woman’s brown eyes.
“God is great,” I declared matter-of-factly.
She just looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Say it.”
“Wh-what, young master?”
“Say it!” I demanded, more fervently.
“God is great,” she blurted out, panic and fear in her voice.
“Good,” I said, rising from my knees and settling onto the couch.
“Are you alright, young master?” she asked nervously.
But I found myself distracted, wondering why she insisted on calling me ‘young master.’ I was usually addressed as ‘sir’ or by my name; being called ‘young master’ felt distinctly odd.
I ignored her question and asked one of my own.
“What hospital am I in?”
“Lumina Hospital.”
“Lumina Hospital?” I repeated, frowning.
I’d never heard of it, but it sounded oddly familiar.
“Where in Sol City am I?” I asked, confused.
Her face mirrored my confusion.
“Sol City?”
“Young master, this is Lumina City.”
I frowned even harder.
Lumina City?
It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Lu, mi, n—Wait!” My eyes widened as panic set in.
“Did you just say Lumina!” The nurse looked thoroughly shaken; she was on the verge of tears.
“Y-yes, young master Asmari, did I say something to offend you?”
My mind went blank.
Asmari?
What do you mean, Asmari?
I’m Luke Greenwood, not Asmari.
And who is As—
But then realisation struck me like a hammer.
I rushed to the bathroom mirror and stared at my reflection.
Staring back was a man with deep amber eyes and a look of profound horror.
His dishevelled black hair framed a face that, frustratingly, could only be described as handsome.
That handsome man was, inexplicably, me.
I touched my face in pure disbelief and panic.
How?
Wait, why?
Why him, of all people?
Of all the fucking people I could have transmigrated as, I got Asmari motherfucking Dragaoth.
The only son of the strongest man alive—and the most hated fucking person in the entire empire.
And it wasn’t without reason; he basically shat on anyone and anything, not caring about status.
No wonder the nurse started crying after hearing me scream; she probably thought I was going to kill her.
Suddenly, my vision went white as a sharp pain stabbed through my head, accompanied by a flood of memories that weren’t mine.
I grabbed the sink with one hand, clutching my head with the other, trying to steady myself.
But it was no use.
I collapsed to the ground, both hands gripping my head as I groaned in agony.
The nurse peeked through the open bathroom door and saw me writhing on the floor in agony.
She sprinted to a button and slammed it, then hurried back to me, firing off the stupidest questions imaginable.
What do you mean, does it hurt?
Bitch, can’t you see I’m literally grabbing my head in agony?
And then she has the audacity to ask if it’s my head that’s hurting.
No, it’s my left testicle that suddenly started malfunctioning.
If it weren’t for the fucking pain in my head, I’d have strangled her.
The pain intensified as the memories flooded in; it became so overwhelming that I started screaming.
The nurse panicked even more, firing off more ridiculous questions.
“Shut up!” I snapped, my voice raw with pain and irritation.
She immediately clamped her mouth shut, and, as if on cue, the pain finally began to subside.
After a little while longer, the pain ebbed away, and the memories began to clarify.
It was surreal—like reliving Asmari’s entire existence in fast-forward; I could feel my own personality fusing with his, reshaping who I was.
Suddenly, the doctor burst in, panic etched across his face.
“Y-young master, are you alright?” he stammered.
I stood up from the bathroom floor and replied, “I’m fine.
Now leave.”
“B-but, young master, we heard that y—did I misspeak?”
“I said leave.” My tone verged on threatening, and the doctor and nurse wisely hurried out.
Thud.
The door closed behind them.
I returned to the sofa and pondered my predicament.
With the torrent of new memories, I genuinely didn’t know if I was Asmari or Luke anymore.
Yet, those memories also made it strangely easier to accept my circumstances.
Sigh.
I suppose I’m Asmari Dragaoth now.
As soon as I accepted that, a memory I’d rather forget surfaced.
Just thinking about that day made me cringe—fuck.
No fucking way I proposed to the princess of the Levaitthan kingdom.
In front of all the first years, no less.
Remembering what happened yesterday at the academy’s opening banquet made me recoil even more.
Not only did I propose and get brutally rejected, I openly assaulted her—and got sent to the hospital after she slapped me.
Just fuck me already.
I know I begged to get transmigrated, but not as Asmari Dragaoth.
And I specifically asked for a peaceful novel—not some fucking game I couldn’t beat in over four hundred tries.
And don’t even get me started on his Aspect—or rather, my Aspect now.
As the sole heir of an entire 8-star family, and the son of the strongest man alive, you’d expect a decent Aspect, right?
Maybe a four-star, or even a five-star like the protagonist.
Yeah, no—the fucking game developers decided to screw me and gave me a one-star Aspect that granted me night vision while kneeling.
While fucking kneeling.
And it was the lowest recorded Aspect ever given to someone with a bloodline.
And everyone in the empire knew that—constantly ridiculing me for it.
The disgrace of the Dragaoth family, the useless son of an eight-star family, the one destined to end the Dragaoth legacy.
And it goes on and on; I genuinely doubt there’s a single person in the empire who likes me besides my own family.
It doesn’t help that in every one of the four hundred-something playthroughs, I die.
Every single one—not a single exception.
I always manage to get under everyone’s skin; if it isn’t the protagonist who kills me, it’s the headmaster of the academy.
If not the headmaster, then one of the heroines, and if not them, then some random NPC I screwed over.
I could go on endlessly about all the people who hate me.
And most of them will be at the academy—the very same academy that starts in three days, and the same one that always ends up being my graveyard.
Lumina Academy.
Click.
The door swung open.
I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up to see a striking woman in black jeans and a button-up shirt that looked ready to burst at the seams.
Her piercing emerald eyes glared at me with unmistakable irritation.
Silver hair swept across her forehead and cascaded down her back, and two twitching, feline ears poked through the strands.
She was Mina Saber—my shadow and arguably the most aggravating being alive, even if she wasn’t technically human.
She was also the only one I could remotely consider a friend, though I’d never admit it out loud.
Unfortunately, she didn’t share the sentiment, since she killed me in plenty of routes and even became a heroine herself.
Why is that, you ask?
Because my version of friendship involved whipping people and making their lives absolute hell.
Yeah, I had some pretty twisted hobbies—and some of those habits haven’t disappeared.
“Tsk, he woke up,” she grumbled under her breath, clearly irritated.
My eye twitched, but I kept my expression neutral before speaking.
“Why are you smiling?” I asked, a mocking smile playing at my lips.
“Are you really that happy I woke up?”
Mina met my gaze, her face completely deadpan.
“Did you fucking hit your head?
Or did the princess slap you so hard your puny little brain turned to mush?”
“You’re as positive as ever,” I shot back, sarcasm dripping from my words.
She looked at me, surprise flickering in her eyes; she probably didn’t expect such a tame reaction.
Can’t blame her—I’d normally throw a fit if she insulted me like that.
“No, seriously, have you suffered brain damage?”
But I merely ignored her.
Instead, I considered how desperately I needed to get stronger—and how I needed to claim the Black Star position in the academy, the coveted spot for first rank.
A scheme began forming in my mind, fuelled by my game knowledge.
Mina looked thoroughly annoyed, and just before she could complain, I stood up and said, “We’re leaving.”
“What?
Where?” she asked, confused.
I simply grinned and replied.
“The red-light district.”
A/N
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