My face smashed into the thick dark wood table.
The brutal impact rattled my teeth and sent a sharp spike of pain shooting up through my nose.
A heavy, armored hand gripped the back of my neck, pinning my head down against the polished wood.
"Stop squirming, bastard," a rough voice growled right next to my ear.
I blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the dancing black spots from my vision.
My head spun wildly.
The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on my cheap mattress after reading a few Chapters of a web novel.
Now, I was choking against a wooden table, and my left hand throbbed with a dull, constant agony.
I forced my eyes downward.
Thick, ugly burn scars twisted across the back of my left hand, pulling the skin tight.
That was not my hand.
"Read the decree," a woman’s sharp, aristocratic voice commanded from somewhere in the room.
The tone dripped with absolute disgust.
A herald cleared his throat.
The sound echoed outward, revealing the massive scale of the hall we were in.
"By the ultimate authority of Duke Reynard Voss," the herald yelled, his voice carrying easily over the hostile murmurs of a large crowd.
"Cassian Voss, born of impure blood, is hereby stripped of all titles, rights, and claims to House Voss."
The armored guard shoved my head upward, forcing me onto my knees.
I gasped for air, tasting copper and dust on my tongue.
I looked around the room.
Hundreds of nobles stood in a wide semi-circle, their faces twisted in mocking sneers and open contempt.
At the head of the great hall sat a man and a woman on high-backed, gilded chairs.
The man, Duke Reynard, looked down at me like I was a piece of rotting meat left in the sun.
He did not show a single hint of fatherly affection.
Beside him, Lady Cordelia Voss wore a victorious, venomous smirk.
"You brought unforgivable shame to this noble house with your pathetic accident," Cordelia sneered, stepping down from the raised dais.
Her heavy silk gown rustled loudly against the cold stone floor.
She stopped directly in front of me, grabbed a brutal fistful of my black hair, and yanked my head back.
"Did you really think your filthy blood would ever inherit the Voss lands?"
I gritted my teeth against the tearing pain in my scalp.
I did not know these people personally, but the names hit my foggy brain like a war hammer.
Duke Reynard. Lady Cordelia. Cassian Voss.
I knew these names.
They were characters from a fantasy novel I had casually read and dropped somewhere in the middle.
"Bring the women forward," Duke Reynard commanded.
His voice was absolute ice, devoid of any warmth.
The crowd parted down the middle.
Two guards wheeled a heavy wooden chair forward over the stone flags.
A woman sat slumped inside it, her head lolling weakly to the side.
Striking golden blonde hair spilled over the rough wood of the chair, a stark contrast to her pale skin.
A thick leather strap pulled tightly across her chest kept her from sliding out of the seat entirely.
I recognized her description immediately.
Seraphina Aldric.
The hostage princess of the conquered Kingdom of Aldemoor.
Her golden blonde hair was the signature trait of her royal bloodline.
She was paralyzed from the neck down, her spine secretly poisoned with a paralytic curse by her own regents during the handover.
Behind her, another woman walked forward.
A guard gripped her upper arm tightly, practically dragging her along.
She had elegant black hair and striking pale violet eyes, but those eyes stared blankly ahead, completely unseeing.
Isolde Draven.
The blind daughter of House Draven, a rival Duke family.
"Look closely at your new brides, Cassian," Tristan, my half-brother and the new heir apparent, sneered as he stepped out from the jeering crowd.
He wore pristine white armor that gleamed brightly in the hall’s candlelight.
"A crippled war trophy and a blind liability. A perfect match for a scarred bastard."
The crowd erupted into cruel, echoing laughter.
Men pointed directly at Seraphina’s lifeless limbs.
Women whispered loudly behind feathered fans, mocking Isolde’s stumbling, uncertain steps.
I struggled against the guard holding my shoulder, but he immediately slammed his heavy gauntlet into my kidney.
I choked on my own breath, dropping heavily onto one knee.
The pain radiated through my torso, making my vision swim again.
My mind raced.
I knew the plot of this world.
In the original novel, Cassian was a minor antagonist.
He was forced to marry these two ruined noblewomen as a public humiliation.
Embittered and angry, the original Cassian eventually allied with the true villain, Cardinal Malchior Vane.
Cassian betrayed both fiancees to secure his own restoration to House Voss, only to be killed off as a disposable threat once his usefulness ended.
I looked at Seraphina.
Her sharp, golden amber eyes met mine.
They were filled with burning, helpless rage.
She could not move a single muscle to defend herself.
She was the main heroine, destined to be used by the hero, Prince Alaric Thorne, who planned to heal her just to make her his concubine and annex her kingdom bloodlessly.
I looked at Isolde.
She stood stiffly in the center of the hostile hall, her unseeing violet eyes staring at the far wall.
She was the story’s villainess, her blindness orchestrated in a fake hunting accident by Cardinal Vane to isolate her.
She was gripping her silk skirt so tightly her knuckles were stark white.
She looked utterly alone and terrified beneath her practiced noble composure.
"Sign the contract," Cordelia demanded harshly.
She threw a heavy parchment onto the dark wood table right in front of my face.
A sharp quill, dripping with dark red ink, rolled to a stop near my scarred left hand.
"Sign it and take your trash out of our sight forever."
My throat was incredibly dry.
I tried to speak, but the guard kicked the back of my knee joint hard.
I slammed face-first against the unforgiving stone floor.
"You do not speak," Duke Reynard stated.
He stood up, towering oppressively over me.
"You sign. You take the Aldemoor princess and the Draven girl to the border estate immediately. You will never set foot in the capital again. If you refuse, my guards will cut your throat right here."
I looked at the parchment on the table.
The words blurred together, but the thick black lines at the bottom were clear.
Signatures were required.
My signature was required.
If I signed this contract, I officially accepted the role of the miserable, doomed minor antagonist.
I accepted the path that ended with my inevitable death.
But if I did not sign it, Reynard’s guards would butcher me on the spot before the story even began.
I had no combat training, no techniques, and no reputation to protect myself.
I was a genuinely weak initiate.
"Are you deaf, bastard?" Tristan stepped forward and spat onto the floor next to my hand.
"Sign the paper."
I reached up for the quill.
My scarred left hand trembled violently.
The tight burn marks pulled painfully against my skin with every movement.
I gripped the feathered pen tightly and dragged the sharp tip across the rough parchment.
’Cassian Voss.’
The moment the quill lifted from the page, the ink dried instantly, magically sealing the contract.
A faint red glow pulsed briefly from the parchment, officially binding me, Seraphina, and Isolde together.
The realization crashed heavily over me.
The ink was completely dry.
The transmigration was real.
I was Cassian Voss, and the novel’s plot was already pressing down around me.
"It is done," Cordelia announced, snatching the parchment away before I could even lower my hand.
She looked sharply at the guard holding my neck.
"Throw him out. Throw all three of them into the carriages. I want them gone from my lands before sunset."
The guard hauled me to my feet by my collar, nearly choking me.
I stumbled forward, gasping for air.
Before I could regain my balance, Tristan drove his armored fist straight into my stomach.
The air exploded forcefully from my lungs.
I doubled over, crashing back onto the hard stone floor.
The bitter taste of bile and blood filled my mouth.
"Remember your place, Cassian," Tristan whispered, leaning down close so only I could hear his venom.
"You are dirt. You will die in the dirt."
The guards grabbed me roughly by both arms.
They dragged me backward.
My boots scraped uselessly against the stone flags.
I watched helplessly as two other guards grabbed Isolde’s arms, making her stumble forward and cry out in sudden alarm.
A servant carelessly grabbed the back of Seraphina’s wooden chair, jolting her paralyzed body forward so hard her head snapped back, her golden blonde hair swaying violently with the motion.
The court jeered loudly and cheered as we were paraded out of the Great Hall like discarded garbage.
Nobles threw leftover food and empty wine cups at us.
A half-eaten apple struck my cheek hard, leaving a bruise.
The guards hauled me forcefully through the massive iron doors and threw me down the steep stone steps of the courtyard.
I rolled violently down the hard stairs, tearing the fabric of my shirt and scraping the skin clean off my elbows.
I hit the gravel at the bottom with a heavy, bone-rattling thud.
Pain flared intensely through my entire body.
I gritted my teeth and struggled to push myself up using my scarred hand.
"Get them in the transport," a guard captain barked loudly from the top of the stairs.
I lifted my heavy head.
Two dilapidated, heavily barred carriages stood waiting in the dusty courtyard.
The guards practically threw Isolde into the first carriage.
She hit the wooden floorboards hard, unable to catch her balance in the dark.
Other guards hoisted Seraphina’s wooden chair and shoved it roughly into the second carriage, not bothering to secure the wheels.
A guard marched aggressively toward me, drawing his steel sword with a sharp scrape of metal.
His eyes held clear, undeniable killing intent.
"The Duke said to escort you out," the guard growled, raising the heavy blade high above his head.
"He didn’t say you had to survive the trip."
I scrambled backward frantically against the loose gravel.
I had no weapon to block the strike.
I had no strength to fight back.
The heavy steel sword slashed downward, aiming straight to cleave through my collarbone.
Just as the cold steel bit into the fabric of my torn shirt, a transparent blue window shattered the air directly in front of my face.
`[Wife Investment System Bound.]`
`[Target: Survive.]`