'The End. How disappointing.' 

He closed the book with a soft thud. Placing it on an empty spot on his desk, he opened his email. Scrolling down, he found an email that was highlighted by a small golden circle next to it. His finger hovered over the name for a second. Strangely, everytime he would read the name, he would instantly forget it. With pursed lips he shook his head and opened it. Only a single line greeted him. 

[Any thoughts?]

He stared at the words for a moment and then began to write. What he was doing was writing an honest review to a connection he had met through one of the many banquets he was required to attend. 

At first he had been hesitant to meet this person, thinking that they too were just being superficial in everything they did. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the person was an author. A surprising occupation given the banquet he was at, but with that being said, he couldn't help but question why an author had made it a point to approach him. Were they talking to him for money? For fame? It was hard to tell. A short chat later and he was pleasantly surprised to find that this person wasn't looking for a publisher nor an investor, but instead for some opinions on a book they had yet to publish.

The request was simple. To read the book in its entirety in one day and once finished send them an email at night. He quirked his eyebrow at the second part. Why would they want the review sent the same night he read the book? Wouldn't they prefer if he took his time and seriously considered the text? As if sensing his confusion, the person laughed, covered their mouth and sheepishly said they were anxiety ridden and wouldn't be able to sleep if they knew that a review email was on their way. It wasn't the first time he had heard of such oddities, but still he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the person in front of him. 

Perhaps he should have listened to that feeling. 

He wrote a detailed email about his thoughts on the book before adding some questions he had about the world the author had created. In all honesty the book itself would sell well. The characters were well thought out and the love story was exactly what people were all about these days, but he still felt like it was lacking. What happened to the other princes? Where did the demonic creatures come from? Why did the old lady say that to the prince? There were many unanswered questions, but what he truly wanted to know more of was the world the Author had created.

He couldn't get over that aspect of the book. When he first opened those pages, the world that greeted him was nothing less than amazing. He found himself more dedicated to the creatures of the world rather than the characters themselves. Sadly, there was much left unsaid, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. Other than asking for more information. 

So that's what he did. 

After sending the email, he waited a couple minutes, expecting a reply, but it never came. He sighed. 'Of course they requested an email immediately but didn't reciprocate.'

He stood up and went to his bed. Taking his medicine, he checked his email one last time before going to bed. Perhaps tomorrow morning there would be an email waiting for him and all his questions would be answered. 

Oh, how wrong he had been.

It hurt. His throat was on fire. He tried to swallow, but it only brought more agonizing pain. It was like a million pin needles were slowly sliding down his throat. Had he taken the wrong medicine? He groaned at the thought and lifted his hand towards his nightstand where his phone should be laying. He needed to contact his doctor immediately. 

He flinched when he noticed that his hand didn't move. In fact his whole body wouldn't move. His whole body was heavy like a giant rock was laying on top of him, refusing all his movements. His breathing picked up when he found himself struggling to even move a finger. 

If this was a reaction from the medicine then he needed to calm down. His face scrunched up and he took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He convinced himself that once he calmed down then he would be able to assess the situation and go from there and if he couldn't then it was only time before his secretary realized he was missing and would send someone to come and check on him. 

When his breathing was back to normal he painstakingly pried his eyes open. It was dark. A single source of light flickered in the far corner illuminating a room he had never seen before.

There was a small rustling of fabric to his side and his eyes latched onto a figure with apprehension. Did his secretary already realize something was amiss? Had he been asleep for that long?

"Young Master? Are you okay?" A worried voice called out to him. He paused even more confused than before. The voice was young and gentle, like a little girl who had yet to reach adulthood, but that was impossible. He lived in a highly secured apartment complex with only one occupant on every level and last time he checked no little girls lived in the complex. His eyes shifted to the figure covered in shadows. He didn't trust himself speaking, but he needed to grasp the situation. 

"Wa-ter?" He winced at the hoarseness of his voice. 

It wasn't long before the shadow moved into the light and a little girl no older than fifteen stood in front of him, glass of water in hand. She gently helped him into a sitting position despite his body protesting and pushed the glass to his lips without warning. He flinched at the contact and tried to reach for the glass himself, but the young girl quickly shot him a glare.

"No. Young Master, you are too weak to be handling such things, let me help you." She stated firmly. Since when has he been weak? He shot her a glare while he struggled to catch the water flowing down his throat. It hurt. 

When the glass was almost empty, she took it back and sat it on a small nightstand next to him. He took this time to take in her appearance. She was short in stature, with a round face full of freckles. Her eyes were bright green and her hair was the color of flames. Though, instead of showing off such a beautiful color, she had them tightly braided into two pigtails with two plain black bows. 

'She must be a maid.' he thought as he looked at her clothing. It was a simple maid outfit, though it was covered in dirt and grime. 

She pushed a pillow behind him and he found his body gladly leaning into it. He groaned out in both pain and comfort. She gave him a warm, but sad smile. 

"Is anything else hurting?" Her eyebrows furrowed as she bit her lip. Overall she looked like a puppy that was worried about her master. The image itself was very fitting. He shook his head, no longer trusting his own voice. 

He tried to wave to her as if saying that everything was fine, but he was not fine. He had no idea where he was or what was going on, but as his head began to clear he had a sickening realization of what might be happening and he wasn't a fan of it at all. He wasn't stupid. He knew about these tropes in novels, but to think that it could actually happen. How laughable. 

There were three things that told him that he had transmigrated. 

The first was the source of light in the room. There were no lighting fixtures on the ceiling or walls, instead a single candle gave light to the small room. It wasn't a modern candle. Far from it. It was a long stick with a little metal stand and nothing more. 

The second was his voice. It sounded too soft and sickly. Like he could break at any moment, but there was also a lightness to it that he had only ever heard of singers having. His voice was not like that. He was supposed to have a rough and slightly deep voice. There was no way he could sing with his voice. He tried before and was told he sounded like a broken record on repeat. He never tried again after that. 

The third was the women's outfit. He had seen outfits like hers before at conventions, but never this detailed. It looked shockingly authentic and if he looked closely enough he could spot the small emblem embroidered onto the sleeves. It was a shield with a sword piercing through it. A sun was shining in the background and a couple of golden flowers lined the sword as if it was laying it to rest. He had seen that crest once before, in a novel he had read earlier that same day.

'The Flower Of Soline'

A dark romance novel that followed the life of the First Born Prince in the Kingdom of Soline. The story focused on his fight against his four brothers for the throne with a heavy incline on romance near the middle and end of the novel. 

There were wars, conspiracies, death, political issues, and blatant murder. The novel showcased that each Prince of the Soline Kingdom would try any means to make themselves the next King, but while the Princes were tearing at each other's throats, an unknown enemy was lurking in the shadows. 

The neighboring Kingdom of Gelani had successfully infiltrated the Soline Kingdom and almost obliterated all the noble families. 

Thus began the downfall of the Princes, including the hero of the story, the first born Prince. Perhaps it should have ended there, but no, the author had decided that the corrupted first born Prince needed saving. That was when the first born Prince encountered a commoner girl with the unique ability to calm anyone's wicked thoughts. She saved the first Prince and together they rose to the top and showed the Kingdom and the King that he could be a competent ruler. In the end the first born Prince became the King and the commoner girl became his queen. 

How could he have transmigrated into a story like that? He knew the story well, after taking detailed notes in order to write a good review, but not once had he ever imagined being stuck in that very story. He glanced at the girl next to him. Her appearance was unique, but not once had he ever read of a character with the appearance of the girl in front of him. The only thing that led him to the conclusion of being in 'The Flower of Soline' was the emblem on the girl's sleeves. He was one hundred percent sure that it was the same emblem as the King of Soline's. 

'Had I transmigrated into one of the Princes?' He shot the girl a look and quickly shook his head. If he had been a Prince he wouldn't have a maid who looked like she had been through hell.

'But then who can I be?' There were only three families that had the honor of carrying around the King's personal Emblem. The Amos family, the Frenzel Family, and the Driscoll Family. Each was of noble standing and each gained their title through war. The heads of each of these families were known as the three war generals and were often depicted as demons. When the Gelani Empire killed off most of the nobles, these three families proved to be too strong for them to handle. If he remembered correctly they were the only families that had successfully killed off all the assassins. 

'So am I a noble?' He shifted back to the maid. 'It would explain why she looked like she'd seen hell.' After all, the book described those three families to have a hellish living style for both the family members and the poor servants. He groaned out in discomfort as another wave of pain coursed through his limbs. His whole body felt like it was on fire.

"What happened?" he asked. This type of pain wasn't normal.

The maid jumped and avoided his gaze. Her hands clenched her skirt and she looked ready to kill. 

'So even maids look ready to murder in this novel.' He laughed at the thought then paled. 'Wait, would they be able to murder?' he looked at her in a new light. He would have to be more cautious from now on. 

"I do not know." Her words echoed in the room. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

'Great not even the maid knows what happened to this body.' 

"When the Young Master came back from the Royal Academy, you were burning up and barely walking." She looked towards the door, a dark expression passing her face as she mumbled, "I'll kill the bastards that did this to you." It sounded like a promise. A shiver ran down his spine. He made a mental note to never get on this maid's bad side.

He turned his focus back onto his new body. 'What the hell did I get myself into?' He scowled as he looked down at his hands. They were pale and sickly. His scowl deppened. 'A pale body like this wouldn't survive in this world'. He clenched and unclenched his hands, noticing how his fingers were stiff and had a slight blue tint to them. He had a sickening feeling that this body in fact didn't survive and that he had taken over a dead person's body. 

That wasn't good. He gritted his teeth as he thought about the Princes of this world. With this body he wouldn't make it through a single meeting with the Princes, heck he probably wouldn't make it through a single day in this world. The best course of action would be to avoid the main characters of the story as much as possible, which meant avoiding the Princes at all cost.But, if he was a noble, then there was no guarantee that he wouldn't run into the princes. 

There was a reason he was so worried about meeting the Princes. 

In the novel the Princes were described as ruthless and psychotic. There was one passage out of all them that stood out the most, 

[The Princes lost their mother at a young age and with her death also came the loss of their joy and happiness. In order to find such joy again, each Prince tried to find that happiness elsewhere. Of course each child failed to repeat that feeling and soon they all fell into despair. Until, one by one they found that 'joy' and 'happiness' was an illusion that could be created through pain and suffering. The Princes were no longer the same, falling down the same path of darkness just like their father before them.]

He sighed. This was going to be more hellish than he would have liked. 

"Young Master? Oh! You need to rest. It is late and you have classes in the morning." She took the pillow back from him and helped guide him back into a lying position. She tucked him under the blanket with as much care as a mother would a child. He briefly wondered if she was related to him in some way, but the thought left as quickly as it came. 

She walked over to the candle and blew it out before exiting the room with a loud bang.

The darkness enveloped him and with his weak body, sleep soon enveloped him as well.