[Notice: Former readers, please note that I'm just refining my writing style. Chapter 30 will be released soon, likely within two days at most. The current updates don't change much of the content but make easier to read, and add a bit of humor—nothing much different. So, give me a little time, and we'll start updating the chapters again. New readers, enjoy the chapters!]
Jay blinked. Then again. Then one more time, just to confirm that his eyeballs weren't malfunctioning.
Nope. Still here. Still holding a fancy-ass glass of wine he had never tasted in his life. Still sitting on a sofa so luxurious it made his old couch look like a flattened potato sack.
"…The hell?" he muttered, staring at the deep red liquid in his glass like it personally owed him an explanation.
One second, he was in his tiny, soul-crushing apartment, mentally preparing for another thrilling (read: soul-sucking) day of work. The next? Boom. Fancy room. Expensive wine. Zero context.
His nose twitched as the scent of something ridiculously expensive—probably aged for a hundred years in some vineyard owned by rich people with too much free time—drifted into his senses. The air itself smelled like it judged his entire existence.
He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around. Chandeliers? Check. Well-trimmed furniture? Check. Curtains so thick they could double as bulletproof vests? Double check. Everything screamed luxury. Everything also screamed you don't belong here, peasant.
Jay took another sip of the wine—because, hey, might as well take advantage of the situation before the inevitable horror kicked in—and let out a slow, resigned sigh.
"…This is way too fancy for my broke-ass life."
And yet, the unease in his chest refused to fade. If anything, it was getting worse.
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A few hours later…
Jay was still in denial. Maybe he hit his head. Maybe this was some elaborate prank. Maybe he'd wake up any second now, back in his depressing little apartment, drooling on his pillow.
But no. The world around him made its stance very clear. This was real.
And worse?
He knew exactly who he was now.
"Why am I here?" he muttered, his own voice bouncing off the ridiculously elegant walls. "How did I become him?"
His gaze landed on the wine bottle sitting innocently on the table. He narrowed his eyes at it, half-wishing it would do something useful—like explain things.
Instead, the damn thing levitated.
Jay's breath hitched as the bottle calmly floated towards him, pouring a generous refill into his glass before setting itself back down.
His fingers twitched. His heart pounded. His red eyes—oh yeah, apparently, he had those now—gleamed in the dim light.
He sat there, completely still. Processing. Contemplating life choices.
"…Okay," he exhaled. "So that happened."
A reasonable person would panic. Maybe scream. Maybe throw the wine glass across the room in dramatic horror.
Jay, however, took a slow sip. Because if he was losing his mind, he might as well do it with class.
Still. That didn't explain how he just did that. Or why. Or what kind of nightmare script he had stumbled into.
He leaned back against the sofa, eyes scanning the opulent room as if the expensive décor would suddenly give him answers.
Nothing. No clues. No divine voice from above. Just the current reality sinking into his gut.
This was real.
And he had absolutely no idea how the hell he was supposed to deal with it.
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Days turned into weeks.
And Jay—no, Raizel—was still struggling to come to terms with reality.
Transmigrating into someone as cool as Raizel? Not bad. But living as Raizel? Less cool. Watching and reading about an overpowered character was one thing. Being one came with an exhausting amount of responsibility.
Worst of all, if this world followed the original manhwa's timeline, then at some point, he'd have to fight some of the worst enemies imaginable. And given how many times Raizel almost died in the actual story, that was a problem.
A long nap sounded very tempting. If he just followed the original timeline and disappeared, no one would know he was still alive. It was a solid plan. Low effort. High reward. The only flaw?
Dr. Crombel.
That mad scientist was still running around with his god complex. And if Jay went into hibernation now, he had a sneaking suspicion the world might not be in one piece when he woke up. And if the world wasn't in one piece… well, that affected him, didn't it?
That made the whole "sleeping for a few centuries" plan less appealing.
Jay sighed and turned to the window. The sight of Forks, Washington—dull, rainy, suspiciously full of trees—offered little comfort. He still wasn't sure why he ended up here of all places. Korea, sure. Some secret lab? Makes sense. But Forks? This place didn't exist in Noblesse.
Nothing made sense.
At least, for now, nothing had gone wrong. Yet.
Outside, the sound of a car pulling up snapped him out of his thoughts. Frankenstein stepped out, moving with his usual grace—an elegant butler on the surface, a mad scientist underneath. Jay watched him with wary eyes, already mentally preparing for whatever chaos he was about to bring into his life.
He wasn't disappointed.
Frankenstein entered Raizel's room, smiling politely. "Master, how was your stay at home? Were the books I gave you to your interest?"
Jay—who had not read a single page—nodded with the dignity of a man who had spent weeks contemplating the mysteries of literature. "Hmm."
Perfect. Short. Mysterious. Just how Raizel would respond.
Frankenstein, satisfied, continued, "Master, there is something interesting I came across."
Jay turned his head slightly, the picture of mild curiosity. Inside, he braced himself.
"There is a group of cold ones in Forks."
Cold ones? Vampires? Forks?
Jay's mind stalled. That didn't belong in Noblesse.
Frankenstein went on, oblivious to his master's internal screaming. "Indeed, Master. And they are quite interesting. One of them works alongside me in the hospital. He doesn't seem to have fed on human blood for a long time."
Jay's unease deepened. Something felt off. Something he couldn't quite grasp—until Frankenstein casually dropped a name that shattered his already weak heart.
"His name is Carlisle Cullen."
Jay turned back to the window, hiding his expression behind an impeccable mask of indifference. Because if he didn't, Frankenstein would see the raw, unfiltered existential horror on his face.
He was in a crossover world.
Different fictional stories were happening at once.