Paul lay still, the room shrouded in darkness, the thick curtains warding off the illuminating effect of the full moon.
It was hard to believe, but all the memories that had rushed into his mind last night pointed to one undeniable truth.
"No doubt about it. I'm in the novel—Arthdal Chronicle."
He didn't want to accept it at first. Every piece of information that flooded his mind confirmed it.
The scattered memories had finally arranged themselves into proper order, showing him what was real and what wasn't.
"I've taken over this body..." Paul muttered, his voice hoarse.
The memories told a tragic tale of a young boy who lost everything—his parents, his sibling, his entire clan.
He recognized the familiar scenes from the opening of Arthdal Chronicle, the introductory phase of the villain's life. It all made sense now.
"And this isn't just any ordinary body I've come into," Paul whispered, his voice thick with realization.
The events he recalled weren't just random—they were the key moments that shaped the story's main villain, Eldrich Aldaman.
The loss of his father, his mother, and his younger brother, Aldrich, had driven him to madness and awakened his bloodline abilities, setting him on the path of villainy.
This tragedy was the foundation of Eldrich's character arc.
Paul clenched his jaw. "But... I'm Aldrich, aren't I?"
The name felt foreign yet familiar.
In the story, Aldrich is supposed to die from a spear wound and a fall down a waterfall, triggering Eldrich's descent into darkness.
Yet here he was, very much alive, occupying the body of a character who was never supposed to survive beyond a flashback.
"How did this happen?" Paul muttered to himself, still unable to grasp the full extent of his situation.
There was no logic to it—no explanation that made sense.
He had somehow taken the place of Aldrich, a character whose sole purpose was to justify Eldrich's rage and provide a tragic backstory for his villainous actions.
Paul let out a shaky breath. "Is this supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?"
His thoughts raced as he tried to weigh the situation.
On Earth, his life had pretty much ended the day he was told he couldn't draw a bow anymore.
Here, however, he was someone who was supposed to be dead.
His existence in the story was already over, which meant he had no role to play, and no plot to follow.
As long as Eldrich didn't find out he was alive, Paul—now Aldrich—was free to do whatever he wanted.
He glanced down at his still motionless body.
"If only I could get this damned body to move."
Morning came, and the light from the sun grew stronger, illuminating the room in soft hues.
Aldrich remained immobile, his body still refusing to cooperate.
Around mid-morning, the door creaked open, and a woman in a black-and-white maid outfit entered, carrying a tray.
She moved gracefully to his bedside, her steps quiet on the thick carpet.
"You're awake? Thank goodness," she said, her voice full of relief as she set the tray down on the table beside the bed.
Aldrich's throat was dry, but he managed to croak out, "Who...?"
The woman smiled kindly and gave a small bow. "Forgive me, I am Selina, your attending maid."
'An attending maid?' Aldrich thought, a bit taken aback.
He could only assume that whoever had saved him from the brink of death must be someone of great wealth and status.
Selina sat by his side, taking a neatly folded towel from the tray.
She soaked it in a bowl of water before gently wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Her movements were practiced, and careful, as though she had done this many times before.
"Miss... can you tell me where I am and how long I've been here?" Aldrich asked, his voice a bit stronger now.
The maid didn't stop her work as she spoke.
"You are in the home of Countess Marguerite, and you've been unconscious for five days now."
'Countess Marguerite...'
The name was unfamiliar to him, and more so was the mysterious rank of count attached.
The maid continued wiping his body, and Aldrich found himself thinking more about his situation.
Based on the memories he had, the massacre that claimed his family had only occurred a few days ago. The pain in his shoulder from the spear wound was still sharp, a constant reminder of the attack.
'That means I'm still in the early part of the story,' he realized.
The narrative had not yet jumped forward to four years later, when the main character, Liam, appeared in the story.
The massacre was fresh, and Aldrich was still alive, hidden away from the plot's main events.
"You said this is the home of a countess...?" Aldrich asked cautiously.
The maid nodded, dipping the towel into the water again.
"Yes, Countess Marguerite. She found you near the river and had you brought here to recover."
'Near the river...' Aldrich's thoughts raced.
That must have been where he had fallen after being struck by the spear.
Aldrich thought back to the world of Arthdal Chronicle.
It was rich with complex world-building, filled with different nations and races.
The human continent alone was divided into four great nations, each with its form of governance
Though as far as he remembered, none of said great nations practised a noble system.
"The nation... Can you tell me which nation we are in?" Aldrich asked, trying to piece everything together.
Selina looked at him curiously. "A strange question, but we are in the Imperium of Kandrel."
'Kandrel...' The name struck a chord in Aldrich's mind.
He racked his brain, trying to recall where he had heard it before.
And then it hit him. "Wait... Kandrel? You mean that Kandrel?"
The maid nodded, confirming his worst suspicions.