In a lavish bedroom bathed in the soft glow of morning light, a boy lay motionless on an oversized bed. His face, though strikingly handsome, was marred by a painful frown as if tormented by dark dreams. Then, all at once, his eyes snapped open.
"Hmm... I'm not dead?" the boy murmured, his voice hoarse. He raised a trembling hand to his throbbing head, struggling to make sense of his surroundings.
Fragments of memory flickered in his mind, sharp and vivid. "No... I was thrown off the cliff. Why am I here? Did I survive?" His gaze darted around the opulent room. Heavy velvet curtains hung by the windows, a grand chandelier sparkled overhead, and the furniture was carved from rich mahogany. This was no hospital.
Something felt off. He looked down at his hands—slender and pale, almost unnaturally so. Rising unsteadily, he made his way to a full-length mirror. The face staring back at him was both familiar and alien. It was undeniably handsome, with smooth, symmetrical features and deep-set eyes, but the skin was ghostly pale, as though drained of life.
"What's this? A vampire template?" he muttered to himself with a nervous chuckle.
And then, the pain hit. Like a dam breaking, memories surged into his mind—memories that weren't his. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he stumbled back onto the bed, clutching his head. It was overwhelming, like living two lives at once.
When the storm subsided, he opened his eyes, wide with realization. "I... I was reborn," he whispered.
This wasn't his body. He was now Alex Stark, heir to one of the wealthiest families on the planet. His father, Richard Stark, was a billionaire tycoon with a net worth of over $50 billion. Alex had been bedridden with dengue and was still recovering from the illness when fate—or whatever power governed the universe—decided to intervene.
For Sven Salvatore, this was nothing short of a miracle.
In his previous life, Sven had been a prodigy, born to a humble, middle-class family. By the age of twelve, he was earning his own money through freelance programming and bug bounty hunting. He started a YouTube channel, teaching coding, which quickly garnered millions of followers. His talents earned him a scholarship to a prestigious Ivy League university, where he majored in computer science.
It was there that he met her—Serena Johnson. She was everything he wasn't: bold, charismatic, and ambitious. She approached him with an idea for a fintech startup, and together, they made it a reality. Sven was the brain behind the technology, while Serena became the face of the company. Within three years, their startup became a unicorn, and the two were hailed as a power couple in the industry.
Though they never officially dated, their chemistry was undeniable. They were partners in every sense, sharing late nights, stolen kisses, and whispered dreams of the future. Sven thought he had it all: wealth, love, and purpose.
But his dream came crashing down.
He was accused of sexual harassment by a senior employee—a baseless accusation, but one that destroyed his life. The media painted him as a monster. His YouTube channel was shut down, his reputation was tarnished beyond repair. He wasn't convicted, but the court of public opinion had already sentenced him.
The greatest betrayal came from Serena. She wouldn't even meet his eyes, let alone hear his side of the story. She distanced herself from him, citing the need to protect the company's image. In the end, Sven was forced to sell his 20% stake in the company to cover the supposed damages. He lost everything—his wealth, his career, and the woman he thought loved him.
Disillusioned and broken, he retreated to the mountains, seeking solace in solitude. But even that ended in tragedy when a freak accident sent him plummeting off a cliff.
And yet, here he was. Alive. Reborn.
Alex—or Sven—stood before the mirror, taking in his new reflection. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair and straightened his broad shoulders. The universe had given him a second chance, and this time, he wouldn't waste it. He wouldn't play the role of the hero anymore.
"No more fairytales," he said to his reflection, a dark glint in his eyes. "If this world rewards villains, then a villain I shall be."
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. A maid, perhaps in her thirties, entered with a tray of soup. She had an average face but kind eyes that lit up when she saw him.
"Good morning, Master Alex," she greeted warmly. "How are you feeling today?"
Alex blinked, momentarily disoriented. Right, he was Alex Stark now. He forced a small smile. "Better, I think. The fever's gone."
"That's wonderful to hear," the maid said as she placed the tray on the bedside table. "The doctor said you're recovering well, but you still need to take it easy."
Alex nodded absentmindedly, his mind racing with plans. He couldn't afford to "take it easy." Not when the world had given him a blank slate.
As the maid left, he picked up the bowl of soup and sipped it slowly. The rich flavors warmed him, but his thoughts remained cold and calculating.
This was a new beginning, and he intended to make the most of it. No more living by the rules of a world that had betrayed him. He would build an empire, crush his enemies, and take whatever he wanted.
And he would start with the vast resources of Alex Stark.