I cut off my finger.
The reason? It was absurd.
Because it felt really good.
What on earth was I doing, with nothing inside me screaming to stop?
I stared at my severed little finger, trembling. Watching it roll around made me sick.
I hadn't meant for this to happen. I just wanted to poke it a little, maybe draw some blood...
But before I knew it, I'd cut the whole thing off.
Even worse, I had been this close to slicing off my ring finger too, right before I snapped out of it.
"…Dangerous. This is dangerous," I muttered, my voice trembling with a hint of fear.
This wasn't what I expected. It was harder. Riskier. Way more dangerous.
Sharp, searing pain throbbed from the wound, shooting up my spine and into my brain—a body's scream so visceral it made tears fall without me even noticing.
But the rush? The thrill? It was intoxicating.
I glanced at the mirror, tears stinging my eyes. Reflected back at me was a boy—his red eyes shimmering with moisture, his jet-black hair tousled and damp with sweat. His little finger was missing—just like mine.
The boy wasn't crying because of the pain.
He was crying because he hated this… hated himself. And I understood why.
Because that boy...
That boy was me.
Ask me how I know, and all I can say is... he's me.
Ask me why he's me, and I have nothing more to offer.
I don't know either.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. Not here. Not now.
I was in the academy's bathroom, and class was still ongoing. Who knew when another student might walk in?
I hurriedly grabbed the severed finger and pressed it back onto the wound. Then I washed the blood off my dagger, stuffing it back into my pocket.
Just 10 minutes ago, I'd come to my senses and realized that I was sitting in a classroom I'd never seen before.
When, how, and why?
I didn't know.
But looking around, I understood soon enough.
This was the world of the novel Blades of Eternity
Sounds crazy, right? But it's the truth.
Otherwise, how could I explain the teacher's lecture about monsters from another world, supernatural abilities, and all those novel-specific settings? Or the fact that the main character was sitting right in front of me?
This wasn't some elaborate prank. There were no hidden cameras.
The first thing I had to figure out was who I had become.
I knew this body wasn't mine. I'm—or, I was—a girl. But this body… didn't feel like mine.
While rummaging through my pockets, I found a student ID and quickly took it out.
Leon.
The name, engraved under the picture of a blonde-haired boy, stared back at me.
I made some excuse about feeling sick and left the classroom, supposedly headed to the nurse's office. But I came straight here instead.
And that's how I found myself in this situation.
"Leon… it was really Leon."
The little finger was neatly attached to the wounded surface. There was no sign that it had been cut.
Super regeneration.
Leon's very own ability that could shrug off most injuries.
I really became that Leon...
Now you may be wondering, who's Leon?
He was one of the main characters of Dawn of the Sword.
He had it all—charisma, an impeccable reputation, and supernatural abilities that placed him in a league of his own.
But Leon had one fatal flaw.
Leon was a masochist.
Not just your run-of-the-mill type, either. He took a disturbing pleasure in pain—the worse it got, the more euphoric he felt.
To put it simply, Leon was a self-destructive masochist.
And now I was that masochist.
"Oh, God."
The realization hit me like a freight train. My head spun, nausea clawing at my throat.
I stumbled over to the sink, gripping the edges for support, and splashed cold water on my face.
I'm trapped in the body of Leon, the perfect student with a twisted, hidden vice. And worse… I'm somehow embracing his compulsions.
The mirror offered no solace. I could still see it—that faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at my lips.
"No. No. No." I whispered, shaking my head violently. "I can't let this happen. I'm not him."
But was that even true?
The more I tried to convince myself, the less certain I felt.
With trembling hands, I pulled the dagger out of my pocket and stared at its gleaming blade. My reflection stared back, daring me, tempting me. My heart raced as I raised it to my palm…
And then I stopped.
A soft knock on the bathroom door broke the spell.
"Hey, Leon, you in there?" A boy's voice called. One of my classmates, probably.
I froze, panic flooding my veins.
"Y-yeah! Just a minute," I stammered, hastily shoving the dagger back into my pocket.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I wiped the tears from my eyes and forced a calm expression onto my face.
Whatever this new life had in store for me, one thing was certain:
I couldn't let anyone know who I really was.
Or what I'd done.
Because Leon's story… was only just beginning.