"Young Master, he got away."
"How did he get away? There were so many of you."
"This... this is not our fault. He seemed to know what was coming."
"How is that possible? What about Rose?"
"We didn't find Miss Rose when we arrived at the villa. She's gone."
"That bitch! She took so much money from me and dared to betray me."
"What should we do now?"
"Find Rose first. Those who betray me will never have a good ending."
...
Darkness, like thick ink, engulfed Joey's consciousness. He was like a kite with a broken string, drifting in the boundless night, lost and directionless.
Those fragmented scenes, like countless sharp shards, constantly cut across his consciousness.
He felt like a rag doll thrown into a washing machine, constantly being stirred, rubbed, and torn by all sorts of different memory fragments. His consciousness was like a tangled mess, unable to distinguish which were his and which were someone else's.
He saw a lavish party with dazzling lights and clinking glasses, and there he was, holding a young woman with a terrified expression, whispering something in her ear while his fingers wandered on her slender arms. The woman's eyes were tearful, but she dared not resist.
Then, sometimes he would see himself wearing luxurious silk pajamas, lying on a soft, comfortable bed, surrounded by countless servants with their eyes down, respectful and submissive. He would order them to do anything, and if he just slightly frowned, the servants would tremble in fear. He could abuse them at will, beat them at will, and even trample them like pigs and dogs.
When these memories surfaced, Joey felt a strange violent aura emerging within his body, he couldn't help but want to tear everything around him into pieces. He heard himself sneering at those kneeling at his feet in a sinister tone, and saw himself whipping those who were begging for mercy.
"You bunch of useless things, you can't even protect your master, what use are you to me!"
"If I manage to escape this time, I will kill all of you trash!"
"And those who dare to plot against me, I won't let a single one go!"
These vicious memories sent shivers down Joey's spine. He couldn't believe that he would become such an evil person, a villain so undeserving of sympathy.
"No, this is not me! I am not him!" Joey struggled desperately in the darkness, wanting to break free from the shackles of these memories, wanting to prove that he was not that villainous Joey.
He struggled desperately, wanting to break free from the shackles of these memories, wanting to escape from this ugly soul.
"Can't you do something useful like your older brother? Don't just idle away every day." The old man looked like he hated that iron couldn't be turned into steel.
"Good for nothing, more harmful than good." His older brother's cold words were like sharp thorns, piercing his heart.
"Just a useless second-generation rich kid." Willy Stake's voice was indifferent and disdainful.
"Willy Stake!" Joey clenched his fists tightly, his nails almost digging into his palms. Why does this guy from a humble background, a man who rose up by relying on women, look down on him?
Those familiar faces emerged from the depths of his memory: the butler, outwardly respectful, but actually disobedient in secret; the relatives in the family who watched coldly, waiting for an opportunity to ridicule him; every face told him that he was a failure.
But even in these memories full of hatred and anger, there was a glimmer of warmth. He saw his younger sister, Erza Forrest. She was always by his side, quietly caring for him. She was the only person in this cold world who would not look down on him.
"Erza, my little sister, the person I can't let go of the most is you. You must be well!" He murmured in the darkness, his voice laced with tenderness.
Just as he was immersed in this rare tenderness, another fragment of memory began to flood into his consciousness, those were the memories of Tarrant.
He saw himself wearing a cheap plaid shirt, squeezed onto the subway, and buried in work in the office. Every day repeating the same work, every day working overtime late into the night, every day facing endless KPIs. He liked to listen to his favorite music, drink his favorite coffee, and browse his favorite online novels after work. Life was ordinary, but it was considered free.
"My comics, my coffee…" Joey murmured in his heart, thinking of his favorite things, those things that had once made him feel warm and happy, but now were so far away, making him feel extremely lost and sad.
He also thought of the god-awful novel he was following, those plots he had ranted about while staying up late, and those beautiful futures he had once longed for.
He realized that he had once been Tarrant, an ordinary 996 office worker. Although ordinary, he was upright; although busy, he was at peace. And now, he had become Joey, a villain full of sin and conspiracy.
Why, why did he transmigrate to this horrible place? Why did he have to become a villain destined for a tragic end? Why did he have to face so many crises?
"This is so unfair! God, are you blind?!" He roared in the darkness, his voice full of despair and unwillingness. He began to curse the injustice of God, the brain-deadness of the author, and this messed-up world.
"I just wanted to live an ordinary life, why did you make me go through all of this? Why did you make me become such a scum? Am I doomed to be bound by the fate of this villain? Am I doomed to be like him, retaliated against, ridiculed, and killed?"
But soon, he calmed down again. Instead of constantly complaining, he should think about how to change the current situation.
"No, I can't just sit here and wait for death!" He vowed in his heart.
"If I manage to escape this time, I must change this plot, I must make this Joey become a good person, I must never let him continue to do evil!"
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions and keep himself calm.
However, those messy memories continued to surge out, pulling him between two extremes.
Sometimes, he was that arrogant, domineering, and villainous young master of a rich family, and sometimes, he was the ordinary, cowardly, and helpless office worker.
His consciousness kept switching back and forth between these two identities, and his heart was full of contradictions and struggles.
Sometimes he wanted to take revenge on those who had hurt him, and sometimes he wanted to do his best to make up for the mistakes he had made.
"Who am I? What kind of person should I become?" Joey asked himself again and again in his heart, but still couldn't find an answer.
"Am I doomed to be like him, despised by everyone, and eventually die miserably on the streets?" Joey asked softly in his heart. This question, like a sharp thorn, was deeply stuck in his heart.
He began to recall everything before he transmigrated. He thought of the fatigue of staying up late to follow the novel, his ordinary life, and his endless longing for the future.
"I don't want to die! I don't want to waste my life like him!" Joey shouted in his heart. He did not want to become a villain who was about to receive a death flag, he wanted to change himself, he wanted to start his life again.
Wanting to change his life, Joey knew that he must solve the problem of the people who wanted to kill him. He began to calmly analyze the situation. According to the novel's plot, Joey's death was caused by the protagonist group. In other words, to change his fate, he only had two paths: either defeat the protagonist group, or reconcile with them.
Defeating the protagonist group? That was almost impossible. The protagonist with the protagonist's halo was like a cheat code, not only resourceful and capable, but also had a group of equally excellent companions. On the other hand, before transmigrating, he was just an ordinary 996 worker, his abilities and resources were completely incomparable to the protagonist. Although he had now transmigrated and become the young master of a rich family, Joey, this young master was just a useless good-for-nothing, otherwise he wouldn't have faced the fate of being killed at the beginning.
Thinking of this, the situation became clear: rather than trying to defeat the protagonist, it was better to choose to join the protagonist group. Reconciliation with the protagonist might be the only way out. Even if he had to kneel down and apologize, he would be willing.
Such behavior might seem cowardly, and might be looked down upon by the people around him, but these things were not important to him. Anyway, in the eyes of outsiders, he was already Joey—and it was Joey who was losing face, not him. Thinking of this, Joey's hatred for this young master of a rich family lessened a bit, and he even felt that this identity might not be completely worthless.
"If that's the case, then let's try it," Joey murmured in his heart, a glimmer of determination flashing in his eyes.
Suddenly, a faint light appeared in the boundless darkness, flickering like a firefly in thick fog. Joey's consciousness seemed to be pulled by that light, and he had a moment of clarity. His vision barely focused on the distance, where a blurry black shadow was looming at the edge of the light. The shadow was blurry and unclear, seemingly like a person, but not quite, its outline distorted and deformed with the flickering of the light, making it look strange and mysterious.
"Who is it? Who's there?" Joey's throat felt like it was caught in an iron hoop, his voice so weak that he could hardly hear it. He wanted to move his body, but his limbs felt as heavy as lead. He could only widen his eyes, trying his best to see the true face of the black shadow.
However, the shadow did not respond. It hovered at the edge of the light, seeming to hesitate, or perhaps observing. Joey's heart began to race, and a chill went from his spine, spreading down his limbs. He felt an invisible pressure, as if something indescribable was examining his soul.
He tried to shout, but his voice was still stuck in his throat, only making a hoarse, gasping sound. "Damn it! What the hell is going on!" He was anxious in his heart, wanting to break free from this strange restraint, but every effort he made was like fighting with an invisible quagmire, the harder he struggled, the deeper he sank.
The shadow seemed to sense his unease, and its movement suddenly paused, and then it retreated at an extremely slow pace. As the shadow moved away, the light gradually dissipated, and the surrounding darkness covered everything again like a tide. The outline of the shadow became increasingly blurred, and eventually completely merged into the darkness.
"What is this? Is it coming to hunt me down? Or... am I already dead?" Joey's heart was filled with fear and unease. His mind was filled with all kinds of unexplainable guesses, but no matter how hard he thought, he could not get any answers. A sense of helplessness like a giant wave completely engulfed him.
With the disappearance of the shadow, the feeling of oppression in the darkness seemed to intensify. His consciousness began to gradually dim like a lamp, and the whole world seemed to be receding little by little. He tried to grab something, but found that his hands were completely unable to move, as if his whole person had been imprisoned in an invisible cell.
"No! I can't give up just like that!" Joey roared in his heart. He forced himself to concentrate and tried his best to grab that last bit of clarity. A deafening roar rose in his heart: "This is definitely not the life I want! I must change this tragic fate!"
A strange power surged from the depths of his heart, seemingly his survival instinct driving him to break free from this darkness. His consciousness was like a flame against the current, trying to burn through the surrounding coldness and shackles. However, that power, just as it ignited, was extinguished like a flame by a merciless storm. He felt his body becoming weaker and weaker, and his vision becoming more and more blurred, as if all his senses were being gradually deprived.
As his last bit of strength ran out, countless broken scenes flashed in his mind: a lavish banquet hall, a pair of icy eyes, a vague whisper... the scenes alternated and were chaotic, like fragments from the past, or perhaps some false illusions.
Finally, his consciousness was completely engulfed by the darkness, like falling into a bottomless abyss. The surroundings returned to a deathly silence, and time seemed to have stopped. Only a trace of remaining hope, flickered slightly in the depths of his heart.