The first thing Benjamin noticed was the warmth of the sun.
It caressed his skin with a gentle heat, a stark contrast to the cold darkness he had been floating in moments before.
He inhaled deeply, the scent of grass and wildflowers filling his lungs, and opened his eyes.
The sight before him was almost too vivid, too perfect. He was seated in the middle of a vast meadow, the tall blades of grass swaying softly in the breeze.
The sky above was a brilliant azure, dotted with fluffy white clouds that seemed almost close enough to touch.
In the distance, mountains rose like jagged teeth, their peaks capped with snow.
But it wasn't the scenery that caught Benjamin's attention. It was his hands.
They weren't his.
His fingers were long and elegant, the nails perfectly trimmed and clean.
The skin was pale but healthy, with a slight sheen that made it look as if it belonged to a nobleman who had never done a day of hard labor.
Benjamin turned his hands over, his heart pounding in his chest, and saw no sign of the scars or calluses he'd grown accustomed to.
"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice soft and unfamiliar.
He touched his face, his fingertips brushing against smooth, flawless skin.
His jawline felt sharper, more defined, and his cheekbones higher. His hair — his fucking hair!
He pulled a lock into view and saw that it was long, silky, and a striking shade of silver that shimmered in the sunlight.
"What kind of shampoo is this guy using?" he said, half in awe and half in disbelief.
Benjamin scrambled to his feet, his movements a little awkward as he adjusted to the unfamiliar body. He was tall — taller than he'd been before — and his muscles, though not bulky, were well-defined and toned, as if he'd spent years training.
He caught sight of his reflection in a small stream nearby and approached cautiously, his heart racing.
The face staring back at him was undeniably handsome, almost unreal in its perfection. His eyes were a deep, piercing blue, like the ocean on a cloudless day, and his silver hair framed his face in soft waves that fell just past his shoulders.
His lips were full and naturally pink, his nose straight and refined. He looked like he'd stepped out of a fantasy novel — and not as a background character, either.
"Okay, this is officially weird," Benjamin said, staring at his reflection. "I look like a walking Instagram filter."
It took him a moment to remember Aria's words. She had mentioned reincarnating him as Lucien Drakemore, a side villain from Eldoria Chronicles.
But as he stared at the ethereal figure in the water, Benjamin frowned.
"Villain, huh?" he muttered, his brows knitting together. "This guy doesn't exactly scream 'evil overlord.'"
And that was when the memories hit him.
They came in a rush, like a tidal wave crashing against his mind. Fragmented images, sounds, and emotions flooded his thoughts — memories that weren't his but felt as real as his own.
He saw Lucien's life flash before his eyes: a young noble scorned by his peers for his perceived arrogance, a talented mage with immense potential but little ambition, and a character who existed in the game merely as an obstacle for the protagonist to overcome.
Benjamin groaned, clutching his head as the influx of information slowed. He sat back down on the grass, trying to process it all.
Lucien wasn't even a major villain. He was a minor footnote in the grand story of Eldoria Chronicles, a character designed to highlight the protagonist's growth.
In the game, Lucien had shown promise during his early years but had ultimately been defeated and forgotten.
"Great," Benjamin muttered. "I'm not just a villain. I'm a side villain. A glorified punching bag."
He sighed, running a hand through his silver hair as he tried to organize his thoughts. The good news was that he knew the game inside and out.
The bad news was that Lucien's life was about to get a lot more complicated.
The memories told him that the Entrance Exams for the Institution of Magic — one of the most prestigious academies in the realm — were only a few days away.
In the game, Lucien had barely passed the exams, his lack of preparation and arrogance nearly costing him his spot.
"That's not happening this time," Benjamin said firmly. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to make the most of Lucien's talents.
The guy might have been a slacker in the game, but his potential as a mage was enormous.
Benjamin closed his eyes and focused, trying to tap into the magical energy he could feel coursing through his new body. It was like a current of warmth flowing just beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed.
"Let's see what I've got," he said, concentrating.
He raised a hand, and a faint glow began to emanate from his palm. It was a simple spell — a ball of light that flickered like a candle — but it sent a thrill through Benjamin.
"I can actually do magic," he whispered, a grin spreading across his face. "This is insane."
The light faded as he lowered his hand, but the excitement remained. He had a lot to learn, but for the first time, he felt a spark of hope.
Before he could delve deeper into his plans, a voice called out to him from nearby.
"Lucien! Hey, Lucien!"
Benjamin turned to see a young man waving at him from the edge of the meadow. He looked to be about the same age as Benjamin — around seventeen or eighteen — with short brown hair and a friendly smile.
He wore a simple tunic and trousers, his posture relaxed as he jogged over.
"Great," Benjamin muttered under his breath. "Who's this guy supposed to be?"
The young man reached him, clapping him on the shoulder like they were old friends. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you. Did you forget about the sparring session we planned?"
Benjamin blinked, momentarily thrown off by the man's familiarity. But he quickly composed himself, forcing a smile. "Uh… right. Sparring session. Of course."
The young man laughed. "You're hopeless, you know that? Come on, let's get going before the instructor gets mad."
Benjamin hesitated, but before he could respond, the young man started walking off, motioning for him to follow.
He glanced at the meadow one last time, then sighed and stood. "Guess there's no turning back now," he muttered, trailing after his newfound companion.