Chapter 1: Awakened in a Foreign Life
A sharp pain throbbed in Klein's skull as his consciousness slowly surfaced. He blinked, eyes focusing on the unfamiliar ceiling above him. His body felt heavy, foreign, and as he reached up to touch his forehead, his fingers brushed against a rough bandage. A dull ache pulsed beneath it.
Where am I?
Disoriented, he pushed himself up on the bed, heart racing. The last thing he remembered was… what was the last thing he remembered? Panic surged in his chest. Had he been kidnapped? Injured in some accident? His mind raced, searching for any logical explanation, but nothing made sense.
Then, without warning, a flood of memories—memories that weren't his—rushed into his mind. Images and thoughts surged forward, each more confusing than the last. He saw faces, places, and moments that he knew weren't from his life but somehow were now his.
"Klein Schritter…" he whispered the name aloud, testing the weight of it.
Suddenly, realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. I'm in a novel written by my sister! The thought struck him hard, the memories of his previous life blending with the new ones. He remembered his sister—the one who had died in an accident he never understood. She had authored this story, and now he was trapped in the body of a side character, a soon-to-die character known for being loathed by everyone around him.
Klein scrambled out of bed, legs unsteady beneath him, and rushed toward a large mirror in the corner of the room. What he saw staring back at him wasn't his face—it was the face of a stranger. Yet the memories told him otherwise.
The reflection showed a young man, no older than seventeen, with striking white hair and sharp golden eyes, a handsome face framed by features that looked both regal and dangerous. This was the face of Klein Schritter, a character he had once read about, a character fated to fall into darkness.
Klein stepped back from the mirror, heart pounding. This couldn't be real. He wasn't in the modern world anymore. He was in a different reality—a novel world, one he had read to its end. But… how? And why this body?
A sudden knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Young master, may I enter?" a familiar voice asked from the other side of the door. His heart raced. Emily.
He swallowed hard. Klein remembered her from the rush of memories—his personal maid. She had always been kind and loyal to the previous Klein, but she was not to be taken lightly. Behind the facade of a mere servant, she was a powerful and mysterious figure, one whose true loyalty lay with the old Klein Schritter, not him. If she realized he was an imposter…
"Enter," he commanded, forcing a cold, haughty tone into his voice, mimicking the arrogance the old Klein would have shown.
The door creaked open, and Emily stepped inside, her demeanor calm and respectful as she approached the bedside with her usual grace. Her dark hair was tied back neatly, and she carried a tray with water and fresh linens.
"How are you feeling, young master?" she asked, her voice gentle but observant. Her sharp eyes scanned his face, searching for any hint of weakness or change.
Klein's throat tightened. He knew she was dangerous, far more than she appeared. If she suspected anything was off, she might kill him without hesitation.
"I'm fine," he replied curtly, turning away from her as if disinterested. "A minor wound."
Emily nodded, placing the tray down. "You were injured during yesterday's training session. I will ensure the doctor checks on you again."
Klein grunted in acknowledgment, still maintaining his cold facade. He could feel her eyes on him, studying him. He had to keep up this act—Emily knew the old Klein better than anyone, and the last thing he needed was for her to think he was behaving strangely. The memories were still fresh in his mind, enough to guide him for now.
"Is there anything else you require, young master?" she asked, stepping back toward the door.
"No, that will be all," he replied, dismissing her with a wave.
She bowed and left, closing the door behind her. Klein exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He wasn't out of danger yet—not by a long shot. If anyone discovered that he wasn't the real Klein Schritter, he didn't doubt for a second that Emily would deal with him swiftly. Her loyalty to the old Klein ran deep.
The real question was: why had he taken over this body? Why was he here?
Pushing those questions aside for now, Klein knew he needed to adapt. The memories told him enough: he was a hated figure in this household. His father, Duke Schritter, despised him, and his sister—the one person who could have cared for him—now hated him with a burning fury, all because of a crime the old Klein had committed. His mother and little sister had died by his hands, and now everyone thought he was a monster, a little demon.
He clenched his fists. There was no room for mistakes. He had to survive. And to do that, he needed to understand the strength of this new body.
---
The next morning, Klein stood at the entrance to the training grounds. His head had healed quickly, just as Emily had said, but his mind was still racing. He needed to find out more about this world and why he was here. After a few hours of contemplation, Klein decided it was time to train. He needed to get a feel for his combat abilities, especially after the flood of memories regarding his training. As he navigated the hallways of the Duke's estate, he felt the eyes of servants and guards upon him, their gazes filled with disdain and suspicion. The air was thick with tension, and he could almost hear the whispers behind his back.
As he approached the field, he stopped in his tracks when he saw someone already there—his elder sister.
She was practicing with a sword, her strikes precise and graceful. Sweat glistened on her skin, but her face was hard, her expression cold. The moment their eyes met, her movements froze.
Marianne Schritter. His sister in this world… and the person who hated him most.
Klein felt a jolt run through him. Her face—it reminded him so much of his own sister from his previous life. The resemblance was uncanny, the same sharp features, the same piercing gaze. His heart twisted at the thought of his sister, lost in that accident he could never explain.
But he couldn't afford to let his guard down. He had to stay in character.
Marianne's cold stare bore into him. "You should've stayed unconscious," she said icily, turning her back to him. Her voice was harsh, but there was something hidden beneath the anger—pain.
Klein felt the urge to say something, to reach out, but he couldn't. Not with Emily standing behind him, watching his every move like a hawk. He could feel her presence, her sharp eyes lingering on him, waiting for any sign of weakness, any slip-up.
So he clenched his jaw, forcing his expression into the same mask of indifference the old Klein wore. "Is that all?" he said coldly, his voice steady.
Marianne glanced back at him, her lips curling into a sneer before she walked away, leaving him standing alone in the training field. Her footsteps faded, but the weight of her words stayed with him.
"She looks just like her…" he muttered under his breath. But no matter the similarities, this was not his world. And he was not the Klein she remembered.
Emily stepped forward, her gaze never leaving him. "The training hall is here, young master," she said.
Klein nodded, keeping his face impassive. He couldn't let her know how shaken he was. Emily knew the previous Klein better than anyone, and if she sensed that something was off, if she thought he wasn't the real Klein…
She would kill him without hesitation.
After a moment of gathering himself, Klein made his way into the training hall, determined to familiarize himself with his new abilities. The hall was empty save for a few pieces of equipment scattered about. He needed to know what he was capable of.
As he surveyed the hall, his gaze fell on an Advanced Magic Combat Puppet stationed in the corner. It was an imposing figure, standing tall with gleaming armor and sharp weapons. The puppet would move and attack once infused with mana, designed to mimic the strength and skill of a seasoned warrior—this one in particular at the level of a Rank 3 mana user or 3-circle magician.
Klein frowned. He was only a Rank 2 in this world's strange system, far weaker than the puppet's intended difficulty. But he couldn't back down. He needed to know what he could do.
Infusing the puppet with mana, he readied his short blade. The puppet's eyes flickered to life, its joints moving with a fluid precision that belied its mechanical nature. Klein moved first, lunging forward with a quick strike, but the puppet blocked it effortlessly, countering with a powerful swing that nearly knocked Klein off balance.
He barely dodged, rolling to the side and regaining his stance. His body felt sluggish, unfamiliar. The puppet attacked again, its movements swift and deadly. Klein parried and ducked, but each strike felt heavier than the last. He was at a disadvantage—his mind knew the moves, but this body was uncooperative, still foreign to him.
From across the room, he caught a glimpse of Emily watching him. Her usually calm face was tense, her gaze filled with concern. She knew Klein wasn't ready for this, not against a Rank 3 puppet. If things went badly, would she intervene? Or would she let him die to maintain the facade?
Klein gritted his teeth, frustration mounting as the puppet continued its relentless assault. But then something inside him shifted. His instincts, honed from years of experience as the Albino Crow, began to take over. He stopped fighting like the nobleman this body once was and started fighting like the assassin he had been in his past life.
His movements became sharper, quicker, and more unpredictable. He feinted left, then struck low, catching the puppet off guard. The puppet retaliated, but Klein was already moving, slipping past its guard with a series of rapid, precise strikes. It was no longer a graceful duel between noble swordsmen—it was a dirty, brutal dance of survival, filled with tricks and sudden shifts in rhythm.
Emily's eyes narrowed as she watched him, her suspicion growing. This wasn't the combat style of a noble. This was something else. Something dangerous.
Within minutes, Klein had gained the upper hand. The puppet staggered as he landed a critical blow to its core, severing the mana flow that controlled it. With a final strike, Klein sent the puppet crashing to the ground, its limbs going limp.
Breathing heavily, he stood over the defeated puppet, his hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline. He couldn't believe he had won, but more importantly, he knew this victory wasn't normal. A Rank 2 mana user shouldn't be able to defeat a Rank 3 opponent, even if it was just a puppet. He had relied on his instincts as an assassin to make up for the lack of strength in this new body, but even so, the outcome was improbable.
Across the room, Emily's eyes were fixed on him, her expression unreadable. Her suspicion was palpable, and Klein could feel it. She approached him, her usual calm demeanor faltering for just a moment.
"Impressive, young master," she said, her voice carefully measured as she handed him a towel and a bottle of water. "Though I must say, defeating a Rank 3 puppet as a Rank 2 mana user… it's unheard of."
Klein wiped the sweat from his face, keeping his expression neutral. "I got lucky," he muttered, hoping that would be enough to dismiss her doubts. But he could tell from the way her eyes lingered on him that she wasn't convinced.
Before Emily could say anything more, another maid entered the training hall. She whispered something into Emily's ear before quickly leaving, her presence brief but purposeful.
Emily turned back to Klein, her expression neutral once more. "The Duke has summoned you," she informed him, her tone as professional as ever. "It seems he wishes to see you immediately."
Klein felt a jolt of anxiety. The Duke? Why would his father want to see him? He was still piecing together the memories from this world, but he knew one thing for certain—his relationship with the Duke was far from warm. In fact, the man despised him, just like everyone else in this household. A summoning from the Duke could mean anything, but it was unlikely to be good.
"Understood," Klein replied, masking his unease as best as he could. He tossed the towel aside and straightened up, preparing himself mentally. Whatever his father wanted, he would have to be ready.
As he and Emily made their way out of the training hall, Klein's mind raced with questions. Why had the Duke summoned him?
For now, all he could do was act the part and hope that his facade wouldn't crumble under the pressure.