Prologue.

Simon sat in his chair, holding a book in his hand, in his small apartment bedroom. It was modest, with plain white walls and a single window that let in a sliver of sunlight.

He was an average-looking 21-year-old, with short brown hair and brown eyes that seemed to blend into the background.

His parents had died in a car accident when he was a teenager, leaving him alone to fend for himself in this cruel world.

The sudden loss had been devastating, and Simon had struggled to cope. He had dropped out of school, unable to focus on his studies as he navigated the complexities of grief and independence.

But despite the hardships, Simon had found solace in reading. He devoured books of all kinds, but his favorite was a series called "The Hero's Odyssey".

As an orphan, Simon had always struggled financially. But today was a special day - the day the final volume of his favorite novel, "The Hero'sOdyssey," was released. He had scraped together all his savings to buy it.

The novel was a cliché harem tale, where the weak protagonist attends an academy in search of strength while winning the heroine's heart.

Simon had followed the series for years, and it had become a big part of his life. He'd spent countless hours reading and rereading the books, imagining himself as the hero of the story.

Now that he had the final volume in his hands, he felt a pang of sadness. Reading this novel had been his routine for so long.

Simon gently closed the book, his fingers tracing the cover art of his beloved novel. He couldn't wait to dive back into the world of "The Hero's Odyssey " to see how the story concluded.

But, he knew he couldn't start reading just yet. He glanced at the clock on his wall and sighed. He had to get going - his part-time job at the local convenience store was waiting for him.

"I'll read you later," Simon whispered to the book, smiling wistfully as he placed it on his bedside table. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head, and began to get ready for his shift.

Simon headed to the bathroom, flipping on the shower to let the water warm up.

He stripped off his clothes and stepped under the stream of water, letting out a contented sigh as the warmth washed over him.

The shower was a small luxury, but it was one he always looked forward to

After showering, Simon headed back to his bedroom to change into some decent clothes.

He put on a crisp white shirt and a pair of dark jeans, running a hand through his damp hair to tidy it up.

Feeling refreshed and ready for his shift, Simon grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out of his apartment.

He walked down the street, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of the neighborhood.

As he approached the local convenience store, he could see the bright lights and colorful signs that adorned the front of the building.

Simon pushed open the door and stepped inside, exchanging a warm smile with the old man who was already working behind the counter.

"Hey, Simon! Right on time, as always," the old man said, his eyes twinkling with kindness. Simon nodded in greeting, feeling a sense of comfort and routine wash over him.

"Hey, Uncle James! How's it going?" Simon asked, smiling warmly at the old man.

"Ah, Simon, my boy! I'm doing just fine, thanks for asking," James replied, his eyes twinkling with kindness. "Just getting ready for another busy day at the store."

"Busy day, huh? I hope it's not too crazy," Simon said, nodding sympathetically.

"Oh, you know how it is," James said with a chuckle. "Same old, same old. Just trying to keep up with the young folks these days."

Simon laughed. "I think you're doing just fine, Uncle James. You're still the best boss I've ever had."

James smiled, his face creasing with pleasure. "Well, thank you, Simon. That means a lot coming from you. Now, shall we get to work?"

"Absolutely, Uncle James," Simon replied, nodding eagerly. "What needs to be done today?"

"Well, we've got a shipment of new stock coming in later, so we'll need to get that unloaded and shelved," James said, ticking off items on his fingers.

"And I want to do a quick inventory check to make sure we're not running low on anything."

"Sounds like a plan," Simon said, taking mental notes. "I'll get started on the inventory check right away."

"Great, thanks Simon," James said, smiling. "You're a big help to me, you know that?"

Simon smiled back, feeling a sense of gratitude. "Thanks, Uncle James. I really appreciate the opportunity to work here. If it wasn't for this job, I don't know how I'd take care of myself."

James's face softened, and he nodded warmly. "You're welcome, Simon. I'm glad I could help. You're a good kid, and you deserve a chance to succeed."

Simon nodded, feeling a sense of determination. He took a deep breath, and then headed to the back of the store to start on the inventory check.

He began scanning the shelves, carefully counting the rows of canned goods, bottles of soda, and stacks of snacks. He made notes on a clipboard, jotting down numbers and quantities as he went.

As he worked, Simon's mind wandered back to his conversation with Uncle James. He felt grateful for the old man's kindness and support. Without him, Simon wouldn't have a roof over his head or food on the table.

Simon pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

As the hours passed, Simon made steady progress, his clipboard filling up with notes and numbers. He took a short break to grab a snack from the counter, exchanging a smile with Uncle James as he went.

Then, he dove back into work, determined to get everything done on time.

Just as he was finishing up, the delivery truck pulled up outside. Simon helped Uncle James unload the new stock, carrying boxes and crates into the store.

....

The afternoon flew by in a flurry of activity, with Simon helping the customers, restocking shelves, and helping Uncle James with the paperwork.

As the last customer left the store, Simon let out a satisfied sigh. He had made it through another busy day, and everything had gone smoothly.

Uncle James patted him on the back, a warm smile on his face. "Great job today, Simon. You're a huge help to me."

Simon smiled back, feeling a sense of pride and gratitude. "Thanks, Uncle James. I'm just glad I could help."

Uncle James nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Well, you've earned yourself a break. Why don't you head on home and take it easy for the rest of the evening?"

Simon nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He said goodbye to Uncle James, and headed out into the cool evening air.

As he walked home, Simon felt a sense of contentment settle over him. It had been a long day, but it had been worth it.

As Simon walked through the alley, the dim lighting and cool shadows enveloped him, providing a welcome respite from the bustling streets.

He fished a few coins out of his pocket and approached the vending machine, scanning the options.

Just as he was about to select his soda, a loud rumbling noise echoed through the alley.

Simon turned to see a large truck barreling down the narrow passageway, its headlights blazing.

Simon's eyes widened in horror as he realized the truck was headed straight for him. He tried to move, but his feet felt rooted to the spot.

"Fuc- "

The word was cut off abruptly as the truck slammed into him, its metal grille crushing his body.

Everything went dark, and Simon's consciousness was extinguished in an instant.

...

Simon's eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a jolt.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, his voice hoarse from disuse.

He looked around, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings.

But Simon didn't care about any of that. He was too busy trying to remember how he got here. The last thing he remembered was...was...

Oh God, the truck. It had hit him, and...and...

Simon's mind reeled as he tried to piece together what had happened.

He looked down at his hands, and they were not his own. They were bigger, more muscular, and had a strange tattoo on the palm.

"What the fuck is going on?" Simon demanded, his voice rising in panic.

Simon threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed, his unfamiliar legs wobbly beneath him.

Simon stumbled towards the dresser, his hands grasping for support as he struggled to maintain his balance.

As he caught himself, his eyes fell upon a mirror hanging on the wall. He staggered towards it, his heart racing with anticipation and fear.

"W-what the...?!"

As he stood in front of the mirror, Simon's eyes locked onto his reflection. But it wasn't his own face staring back at him.

Simon's hands trembled as he raised them to his face. He touched his cheeks, his nose, his lips. Everything felt real. The skin was smooth, the bones were solid.

He probed his face with his fingers, trying to reconcile the sensation with his memories. But it was no use. This face was not his own.

Simon's fingers drifted to his eyes, tracing the shape of his eyebrows, the curve of his eyelids. He opened his eyes wide, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

The crimson eyes stared back at him, piercing and intense. Simon shuddered.

But how? And why?

It was the face of William Barlowe, the protagonist of his favorite novel, "The Hero's Odyssey".

Simon's mind reeled as he took in the familiar features. The chiseled jawline, the piercing crimson eyes, and the blond hair that fell across his forehead in a messy swoop. It was all so familiar, yet so foreign.

He stumbled backward, his eyes fixed on the mirror as if hoping that the image would change, that he would see his own face staring back at him.But it didn't...

.....