The Strange Reward

Survive.

That was my only goal right now.

Because if this dumb villain—Elias Astiars—was weak and couldn't fight for shit, then guess what? I, Aiden Cross, damn well knew how to fight back. And I sure as hell wasn't weak.

Zaden's lip dripped blood, his nostrils flaring as he stared me down. He looked pissed.

So was I.

I didn't ask to be shoved into this messed-up world, into this story I created. I didn't ask to be trapped in Elias Astiars' body, forced to deal with all the consequences of his actions.

But now that I was here? I refused to be a punching bag.

Zaden lunged.

I moved first.

Ducking under his arm, I drove my elbow straight into his ribs. Hard.

CRACK.

He let out a sharp grunt, stumbling back, his face twisting in pain.

Not wasting a second, I grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him forward before smashing my knee into his gut.

Another hit. Direct. Effective.

Zaden choked, doubling over.

"You little—" He barely managed to hiss before I shoved him off me, making him stagger back into Ashton's bed.

Silence.

The whole room was dead quiet.

Dante, Ashton, and Nantos just stared.

Even Zaden seemed too stunned to react. He wasn't expecting this. None of them were.

I clenched my fists, my breathing heavy. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline flooding through my veins.

I did that.

I had actually taken him down.

And I wasn't done yet.

Straightening, I rolled my shoulders, cracking my neck as I glared at the three who were still standing.

"You think I'm some easy target?" My voice was steady. Controlled. Dangerous. "You think I'm just gonna roll over and let you treat me like shit?"

No one spoke.

Zaden wiped the blood from his lip, his jaw tightening. Dante's lips curled into something dangerous—not quite a smirk, but not quite disapproval either.

Ashton raised a brow, tilting his head. "Didn't think he had it in him."

I exhaled sharply, my stance unwavering.

"Damn right I have."

I wasn't Elias Astiars.

I was Aiden Cross.

And I would survive.

"Let's stop this now. I can hear footsteps outside. Baldy would kill us if he saw us not sleeping and fighting instead," Nantos muttered, his voice low but firm.

Everyone froze for a second, listening.

Sure enough, faint footsteps echoed outside the room, slow and deliberate. A warning.

Dante let out a slow exhale, shaking his head with an amused smirk. "Tch. You got lucky."

Ashton turned to Zaden, who was still glaring at me like he wanted to rip my throat out. "Zaden, get up and go to your bed. I can't get caught by that shit." His tone was casual, but there was a sharpness to it, an unspoken threat.

Zaden scoffed but didn't argue. He pushed himself up, shooting me one last look before finally making his way to his own bed.

I stayed still for a few seconds, body tense, waiting for someone to make a last move. But nothing happened. It was over—for now.

I turned and walked over to my bed, ignoring the dull pain in my stomach from where Zaden had kicked me earlier. My body ached, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I had survived.

The lights flicked off, plunging the room into darkness.

I stared at the ceiling, my breath finally slowing.

I actually survived.

I won.

A chuckle rang in my head.

"Congratulations." The sickeningly familiar voice spoke. "You have survived the night without getting beaten to a pulp."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the useless commentary, Liaine."

Liaine—the so-called system, or whatever the hell it was—ignored my sarcasm. "Now for your reward: Unlock one hidden memory."

Hidden memory?

I frowned, my body tensing slightly.

"What do you mean hidden memory?" I asked cautiously.

A small pause.

Then, a sudden rush—like something breaking free in my mind.

My vision blurred, my surroundings fading. My chest tightened as an unfamiliar sensation crawled up my spine.

And then—

Darkness.

Suddenly, I wasn't in my bed anymore.

I was standing in the middle of a grand hall, cold marble beneath my feet.

The air was thick with tension. The chandeliers above cast a dim golden glow, barely reaching the towering bookshelves that lined the walls. A library. But not just any library.

I knew this place.

I had written this place.

The Astiar Family Library.

My pulse pounded.

This was Elias Astiar's past. A memory.

A figure stood in front of me, dressed in a sharp, dark suit. His back was turned, but I didn't need to see his face to know who it was.

Elias's father.

My breathing hitched. Why the hell was I seeing this?

The man's voice cut through the silence, cold and controlled.

"Do you know why you were born, Elias?"

I stiffened.

A smaller figure stood in front of him—a young boy.

My heart clenched. Elias.

His head was down, hands clenched at his sides. His small shoulders trembled, but he didn't speak.

The man took a step closer, his presence suffocating.

"You were born to obey." His voice was void of warmth, as if stating an undeniable fact. "You will not disgrace the Astiar name. You will do as you are told."

Elias' small fists trembled harder. He lifted his head slightly, and for the first time, I saw his face.

Wide, fearful eyes. Lips pressed together as if swallowing every word, every ounce of resistance.

I felt my own breath hitch—because I knew that expression.

It was the look of a caged animal.

The vision began to blur again, fading at the edges.

The last thing I saw was Elias lowering his head, his voice barely above a whisper.

"...Yes, Father."

And then—

Blackness.

I gasped, sucking in air as I bolted upright in my bed.

Sweat dripped down my forehead. My heart hammered against my ribs.

I was back.

Back in my body. Back in my bed.

But my hands were shaking.

That... was Elias' past.

But why?

Why the hell did the system show me that?

And more importantly—

Why did it feel so painfully real?

And I didn't even write this.

That was the part that freaked me out the most.

I was the author of this story. I created this world. I knew everything about Elias Astiars—his weaknesses, his strengths, his future.

And yet…

That memory—his past—I never wrote that.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing.

It felt too real. Too detailed.

Sure, I had hinted at Elias having a strict upbringing, but I never wrote that scene. Never described his father's voice, the way Elias' fists trembled, or the suffocating weight of that room.

So where the hell did it come from?

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Was this the system's doing? Was it showing me real memories of Elias' life that I had never known?

If so…

What else didn't I know?

I exhaled shakily, forcing my hands to steady. One thing was clear:

This world wasn't just my creation anymore.

It had secrets.

And if I wanted to survive, I needed to uncover every single one of them.