Caelan Crowndread

Darkness peeled away slowly, like old paint flaking off a wall.

Each second felt like peeling off layers of static in his mind. 

Alex took a deep breath, chest rising under unfamiliar weight. His fingers curled—longer than they used to be. Paler. Sharper. He stared at his hands like they belonged to someone else.

Because they did.

Pushing the velvet blanket off, he climbed out of bed. His body moved differently. Taller. Stronger. More… noble, in a sinister kind of way. His feet touched the cold marble floor, sending a shiver up his spine.

Where am I?

He tried to sit up.

That's when it hit him.

A sudden wave of memories crashed into his mind like a freight train. There were names he didn't know, battles he'd never fought, betrayal, A throne drenched in shadow.

His head throbbed violently.

"Ghh!"

He clutched his skull as the pressure became unbearable, as if his brain couldn't hold the weight of another life. His eyes widened. His nose began to bleed, thick drops falling onto the cold marble floor.

He staggered, gasping, his knees buckling under the pressure.

Visions flashed before him. A crown of bone. A burning throne. A name carved into the world like a curse.

Caelan Crowndread.

His new name.

His new life.

Then everything went black.

He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Few hours later

The pain faded slowly.

Each second felt like peeling back layers of fog in his mind. The storm in his head quieted, leaving behind a dull ache and a heavy silence.

Alex opened his eyes, blinking at the room around him.

Velvet curtains. Gold-trimmed furniture. A massive four-poster bed with silk sheets softer than anything he'd ever touched. The floor was polished marble, and the chandelier above him looked like it cost more than his entire neighborhood.

"…Okay," he mumbled, squinting. "Either I reincarnated, or I woke up inside a luxury RPG mod."

He pushed himself up, the heavy quilt sliding off. He moved to stand, and his foot sank into a fur rug so fluffy he felt guilty stepping on it. His reflection waited across the room in a tall, antique mirror framed with silver ivy.

He took a deep breath and walked toward it.

And then he saw himself.

Pale skin, flawless and smooth. Jet-black hair that looked freshly styled despite the chaos. Dark grey eyes—cool, sharp, and just a little dead inside. His face was sharp and refined, like it had been carved by an artist with too much time and way too much ego.

"…Oh no," he whispered. "I'm hot. And that can only mean one thing…"

The memories started to settle, clicking into place.

He remembered castles. Council meetings. Magic duels. Political schemes. Blood on the marble floor. 

Then, the name came crashing in:

Caelan Crowndread.

He stumbled back, eyes wide.

"No. No no no no—this guy dies! I read this!"

Rise of the Holy Hero: Savior of the Seven Realms!One of the few fantasy novels he didn't finish because the pacing was weird and the villains were way too dramatic.

Caelan. Third prince. Arrogant, powerful, rich as hell, and destined to get yeeted off the plot by Chapter 22.

"…Great. I got isekai'd into an NPC with a death flag made of concrete."

He stared back into the mirror, face deadpan.

"Could've been the hero. Could've been the mysterious side character. But nope. I wake up as the discount villain prince with trauma and eyeliner energy."

He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes.

"…Still, damn. Those cheekbones could cut glass."

DING!

A soft chime echoed in his mind. He froze.

A glowing blue screen appeared mid-air.