The day had started like any other.
I was on my usual walk through the park when I noticed an injured dog whimpering under the shade of a tree.
Its cries were loud—desperate. Yet, not a single person around seed to care.
People walked past, casting brief glances before moving on, as if the suffering creature was nothing more than an inconvenience in their daily routine.
Pathetic.
I had always had a soft spot for dogs. Seeing it in that state, abandoned and in pain, made sothing twist in my chest.
Without hesitation, I approached the poor thing, crouching down carefully so as not to startle it.
"Easy, buddy," I murmured, reaching out. "I’ll get you to a vet."
That’s when it bit .
The pain shot through my arm like fire. The damn thing had latched on, sinking its teeth deep into my skin.
I winced, a hiss escaping my lips, but I didn’t pull away. If anything, I understood.
It was hurt. Probably betrayed by so useless piece of human trash who had abandoned it here.
Even then, I didn’t let go.
Ignoring the throbbing pain, I scooped the dog up and hurried out of the park, flagging down the first taxi I could find.
Rejection.
The first driver took one look at my bleeding arm and shook his head.
The second backed away when the dog whimpered.
By the third, I stopped wasting my breath.
I ran.
All the way to the veterinary hospital.
By the ti I reached the front desk, I was out of breath, covered in sweat, and my arm was pulsing with pain.
Still, I didn’t stop.
I admitted the dog, filled out the necessary paperwork, and paid the fees.
Only after everything was settled did the receptionist speak, her voice filled with concern.
"Sir... you’re bleeding a lot."
I looked down.
My sleeve was soaked in red, the bite marks deep and raw.
Huh.
That explained the dizziness.
The edges of my vision blurred, and before I could react, the world tilted.
I faintly heard the receptionist call out—
Then, everything went black.
——
When I woke up, I wasn’t in a hospital.
The air was too still.
The sheets beneath were too soft.
The ceiling above was adorned with intricate carvings, the walls lined with expensive silk drapes.
Everything around scread wealth—a level of luxury far beyond anything I had ever known.
For a brief mont, I entertained the idea that I had been kidnapped by so eccentric billionaire.
Then reality hit.
"...Where the hell am I?"
I sat up, scanning the unfamiliar room. The bed alone felt like a cloud, so impossibly soft that for a split second, I considered laying back down.
No. Focus.
I pushed past the temptation, forcing myself to my feet.
That’s when I noticed the mirror.
It was tall—massive, actually—and out of sheer habit, I turned to check my reflection.
The face that stared back at wasn’t mine.
My breath hitched.
The person in the mirror was obese. A teenage boy, similar to my old self in so ways—black hair, familiar features—but with scarlet-red eyes that weren’t mine.
My gaze traveled downward.
This body wasn’t just overweight. It was morbidly obese.
A shiver ran down my spine.
"...I’ve transmigrated."
The realization hit like a truck.
This was just like those novels I used to read. The ones where the protagonist wakes up in a new world, in a new body, and suddenly has to figure everything out.
And if that was the case—
"...Please tell I’m royalty."
Because if I was going to be stuck in soone else’s body, I at least wanted to be filthy rich.
A spark of excitent flared in my chest. If I was so noble, this might not be so bad.
But then, a darker thought crept in.
About my family’s sullen expression, when they would get the news of my demise. Even so, I wasn’t that much disheartened, my siblings were older and more mature than , they would take care of our parents.
As the days will go by—they will eventually forget my existence.
Then, an even darker thought crept in.
What if I was one of those disposable young masters? The kind that gets slapped around by the main character before being utterly ruined?
I frowned.
That wouldn’t do.
If this world had a protagonist, I needed to make sure they were my ally—or, at the very least, that I wasn’t standing in their way.
Because no matter what happened, I refused to be so main character’s stepping stone.
Before I could plan my next move, the silence in the room was broken.
The door creaked open.
A girl stepped inside.
She was dressed in a traditional black-and-white maid outfit, her obsidian-black hair framing a face that was eerily expressionless.
But her eyes—they were cold. Completely devoid of warmth.
She stared at for a long mont before speaking.
"Young Master... you’re alive?"
The way she said it made my skin crawl.
She wasn’t relieved.
She was shocked.
As if I wasn’t supposed to be breathing right now.
"...Shouldn’t you be dead?"
I blinked.
Excuse ?
What the fuck did she an by that?
Her words were blunt—too blunt. Almost like she had been looking forward to my death.
For the first ti, I realized sothing.
If this body wasn’t ant to be alive...
Then maybe soone had tried to kill .
My pulse quickened. My hands curled into fists.
The maid kept staring, waiting for my reaction.
I needed to think fast.
If I showed fear, I was dead. If I showed weakness, I was dead.
So, instead, I smiled.
"Should I be?" I asked, tilting my head.
Her expression didn’t change.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if analyzing .
Then—to my absolute fucking shock—she sneered.
"Trash like you should have just stayed dead."
...Okay.
Now I was really starting to think she had tried to assassinate .
What kind of maid talks like this to their master?
And more importantly—
Just what kind of person had I transmigrated into?
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