When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling.
Not the cracked, stained ceiling of my old apartment. Not the damp blotches from water leaks or the tiny spider that had made its home in the corner.
No — this ceiling was carved. Carved. With swirling patterns of silver and pale blue, the kind of ceiling you'd expect to see in some royal palace or high-budget fantasy drama. My second thought was: this is too luxurious.
I pushed myself up slowly, half-expecting my muscles to ache or for my old, worn mattress to creak beneath me. But I wasn't in my bed — I was lying on a massive four-poster canopy, the sheets softer than anything I had ever touched.
Silk, maybe. Velvet? I didn't know. All I knew was that it probably cost more than I made in a year.
A faint breeze wafted in through arched windows framed by translucent white curtains. The air smelled clean. Not just "fresh spring breeze" clean, but impossibly pure — like the air itself had never touched pollution, smoke, or city grime.
I swung my legs over the edge and hesitated. The floor was cold marble, polished to a mirror sheen, patterned in gold-veined designs that looked too elegant to walk on with bare feet.
Still, curiosity beat hesitation.
I wandered the room like someone trespassing in a museum. Ornate furniture filled the space — a writing desk carved from dark wood, a full bookshelf stocked with leather-bound tomes I couldn't read, and a long chaise lounge with embroidered cushions.
There was a tea set placed neatly on a table by the balcony, steam rising from the teacup like someone had just poured it.
This doesn't feel real.
I paused by the windows, drawing the curtain aside. Outside, endless green hills rolled into mist-shrouded forests. A sparkling lake glittered in the distance, reflecting the early morning sun.
I couldn't see any signs of modern life. No buildings, no wires, no cars. Just nature and beauty — like I'd been dropped into the world of a painting.
Still, something gnawed at me. A tug in my chest. Disbelief. I turned away from the window and walked toward a pair of tall doors at the far end of the room.
My fingers hesitated on the golden handles before pushing them open. Beyond them stood a walk-in wardrobe bigger than my old apartment.
Rows upon rows of fine clothes lined the shelves. Cloaks, tunics, tailored coats, boots polished to a shine, gloves and belts with gilded buckles.
Rich fabrics in royal colors — navy, crimson, deep green, and white. I reached for a random tunic, running my hand over the smooth material. It felt real. Tangibly, absurdly real.
Then I saw the mirror.
It stood at the end of the room, full-length, framed in silver, with a small jewel embedded in its topmost edge. I approached slowly, already feeling my heart drum faster against my ribs. What would I see? A face I knew? A stranger? I braced myself.
And then I saw him — me.
Black hair, neatly swept but a little tousled. Skin too fair to be natural. And eyes — golden, bright and metallic like molten sunlight. Not brown. Not amber. It's really Gold.
I stared for a long moment. It didn't feel like looking at someone else. I moved my hand, and the reflection followed. Blinked. Tilted his head. It was me. Just… not me.
A sigh escaped my lips, one I hadn't realized I was holding.
"This isn't Crown of the Silent Vanguard," I muttered to myself, voice quiet in the opulent stillness.
Disappointment flooded me, cold and sharp. I had read the novel so many times I could quote entire chapters. I'd daydreamed about waking up as the protagonist, Lysander. Or even the sharp-tongued villain, Eldritch.
Hell, I would've taken being a background character — a knight, a page, a wandering merchant in that war-torn empire filled with dragons, relics, and buried secrets.
But this? This wasn't it. The names, the locations, the architecture — none of it matched. There was no mention of a lake-facing estate like this in Crown. No golden-eyed noble with black hair. No hills, no birdsong, no peace.
I wasn't in the story I loved.
I wasn't even sure I was in a story at all.
My shoulders slumped. Maybe it was stupid to hope. Reincarnation? Transmigration? I'd died saving a child on a highway — I thought that would earn me something poetic. Something epic.
Instead, I was… someone. Somewhere. In a world not even mentioned in the footnotes of the novel I worshipped.
Still…
I looked around again, taking in the massive room, the clothes, the view, the wealth.
I'd grown up with nothing. Eating expired bread from a corner store. Scraping together coins for bus fare. Washing my only uniform by hand every night.
And now, I was standing barefoot in a palace.
So maybe I didn't end up in the right world. Maybe I wasn't the hero of a grand saga.
But I was alive. Somewhere new. And apparently, filthy rich.
A small grin tugged at the corners of my lips.
"Well, Ren," I whispered, staring at my unfamiliar reflection, "maybe we're not in the story we wanted… but that doesn't mean it's not worth reading."
I stood there for another minute, just watching my reflection.
The golden eyes blinked slowly, their glow catching in the soft morning light. My dark hair fell over my forehead just slightly, curling in a way that I never remembered it doing. I looked more like a character drawn for a high-fantasy novel cover than a real person.
And then — it happened.
A sudden pulse hummed through my mind like a bell ringing underwater. I flinched. The room dimmed for a heartbeat, and a strange pressure settled behind my eyes.
A translucent screen appeared before me. Not hovering physically, but layered over reality — like a heads-up display in a video game. My breath caught in my throat as glowing golden text began to scroll across the vision in front of me.
⟪SYSTEM INITIALIZING...⟫
⟪HOST SYNCHRONIZED: COMPLETE⟫
⟪ACCESS GRANTED⟫
And then, like a revelation:
༺═════[ PROFILE ]═════༻
Name: Kael Arvenwryn el Valemir (Ren)
Age: 14
Race: Human
Class: Magic Swordsman
Attribute: Light
Title: Imperial Grand Prince
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
STR — ⟪D+⟫
AGI — ⟪D⟫
END — ⟪D+⟫
INT — ⟪D⟫
MANA — ⟪5000⟫
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
PASSIVE SKILLS:
⟪Light Shield⟫ – Casts a defensive shield against unexpected attacks and increases defense against dark attribute attacks.
⟪Solar Flare⟫ – Boosts magic damage dealt to enemies. Effect is doubled against dark attribute.
⟪Regen⟫ – Heals and purifies received damage and debuffs. Effect is doubled against dark attribute.
ACTIVE SKILLS:
⟪Solar Slash⟫ – Deals high damage to enemies within a small radius (5 meters). Effect is doubled against dark attribute.
⟪Luminous Strike⟫ – Deals high damage to a single enemy. Effect is doubled against dark attribute.
⟪Light Fury⟫ – Deals high damage to enemies within a wide radius (15 meters). Effect is doubled against dark attribute.
SPECIAL SKILLS:
⟪Aurora's Radiance⟫ – Heals all allies and applies a light attribute buff within a large radius (25 meters).
⟪Solar Eclipse⟫ – Deals massive damage to all enemies within a large radius (25 meters) and applies a light attribute debuff.
ULTIMATE SKILL:
⟪Aurora's Requiem⟫ – Deals massive light attribute damage to all enemies within a wide radius (40 meters), ignoring defense and resistance. Area is filled with blinding light, reducing enemy accuracy by 50% for 10 seconds. Additionally, magic damage dealt is increased by 50% for 30 seconds.
༺═════════════════༻
"…Holy crap," I breathed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
I took a step back. My heart was racing like I'd just sprinted up a mountain. It wasn't just the fact that there was a system — though that alone was insane enough — but what it said.
Kael Arvenwryn el Valemir.
That name meant nothing to me.
It had never appeared in Crown of the Silent Vanguard. Not once. I would've remembered — I'd read every chapter obsessively. I'd written fan theories, scoured wikis, even translated raw chapters from another language just to stay ahead.
There was no Kael. No Valemir. Nothing.
But what made my chest tighten wasn't the name. It was the title.
Imperial Grand Prince.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
A Grand Prince? That meant royalty — not just any royalty, but direct bloodline royalty. The kind that could inherit thrones. The kind that entire wars were fought over.
And if the title was legitimate, then this place — this ridiculously extravagant estate — wasn't even my main residence.
This was a vacation home.
I turned slowly, looking again at the polished marble, the velvet bedding, the books that smelled older than any city I'd lived in.
"So I'm not just some noble," I whispered, the grin from earlier stretching wider. "I'm the noble."
A tingle ran up my spine. It was the kind of thrill I hadn't felt since opening the first page of Crown all those years ago. The sensation of a story beginning — the sense that anything could happen.
Then my eyes drifted back to the mana stat.
5000.
In Crown, the average academy student — even the elite ones — had around 2000 mana at best. That was enough to earn a place in the upper classes. Professors hovered in the tens to hundred thousand range.
Some legendary figures were said to have millions, but they were far-off mythic beings. Untouchable. Born of old magic and divine blood.
But me? I was fourteen. And I had 5000.
Not a monster. Not a god. But more than enough to get noticed. To be called a genius.
Combine that with the sheer versatility of my skills and my class as a Magic Swordsman — a hybrid class revered for its adaptability — and I was already several steps ahead of the curve.
It wasn't broken. It wasn't overkill.
It was potential.
And I hadn't even lifted a blade yet.
I stepped back from the mirror, still staring at my reflection, but now with different eyes.
I wasn't just Ren anymore.