THE HERO'S PERSPECTIVE
When I opened my eyes for the first time in this hell, I thought I was in a nightmare... but no — nightmares are not served with this much detail.
The sky was gray, like a frayed strip of ash from dead souls; the air heavy, as if the world were breathing blood instead of oxygen. And most importantly...
I am not on Earth.
I am Nier Verton. The son of the Duke of Shadows. House Verton—the name people whisper before sleep, the name feared even by those who don't know the meaning of fear.
Ah, Nier Verton… the quiet, noble, perfect youth who is supposed to be the center of everything in this ridiculous story.
But what is the story, exactly?
A romance. Yes—ro-mance.
A story written in roses, innocent glances stretched over pages, looks that linger for chapters, where the heroine “Ayla” falls in love with me after three lines and ten chapters of exchanged smiles.
Did I mention I despise this kind of tale? I cannot stand it. I do not believe in love made of sugar, nor in tears polished with golden light.
But worse? I am trapped in Nier's body, that boy who smiles as if he has never known pain, while I am screaming on the inside.
What is expected of me? To be the heroine’s lover? To melt her heart with a smile and a rose? To hold her while towers crumble and tell her the world will be fine?
No. To hell with that.
This world is leaning toward collapse, and I am not the savior. I am merely an intruder in the body of the heir to a terrifying house, living amid the threads of a story I did not write, and I will not play the part they want.