Chapter 2: Intruder's Dilemma

Silence reigned in a princely chamber, only broken by the soft murmurs of flames in the hearth.

A windowless room, just a door.

The walls adorned with hand-embroidered tapestries.

In the center of the room, a dark wooden canopy bed stood majestically. The mattress, covered with a black silk sheet, was luxuriously thick, inviting restorative sleep.

But it wasn't the bed that captivated the gaze. It was the body occupying it.

A man lay there, his gaze lost.

He rose gently, feeling the luxurious fabric of the bed linen against his skin, and carefully observed every detail of the room.

The sumptuous furniture was adorned with delicate sculptures, transcending mere craftsmanship to achieve a form of living art.

Everything in this room seemed to tell him that he had arrived in a place where he did not belong.

He placed a trembling hand on his face and realized that even his body had changed.

The features were more angular, the chin square, and the skin paler. His shoulders were broad, and his stature more imposing. His muscles were sculpted to perfection, delineating under his skin, and scars marked his body. He felt like he was observing a stranger in the mirror of his own body.

A deep confusion engulfed him, along with growing apprehension. "What has happened to me? Am I not supposed to be dead?" he wondered aloud.

No answer came to him, only his own voice echoing his doubts.

He took a few awkward steps in the room, his eyes scanning every corner, every clue that could provide an answer to his confusion. But nothing seemed to make sense.

He was there in this princely chamber, awake after being left for dead in the street in a body that was not his own. Dark hypotheses began to germinate in his mind.

Have I been reincarnated? Is this just a post-mortem dream? Or is it like the situations described in some fantasy novels?

As he searched for clues to unravel this enigma that trapped him, a wave crashed over him.

Pain, like a powerful venom, spread rapidly through every fiber of his already weakened body.

Unable to bear it, he collapsed onto the cold floor, convulsing.

Like two rival entities, two consciousnesses suddenly clashed, vying for control of this torn body.

"Who are you? What are you doing in me?"

The body began to speak, as if addressing itself.

Meanwhile, the man's mind was plunged into turmoil, understanding nothing of what was happening. "Is... is it you, the owner of this body?"

The body began to speak to itself again. "Who dares corrupt my soul? I, the greatest mage this world has ever borne!"

"Listen... Listen to me! I... I also don't know what's happening, I was..."

"Intruder, silence! For such an affront, I will gladly assimilate your being and torment you for eternity!"

The man understood that the original owner of this body was trying to regain control.

Logically, the man should have let it happen. After all, he was the intruder and should leave.

Wasn't he dead? He had nothing to do with life anymore, right?

But, without understanding why, he resisted, like a rock battered by furious waves, firmly anchoring himself in his determination not to be overwhelmed.

Why?

Hadn't he wished for a new chance so much? A new life where he would give more meaning to his existence?

So how could he give up on this chance?

Even if he was in a position of intruder, he didn't want to, he must not weaken.

"I'm sorry dear owner but... I... will take over your body."

"What?! How dare you?! Disappear!"

The fierce struggle between these two souls filled the entire room with a disturbing and growing aura.

The man's internal reflections flashed in his mind with bursts of clarity and confusion.

Every second in this state of duality was torture, a struggle that exhausted him a little more with each moment. Yet, he drew from within an unsuspected strength, fueled by his burning desire to seize this opportunity despite being labeled as an usurper.

He desired this new life so much.

In this struggle, he had been able to grasp his situation.

In this whirlwind of conflicting emotions, he had realized that this body and its owner were those of one of the iconic villains of the novel he had loved so much.

This revelation had troubled him, not understanding how such a thing could happen. But as the struggle for supremacy continued, he had accepted it as reality.

He had even seen this situation as an opportunity that the universe was offering him.

He found himself at the very heart of this work of fiction that he had cherished so much, with the possibility of shaping his own destiny.

And as he engaged in internal reflections while fighting the original owner's consciousness, he had a moment of lucidity.

He then realized that he was supported by a young boy, intertwining with him.

At the sight of the boy, the man knew who he was.

"Klein..." He barely mumbled, his voice almost not coming out.

Seeing the boy crying, the man almost regretted what he was about to do. Because taking possession of this body meant making the person whom many people depended on disappear. And despite the villainous identity of this body, the man knew that many people relied on him.

However, he couldn't weaken now.

Having already formed his plans for this life, he grabbed the boy's arm and used his strength to give an instruction, then lost consciousness again.

But this time, his perspective had changed.

He was no longer going to try to oust the original soul from this body, but to assimilate it, to possess it.

That was the best he could do to appease his conscience as the intruder.