My name is Dane Smith. Sounds like a boy's name, right? But actually, I'm a girl.
I'm a college student studying journalism. I'm the type of person who enjoys being alone. Strangely enough, I still have lots of friends—I just don't go out or socialize with them often. I'd rather spend my time reading and writing. I was enjoying my peaceful life, until everything changed without warning.
It was three in the afternoon, and I had no classes to attend. Instead of going home early, I decided to spend time in the library. I was browsing through the shelves when something caught my attention. It was an old book—not too thick, but not thin either. I picked it up and read the title.
"Vous Promets."
I sat down on a nearby chair, opened the first page, and read the small summary:
A promise made by the two of them. A promise that cannot be broken by anything—not even him. A promise that cannot be forgotten, no matter how much time passes.
It was interesting. I got so absorbed in reading that I didn't notice the time passing. I only snapped back to reality when the librarian called out to me. The sun was already setting outside the window. I stood up and registered to borrow the book.
When I got back to my apartment, I flopped down on the sofa and continued reading, completely ignoring my growling stomach. This is something people always notice about me—either they find it cool or, in the case of my parents, incredibly frustrating. When I get absorbed in a story, I won't stop until I've finished it.
The next day, I was half-asleep. I only got three hours of sleep after reading the book through the entire night. Normally, I'd be happy after finishing a good story, but today... I wasn't. Instead of happiness, I felt a heavy sadness. Most readers tend to root for the protagonist and despise the villain. But me? I simply choose the side I find more interesting. And this time, I found myself siding with the villain.
He was a pitiful man from the start. Born in the countryside, his mother had fled from her abusive family while carrying him—pregnant with the child of a duke. But it wasn't a child born from love. It was the result of deception.
She had drugged the duke and spent the night with him. Ashamed and burdened with guilt, she ran away, unable to bear the weight of what she had done. The whole scheme had been her mother and brother's idea. She didn't want to go through with it, but they forced her, beating her until she agreed.
She escaped and lived quietly in a small house, alone, until the day she gave birth. Tragically, she died during childbirth. Her son grew up in an orphanage, where he was mistreated. Eventually, he ran away—just like his mother had. He survived on the streets, stealing and fighting just to stay alive.
At the age of nine, while attempting to rob a carriage, he was caught. That carriage belonged to none other than the duke himself. The man noticed the boy's resemblance to him... and his aura.
Aura was a form of magic. All nobles possessed it from birth—but the strongest aura belonged only to those of royal blood. The moment the duke sensed the boy's aura, he knew. This boy was his son.
The duke wasn't a loving father. Focused on his duties, he neglected the boy, who did everything he could just to be recognized. The duke was a hero to the capital, and a monster to his enemies. When the boy was just nine, a war broke out. Over four years, the duke led the kingdom to victory and earned glory for the royal family.
The boy admired him deeply. He worked tirelessly to become like his father. Then, he met her—the heroine. At first, he ignored her. But she was persistent, determined to become his friend. For the first time in his life, someone acknowledged him, cared for him. And eventually, he fell in love.
When he turned sixteen, he planned to propose. He wanted her to be his duchess. But before he could, tragedy struck. His father was assassinated during a palace ball, and the boy inherited the dukedom. And then he learned the truth—she was already engaged to the second prince's son... and worse, she truly loved him.
Heartbroken, he spiraled into despair. Consumed by sorrow, he became the villain of the story. He started a rebellion in secret. But like most stories, the villain never wins. In the end, he died.
I pitied him. He grew up without love, and when he finally found it, it was torn away from him. When I finished the story, I cried.
It was already afternoon. Classes were over. I was walking back to my apartment, too exhausted to focus after barely sleeping. As I crossed the road, my thoughts still lost in the story, I didn't notice the truck speeding toward me.
BEEEEEEP!!!
It was too late. And just like that... my life ended.
Or so I thought.
So bright.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. I tried to take in my surroundings, my head still cloudy, when a sudden, sharp pain struck.
"Ugh!" I groaned, clutching my head as the pain vanished as quickly as it came. I lay back down and took a slow breath.
"It looks like... I'm inside the novel I just read."
That's right. I died—and now I've been transported into the world of the story. A world of ancient times and hidden magic.
So now the question is…
What's going to happen to me?