"Finally."
The word slipped from Ryan's mouth like a prayer, a whisper, a sacred chant uttered only in the holiest of moments.
His eyes trembled as he stared at the glowing notification on his phone:
[Your Preorder Is Ready: Chronicles Of The Black Sun (Collector's Edition) is now available for pickup.]
His breath hitched. His knees went weak.
For the past three years, Ryan had done everything short of selling his soul to wait for this sequel.
He'd argued with strangers on forums, memorized fan theories more thoroughly than his own college notes, and once refused to go on a second date because the girl hadn't heard of Black Sun.
No regrets.
And now… it was here.
He launched himself off the couch, nearly twisting his ankle in the process, and scrambled for his hoodie like a man possessed.
The hoodie was black, baggy and slightly cursed with chip dust stains from 2022.
Perfect.
He pulled it over his head, slapped on a facemask (because, yes, health protocols were real, but also it made him look cooler), and marched out the door with the swagger of a hero heading into the final raid.
Rain smacked him in the face as soon as he stepped outside.
"Of course it's raining," Ryan muttered, squinting up at the gray sky like it personally betrayed him. "Dramatic effect unlocked."
Still, he didn't slow down.
He tucked his hands behind his back like a cloaked wanderer in a fantasy novel, kept his head low, and moved through the empty streets with purpose.
It wasn't far.
Just six blocks to his favorite game shop — Digital Haven.
He'd been going there since high school.
The employees knew him by name.
One of them had even cried with him when the first Black Sun ended in a soul-crushing cliffhanger.
He picked up the pace.
The rain started to pour harder.
The streets glistened. Puddles exploded beneath his sneakers. Visibility dropped.
But Ryan's determination only grew stronger.
He was so close.
He could already picture the moment — the clerk handing him the steelcase box with reverence, like it was the Holy Grail.
He'd go home, set the mood, light a candle or two (strictly for gamer ambiance), and boot up the main menu with trembling hands.
The opening theme would swell.
Maybe he'd cry a little. Maybe he'd —
HOOOONNNKKKK.
"…huh?"
The sound came like thunder.
Ryan turned his head.
A truck was barreling down the wet road, wipers flailing, headlights slicing through the curtain of rain.
For a split second, he didn't move.
His gamer brain processed it like a quick-time event.
Press X to dodge.
Too slow.
BOOM.
The truck crashed into him with the speed of a moving bullet.
Pain?
Not really. Just a weird floating sensation.
Everything went silent.
The rain stopped.
The cold was gone.
He felt like he was weightless, hovering somewhere between a nap and a glitch screen.
Is this how death felt?
"Huh… this is weirdly comfy," Ryan murmured.
Was he dead?
Was he in a coma?
Was this a really elaborate cinematic cutscene?
No answers came — just darkness, slowly shifting into light.
And then —
He woke up.
But not in a hospital.
Not in an ambulance.
Not even on the street.
No, Ryan woke up lying in a massive four-poster bed, the ceiling above him adorned with carved obsidian roses and silver etchings.
The sheets felt like they were woven from clouds.
His pillow smelled faintly of expensive incense and… burning?
'Okay. Not my bed.'
He sat up — and immediately felt wrong.
Like, body wrong.
His limbs felt longer.
His skin smoother.
And — hold up — his hands were pale, elegant, and totally not his.
He'd never had hands that looked like they should be holding a cursed grimoire.
"What the hell…?"
He stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping on a velvet robe draped across the floor.
A mirror caught his eye across the room, and he rushed toward it, dreading what he'd see.
And there he was.
Not Ryan.
Not average-gamer-dude-who-just-wanted-his-sequel Ryan.
No.
This was a whole different face.
This face had pale skin, frost-blue eyes that looked like they could probably freeze even ice, hair like dark silver snow, curling over his forehead in perfectly styled waves.
A jawline so sharp it could've been DLC.
Ryan blinked.
He recognized this face.
He'd seen it countless times.
This was Lucien Virellis — the tragic younger brother of the main villain in Chronciles Of The Black Sun.
The character he hated the most.
"Nope," Ryan muttered. "No no no no no."
He slapped his face. Still Lucien.
He checked his hands. Still elegant and cursed-looking.
He opened his mouth.
"My voice is sexy now?!"
Panic swelled.
His heart raced.
"Okay… calm down, Ryan. Or… Lucien. Or whatever I am now."
He took a deep breath.
"You've played this game. You know this world. Which means… maybe you can survive this garbage character's life."