With a metallic click, the balcony door unlocks, making my heart go faster: this is the moment, either do or die.
I take a deep breath and step inside.
The Velvetmaids' suite is anything but modest, though, when considering that it was the most popular brothel in the city of Dragondale, this much is expected; and the guy in the big, circular bed there is the biggest patron of the brothel. The room is fully air-conditioned, something I appreciated as it was very hot outside. I close the door soundlessly behind me and let the curtains hide it seamlessly.
I wade through the clothes and oil strewn across the floor, a testament to the passion shared within the confines of these walls.
Suddenly, a flash of silver to my left, and my heart hammers—but it's only my own livery and the knife strapped to my leg, captured briefly in the head-to-toe mirror hanging on the wall. The reflection shows me the spell, the enchanted face I possess: silver eyes, charcoal hair, a cute baby face. I tip myself a serious nod and mutter silent words of encouragement with my rosy lips, ease out a silent sigh, and keep moving.
Kyselius Seedrake, the baseborn son of an SSS-ranked powerhouse, Valeric von Seedrake, and himself an SS-ranked Potential, is one of the most important members of House Seedrake, an indispensable asset in the war against the Gargons.
But to me, he was nothing but a horny bastard. A traitor of humanity who would go to any length to bed a beauty...
...Also, an easy target.
Seeing him lying in the bed peacefully, and his molten lava hair fanned out like a dark tapestry across the pillow, with a silver-haired beauty, Mira, in his arms, I felt a surge of anger.
"It's fucking unfair," I spat under my breath.
A scumbag like Kyselius forces women to bed with him, gets away with it by relying on his family, and still awakens with SS-rank Potential. Me? I merely transmigrate into this world of novel for who knows what reason and awaken with a trashy E-rank Potential, and get my arse served around on a silver platter for seven years.
Well, that ends today!
Crouching down a little, I reach out for my knife. He stirs, gently pushing away the sleeping beauty to her left side—and freezing my blood. The baseborn sits up, groggy—his hair cascading like a lavafall—and reaches for the water bottle on the bedside table, revealing his bare, skinny but well-toned torso, when his crimson eyes lock with my silver jewels.
He moves, but I am faster: my right hand finds its way to his throat, slamming him back into the mattress, though I was too unprofessional to prevent his shout, allowing more than just a squeak past my grip.
"Ah! Assassin! Assassin!" the baseborn shrieks while struggling to free himself. But his retaliation only makes me tighten my hold on him.
Fortunately, all the rooms and suites at Velvetmaids are soundproof for obvious reasons; the guards outside will never so much as catch a whisper, let alone a cry for help.
But Mira...
The innocent little whore bolts upright: "Ah!!!" she lets out a shrill cry as soon as she sees me pinning down her beloved lord. Perhaps because it was dark, but she didn't recognize me, her colleague.
Not that I cared, we are just acquaintances. I serve the noble ladies who visit the Velvetmaids for a little love that their husbands or partners fail to provide, while Mira serves those same husbands and partners who seem to have a thing for Selari beauty.
In a way, we share an interdependent relationship. We take what we like and rip the couple to pieces, making us even more money. This business model is very successful, I have to admit. After all, the Bawd is no brainless bedtop jockey.
However, I wasn't going to let Mira ruin my opportunity of a lifetime for the sake of our "interdependent relationship".
So, when the Selari whore attempted to make a run for the door, I stabbed the side of her neck before she could even jump out of the bed. Her body went limp instantly.
Kyselius panics watching Mira go lifeless. He struggles even more fiercely to somehow shake me off, but that only drains the color of his gaunt face more quickly. Further struggle is discouraged by his close-up view of my knife, its thick, double-edged point an inch away from his left eye.
He taps my hand as if wanting to say something, maybe make an offer in exchange for his life, but all I see is a worthless endeavor to buy time.
I bite my tongue, and saliva gushes into my mouth to moisten my throat.
My voice is steady: very low and very flat. "It's customary, at times like this, to say a few words. A man shouldn't die without understanding why he's been murdered. But since we're both running out of time, I will keep it simple."
I lean close and stare past my knife into his eyes. "Your actions of forcing women to be your pleasure toy deeply disgust me. It makes my heart twist, and my stomach turn... but, most importantly, I need you. Your potential, your talent, your bloodline... It's all wasted on you. Let me have them! I will make use of your gifts far better than you ever will."
By the time I finish speaking, I can see confusion written on the baseborn's face.
He fails to understand what I meant, but he doesn't need to; it simply doesn't matter.
Finally, I flashed him a smirk. "Thank you, Kyselius Seedrake, for being the debaucherous monster that you are. At least, I will not feel guilty for what I am about to do to you."
I could see his eyes popping out, veins throbbing on his forehead. I squeeze any further, and he dies.
"Identity Devour," I say without missing another heartbeat.
As soon as I utter those words, the surrounding air shudders like it's resisting something unnatural, and I hear whispers echo in my ear—voices indistinguishable, sinister.
It made my heart tremble.
Suddenly, I notice a shift in Kyselius's demeanor. He's gone silent, his eyes turned completely black. Crimson threads unravel from his body, pulled towards me, like a tapestry being rewoven.
One of them attaches itself to my glabella, the rest to my heart, and I instinctively know what these threads are—Soul Threads—each of them tied to Kyselius' talent, bloodline, future, and karma.
I feel a constant itch all over my body, the most notable thing being my height: I feel shorter.
As the devour progresses, Kyselius' shadow cast on the wall by the moonlight flickers, distorts, and finally...disintegrates. Cracks promptly appear all over Kyselius' face and torso before he crumbles into mist, his body vanishing as if it was never there.
...And in that moment, the world forgot one soul... and remembered another.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the spot where Kyselius once lay, struggling for his dear life; not a hint of emotion betrayed my eyes.
I just take a deep breath and ease out a sigh of relief.
"Status Window!"
The words are uttered before I know it, and a floating blue screen appears before my eyes.
-----
[Name: Kyselius Seedrake]
[Age: 17]
[Potential: SS]
[Bloodline: Fire Dragon]
[Talent: Pyroclasmic Rebirth]
[Overall Rank: E]
[STR: E]
[DEX: E+]
[AGI: E-]
[STA: E+]
[INT: E-]
[PRN: E]
[Skills: Bedchamber Arts (S), Restoration Arts (D), Fist Art (E), Palm Technique (E), Kicking Discipline (E), Swordsmanship (F)]
[Aspect Art: Dragon's Breath (Prana Chapter)]
-----
"It's finally over... I did it," I mutter, my words spoken with disbelief as I stare at the screen. So different it is from my previous one—the name, the age, the stats, and most importantly, the potential; it looks so...promising, so glorious.
My feet make their way towards the head-to-toe mirror that I had previously passed by, and I am greeted with another spell, one different from the last one: molten lava hair, crimson eyes, and a gaunt face with a sharp jawline.
One by one, I undo my clothing, first the robe, then the shirt, and finally the pants; not even my undergarments are spared: I stand stark naked in front of the mirror under my scrutiny.
I was shorter than my previous self, skinnier, fairer, and for sure much more handsome.
But I was also far too weak: a temporary situation in my opinion, given my current potential is SS-rank. I will surpass my prowess sooner or later.
"Hehe..." I giggle at my reflection.
"HAHAHAHA...!!!"
The next moment, it turns into uncontrollable, maniacal laughter.
For the next few minutes, I laughed like there was no tomorrow. I cannot help it; it took me seven years of patience and hard work to reach this point, and it was all worth it.
Slowly, I calm down and lean forward with my hands against the mirror.
A question remains: Who am I now?
But the answer is obvious.
"From now on, I am Kyselius of House Seedrake," I declare, meeting my reflection's gaze.