Darkness. I looked around but saw only darkness.

  I remember working at the plant, but apparently something went wrong and it exploded.

  I knew it.

  I shouldn’t have worked at nuclear plants. It was my dream, but my mother always said it was dangerous.

  I ignored her. My rebellion clouded my thoughts, causing me to die at 30.

  Really disappointing. At least I didn’t feel any pain; my whole body was wiped out in milliseconds.

  So what now?

  Heaven? Hell?

  Limbo?

  Or maybe all religions were wrong and you just stay in an infinite void for the rest of your miserable existence.

  I couldn’t feel my body. I couldn’t feel anything, really. There were no colors around, which was strange because there truly weren’t any.

  No words to describe it.

  Time passed. Maybe a lot of it.

  Do I have to wait to be reincarnated?

  I tried to imagine a space for myself, a house, my family, but the colorless void wouldn’t leave.

  It felt like an anvil placed above me, its weight crushing my spine and grinding my bones.

  It was oppressive.

  Useless.

  And.

  Lonely.

  I tried to be sad but couldn’t. I tried to cry but had no eyes.

  I tried to scream but had no mouth.

  In the end, I gave up.

  As always.

  Was something hard?

  Better to give up. I don’t want difficulties.

  I remembered how I always tried new things, but after one obstacle, I stopped.

  Thinking I was so good that I didn’t need to do anything.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Results would come to me.

  Like... magic.

  After a while, I remembered my mother's words.

  [Son, you can’t keep going on like this.]

  [Come on, try again. You can do it.]

  Stop.

  Damn it.

  Stop.

  I felt the weight of the anvil spread over me, becoming unbearable.

  {I hate you, Mom. Why can’t I follow my dream?}

  Enough!

  [But… It’s dangerous, son. I just want what’s best for you…]

  Stop!

  {Liar!!!}

  You idiot, no.

  [But…]

  {Shut up!!}

  {Don’t talk to me anymore.}

  You idiot. Look at what you... we did.

  [Son…]

  My mother’s crying face.

  The last time I spoke to her.

  She didn’t want me to work at power plants. But I was a fool.

  My last words to her were:

  {I hate you. Give up.}

  Idiot.

  That’s what I am.

  I felt something. Finally.

  A light opened. Maybe I asked for forgiveness, maybe now I could go somewhere.

  I felt something pulling me, and I blacked out.

  When I woke up, I was in a bed. Blood-colored sheets embraced me.

  As I delighted in that, I felt memories— a flood of them attacking my brain.

  I fell out of the bed.

  I vomited on the polished wooden floor.

  That beautiful floor was now covered in vomit.

  I organized the memories.

  Apparently, I had transmigrated?

  But I didn’t feel anything.

  Vomiting again, I found the answers.

  It seemed I belonged to a race called Ghoul.

  The Ghoul race is a race extremely similar to humans, but they need to eat flesh of the Light races to survive.

  The Ghoul race was located in the north of the Dark Kingdom.

  In this world with no name, there were the Light races and the Cursed ones.

  The Light races were humans, elves, fairies, beastmen.

  The Cursed ones were Ghouls, vampires, undead and other types of weird things.

  Both groups fought for supremacy.

  Humans had three regions in the Light Kingdom, and we had four.

  My family was a Viscount family in the western part of the Ghoul region.

  We defended the border alongside a Baron.

  Our territory had a city and two villages.

  But I couldn’t stop seeing the memories of this body’s original owner eating human flesh like it was the tastiest thing in the world.

  It was… disgusting.

  My name was… no… is Enguerrand.

  It was strange, but I would have to get used to it.

  Searching through the memories, I found two things about the Ghoul race:

  The Ghoul race was one of the strongest physically, second only to vampires and beastmen.

  And Ghouls feel no emotion whatsoever.

  It’s like being a psychopath in my old world.

  That’s why I wasn’t panicking or trembling.

  I got up, sat on the bed, and looked at the mirror.

  My face was thin and pale, with eyes entirely black like obsidian.

  My long black hair had a faint purple hue, indicating my noble status.

  The nobler your blood, the more purple there is in a Ghoul's hair.

  That was due to some strange power the Ghoul King possessed.

  And the more noble a Ghoul was, the stronger they were physically.

  Sighing, I felt the door open and a woman entered.

  She was a beautiful elf.

  If it were the old me, I’d be drooling, but she made me feel nothing.

  Entering, she saw the pool of vomit I left.

  “Are you alright, sir?”

  She asked, making an exaggerated bow.

  My voice came out perfect, smooth but imposing.

  “Clean.”

  She nodded and grabbed a cloth.

  Kneeling, she spoke while cleaning.

  “The Patriarch wishes for you to attend breakfast.”

  Damn it… As if I could stand even thinking about eating human flesh or other Light races.

  She stood up and said:

  “The Patriarch also said he needs to speak with you, sir. That’s all I know.”

  She stood there, waiting.

  Should I say something?

  Not knowing how to act, I just said:

  “Alright, leave now. Tell my father I’ll be there.”

  She left, closing the black wooden door with a click.

  Lying on the bed, I looked at the clock—15 minutes until I had to go.

  From the memories of the original Enguerrand, I found out I had an older brother and two younger sisters.

  My older brother was 23, had finished the Academy, and was a warrior of Horror rank.

  My two younger sisters were 15, twins.

  I was 16, which meant I’d be going to the Academy too. Probably what my father wanted to talk about.

  Getting up, I combed my hair before putting on a black shirt with a raven symbol, purple pants, and leather shoes.

  “Let’s go.”

  Sighing, I opened the door and followed the path from my memories.

  The hallways were massive. Our castle was large, since even though we were only Viscounts, our monthly income was higher due to defending the borders.

  Walking down the granite halls, I saw many maids, all from Light races—mainly for food and because it was easier to instill fear.

  The butlers were skeletons.

  After walking for a few minutes, I arrived in front of a large door.

  The skeleton butler following me opened it and signaled for me to enter.

  There was a table with six chairs.

  Two on each side and one at each end.

  On the right side sat my two sisters. They looked like me, but their hair reached their waists while mine was just a bit long and messy.

  My mother sat to the left of my father. She was tall, with a long neck, and her hair was similar to my sisters’.

  And my father at the head of the table—his square face and perfect beard made him look like he came out of a movie.

  His hair was more purple than mine, showing he was probably considered more noble than me.

  Sitting beside my mother, I waited without saying a single word.

  This is going to be hard.