Pain. It was the first thing David registered. A searing, bone-deep ache that burned in his veins and sent tremors through his limbs. His head throbbed, his body felt wrong, and the world around him smelled... different. Too sharp, too intense, too alive. The faint scent of vanilla and spice curled through the air, mingling with something bitter and metallic.

His eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar ceiling, carved with intricate floral designs. Panic flared in his chest. This wasn't his apartment. Where was he? He shifted slightly, only to groan as pain shot through his body. His limbs were weaker, smaller even, and his hands—

David's breath halted as he raised them. He had slender fingers, pale and delicate, nothing like his big, calloused hands. He scrambled upright, his heart hammering against his ribs. He turned his gaze downward, toward his reflection in the polished glass of a vanity on the left side of his bed.

A stranger stared back at him. Silky, white-blond hair, high cheekbones, a pointed chin, and delicate, almost doll-like features. Large violet eyes framed by thick lashes, damp with tears of pain. He looked ... so fragile. Feminine, even, despite the distinctly male structure of his throat. The difference between the dark-eyed, brown-haired, strong-built real self and this current self was abysmal. A chill slithered down his spine. He knew this face. He had seen it so many times in the drawings of the novel his sister had written.

"Asahin...?" The name slipped from his lips, and with it came a flood of memories—none of them his own.

A villain. An obsessed, pathetic wretch who had spent his short, miserable life chasing after something he could never have. Asahin Valmoor - detested younger half-brother of the male lead, Darrien Valmoor, and relentless stalker of the protagonist, Kaylen Morrison - the main villain in the novel The Most Beautiful Sunrise.

David felt like he was going to be sick. How could it be? Only moments ago, he had gone to sleep after returning from a nightshift at the store.

He tried to understand it, to retrieve some possible clarifying memory, but a sudden wave of dizziness left him breathless.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing it away. This had to be a dream, some kind of fever-induced nightmare. There was no way he had transmigrated into the body of the most pitiful character in the entire novel. But the memories, the emotions—too vivid to be anything but real—rushed through him in jagged pieces.

Asahin, an omega, born into wealth but overshadowed by his older half-brother, Darrien Valmoor. While Darrien was a perfect, first-class omega, Asahin was barely a third-class omega with damaged glands that could not even secrete pheromones.

He had no pheromones, no remarkable beauty that could rival his brother's, and worst of all, no possibility to bond with an alpha. How could he bond with anyone when his glands were so damaged?

After spending his life seeking validation, attention, and affection, Asahin had become irrationally obsessed with the protagonist.

Kaylen Morrison had manifested as a first-class alpha 5 years before, and upon his return home after a long absence abroad, Asahin became deeply attached to him. Like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline.

Kaylen was the embodiment of the perfect first-class alpha ... Tall, powerful, superior both physically and intellectually, and extremely devoted—except not to Asahin, but to Darrien. Always to Darrien.

David exhaled sharply. In the novel, Asahin's obsession for Kaylen grew so fast, and so overwhelmingly intense.... He stalked Kaylen and Darrien, interrupted their moments, tried to insert himself into Kaylen's life through desperate ways. When Kaylen announced his engagement to Darrien, Asahin lost the last fragile thread of sanity he had left. He poisoned his own brother in a last-ditch attempt to steal Kaylen for himself. But it backfired. Darrien survived, and Asahin was thrown into prison, where he eventually took his own life in despair.

And now... David was him.

"Damn it!" The words were barely a whisper, but it echoed through the quiet room. His chest felt tight, his pulse unsteady. He needed a plan, fast.

The novel had already set its pieces in motion. Ever since Darrien had manifested into a first-class omega three years after Kaylen's manifestation, their relationship had been growing steadily, and if the timeline was correct, Kaylen would soon announce their engagement. That meant David—Asahin—was already teetering on the edge of his downfall. If he followed the original script, he was doomed.

No. That wouldn't happen.

David clenched his fists, breathing through the lingering remnants of panic. He had no interest in playing the role of a pathetic, obsessed villain. If he had to be Asahin, then he would rewrite his fate. He would stay far, far away from Kaylen and Darrien. No obsessing, no scheming, no poisoning. He just had to survive.

A knock at the door made him jolt, and a soft voice drifted through the heavy wooden frame. "Young Master Asahin?"

David took a steadying breath, straightening his posture. "Yes?"

"Master has requested you attend the party hosted tonight."

A party. Kaylen would be there, since the Morrisons were old family friends and never missed a Valmoor party. Darrien would be there, too. He would soon be in the same room with the very people he needed to avoid.

David exhaled slowly. Fine. He would go and try to stay as far away from trouble as possible. He wasn't Asahin. He would not let himself be swallowed by the same fate.

This time, the story would change.

This time, he would live.

David stared out the window, watching the late afternoon sunlight stretch across the sky. The golden hues painted the horizon, a fleeting moment of serenity before dusk settled in. It gave him a brief moment—time to gather his thoughts, to adjust to this new world and unfamiliar body.

Or rather, Asahin's body.

The weight of it, the unfamiliarity of moving within someone else's skin, was disorienting. His limbs felt weaker than he was used to, and there was a heaviness in his chest—not just from fatigue, but something deeper, something ingrained. Still, there was no time to dwell on that. He needed to get his bearings first.

David took a deep breath and forced himself to recall everything he knew about his sister's novel. He hadn't read it cover to cover, but he remembered the major events well enough.

The story began with Kaylen Morrison, the protagonist, manifesting as a first-class alpha at the age of seventeen. It had happened during one of the prestigious Valmoor parties on a Sunday evening with Darrien having been the one to stumble upon his unconscious body in the library. From that moment, fate seemed to tie them together. Kaylen was sent abroad to study shortly after, quickly followed by Darrien. Three years later Darrien, too, manifested—albeit much later than expected—at the age of twenty. Darrien's manifestation as a first-class omega had been much celebrated by both families, heralded as destiny aligning itself.

After all, the Morrison and Valmoor families had been deeply intertwined for generations—business partners, allies, even friends. Their ancestors had long since entertained the idea of uniting their bloodlines through marriage, should fate decree it. And fate had done just that.

The novel revolved around Kaylen and Darrien's growing bond, their journey from friendship to love, and the inevitable trials that sought to strengthen their relationship. And as with any romance, there had to be obstacles—antagonists to challenge their path, villains to sharpen the contrast of their love.

That role had been handed to Asahin Valmoor.

The infamous half-brother. The unwanted son. The villain.

Asahin, born two years after Darrien to his father's beta wife, had been everything a perfect antagonist should be—obsessed with Kaylen, bitterly envious of his older brother, erratic in behavior, cruel in his plotting, and wholly unreasonable. According to the novel, Asahin's obsession had begun abruptly, upon Kaylen and Darrien's return from abroad, just a year after Darrien's manifestation. He had started stalking Kaylen, stealing his belongings, finding any excuse to be near him. But things became particularly volatile whenever he saw Kaylen and Darrien together. He would spiral into violent outbursts, sometimes to the point of collapsing from the sheer intensity of his emotions.

His precarious physical condition was explained by an accident.

At fifteen, Asahin had fallen from a tree, hitting his head and severely damaging his not-yet developed pheromone glands at the nape of his neck. The injury had put him in a coma for nearly a year, during which his omega manifestation had occurred—a rare and unfortunate circumstance. With his glands permanently damaged, Asahin had been left unable to secrete or perceive pheromones, an affliction that rendered him defective in the rigid hierarchy of their society. It was said that this loss made him unstable, irritable, prone to sudden fits of rage.

From the moment his obsession with Kaylen began to the moment he took his own life in prison, a little over a year and a half had passed.

A tragic villain, his downfall seemingly inevitable.

But something wasn't adding up.

David closed his eyes, sifting through the scattered remnants of Asahin's memories that had bled into his own upon waking. The person in those memories… wasn't the one described in the novel.

Yes, Asahin had his outbursts—episodes of irritation, moments of intense discomfort, an aversion to crowded spaces. But he wasn't the erratic, obsessive monster the novel painted him as. If anything, he was withdrawn. Quiet. Isolated. He barely interacted with others, avoided social gatherings whenever possible, and carried a loneliness so deep it felt woven into his very existence.

He had suffered, that much was clear. But it wasn't the suffering of a villain clawing for something he couldn't have. It was the suffering of someone who had been cast aside, misunderstood, and left to navigate a world that had already decided his worth for him.

And if that was the case… then what else had the novel gotten wrong?

David exhaled slowly, his mind settling on the most pressing issue at hand.

In six months, Asahin would be accused of attempting to poison Darrien and would be thrown into prison. There, he would meet his supposed end.

That couldn't happen.

If David was truly inhabiting this body—if he had somehow been given a second chance at life in this world—then he refused to let it end in the same tragic cycle. He needed to rewrite Asahin's fate, starting now.

First, he had to distance himself from the image of the obsessed, unhinged omega.

Second, he had to find a way to break free from his family's grip.

Third, he had to secure a future for himself—one that didn't involve becoming a footnote in someone else's love story.

Six months. That was all the time he had.

The upcoming Valmoor party would be his first step.

Tonight, he would meet Kaylen Morrison for the first time since waking up in this world - along with Darrien, the supposed love of Kaylen's life. And he would begin laying the groundwork to free himself from the chains of this narrative.

Asahin turned toward the mirror, studying his reflection. Pale skin, dark circles beneath his eyes, a frail frame that hinted at years of neglect rather than malice. He looked nothing like the villain they all believed him to be. And he would try his best to convince everyone that he wasn't one either.

With renewed determination, Asahin began preparing for the evening ahead.

---

The Kingdom of Varrunna, where the novel took place, mirrored modern society in many ways—cars, skyscrapers, technology—but with one crucial difference: the existence of secondary genders—alpha, beta, and omega. Even within these categories, strict hierarchies divided them into first, second, and third classes based on pheromone control, physical capabilities, and intellectual attributes.

Betas formed the majority, making up 60% of the population, while alphas accounted for 30%, and omegas, the rarest, only 10%. First-class alphas and omegas, however, were anomalies—less than 1% of their respective groups, making Kaylen Morrison and Darrien Valmoor statistical impossibilities.

The Morrisons had always produced alphas, though first-class ones were rare, while the Valmoors bore mostly betas and the occasional omega, with an alpha emerging only once every few generations. Male omegas could bear children with both alphas and betas, and first-class omegas were the most fertile of them all. If a first-class omega conceived, the chance of their child being a first-class alpha or omega was an astonishing 80%, regardless of the other parent's classification. But omega males could only carry life—they could never sire it. In contrast, female alphas could both conceive and impregnate betas and omegas alike.

David shook his head, trying to understand the complexities of the world his sister had created. No. He was not David anymore. He was Asahin. If he wanted to survive in this world, he needed to embrace that identity fully.

His footsteps echoed along the marbled halls as he made his way to the ballroom. The Valmoor estate, standing for over a thousand years, boasted opulent gardens, grand halls, and extravagant decor that spoke of wealth as old as time. While modern buildings had been added to the grounds over the centuries, the main house remained a relic of aristocratic grandeur, a palace frozen in time.

Asahin's quarters were not in the main building. His father had gifted his mother a separate wing upon their marriage—a quiet annex that became Asahin's upon her death when he was eight years old. The distance from the main house had always been a reminder of his place in the family—an afterthought, a ghost of his mother's existence.

Yet he did not resent the long walk. It gave him time to observe, to absorb, to prepare. He moved through a world adorned with crystal chandeliers and gold filigree, wrapped in a deep-purple suit that contrasted against his pale skin, exuding an elegance that set him apart. He was taller than most omegas, with a body that was supposed to be lean yet strong, though it appeared frail due to prolonged suffering. His features were striking rather than delicate. Unlike his half-brother Darrien, who possessed the ethereal beauty of a first-class omega, Asahin's allure was unconventional—sharp edges rather than soft curves.

He entered the ballroom.

The moment he stepped in, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations lulled. Eyes turned toward him, filled with judgment.

An omega, especially a third-class defective one, should not hold himself like that. He should be gentle, submissive, unobtrusive. That's what all those eyes were telling him.

And yet, Asahin carried himself with a presence that defied expectations. He met their scrutiny with cold detachment—neither defiant nor apologetic. After all, he was not the original owner of this body. He had never been the submissive, cowering type in his other life.

Then, his gaze locked onto him.

Darrien.

Golden-haired, blue-eyed, draped in an outfit tailored to perfection. Every inch of him was designed to captivate. He was the ideal omega—delicate, alluring, desired.

And he was glaring at Asahin with undisguised hatred.

Asahin felt the weight of that loathing settle into his bones. The intensity of it was suffocating. What had he done to deserve such malice? He could not remember. 

Then, standing beside him, was Kaylen Morrison.

The moment Asahin's eyes landed on him, the world tilted.

Tall, powerful, dark-haired—Kaylen exuded an effortless dominance that made the very air in the room feel heavier. His gray eyes were stormy, unreadable, sharp enough to cut through stone. He was the epitome of a first-class alpha—strength incarnate, presence undeniable.

A visceral reaction overtook Asahin. His breath hitched, his heartbeat thundered. It was like being pulled under by an unseen force, dragged into an ocean he had no hope of escaping. His body tensed, overwhelmed by something primal, something unexplainable.

He had not been prepared for this.

"Asahin!" A voice rang through the air, sharp, commanding, furious.

His father, Nevid Valmoor, a second-class alpha. The only alpha of his generation.

The room froze. All attention turned toward the head of the Valmoor family as he approached, his face a mask of barely contained rage.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was low, seething. "Did I not forbid you from attending these events?"

Asahin stiffened. "But the butler said you requested my presence."

His father's expression flickered with confusion, then switched to disbelief. He thought Asahin was lying.

That was when Asahin realized this was a setup. A trap.

A smirk curled at the edge of Darrien's lips.

Understanding settled in Asahin's gut like a stone.

They had orchestrated this.

Darrien and his mother, playing their games, weaving their deceptions. They had set him up, ensuring he walked straight into humiliation.

A rush of heat flooded his veins—not from embarrassment, but from fury.

Then—pain.

A sharp, crushing agony in his skull. A flood of images.

His stepmother's sickly sweet smile. The cold detachment in his father's eyes. The whispers of the staff, the silent cruelty, the betrayals.

Memories slammed into him all at once, drowning him in truth.

He had never been the villain. It had always been them.

His breath turned shallow, his vision swam, his knees weakened. His father was still speaking, berating him, but the words blurred, became insignificant.

Then, another voice. Deep. Raspy. Irritated.

"What's going on?"

Kaylen.

Asahin turned toward him, and the moment he did, a scent hit him like a tidal wave.

Vanilla. Spice. Something bitter. Something metallic. Addictive, yet painful.

His body reacted instantly.

His knees buckled. His vision darkened. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.

The world was tilting, spinning, collapsing around him. Before he could stop himself, he was clinging to Kaylen, fingers grasping at the fabric of his sleeve, desperate for something—anything—to anchor him.

Darrien's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with accusation. "Brother, what are you doing?"

A pair of hands tried to tear him away from Kaylen, but Asahin's body refused to move. He was shaking, struggling to remain upright.

Then—his legs gave out completely.

He braced for the cold impact of the marble floor.

But it never came.

Instead, the warmth of strong arms enveloped him. A firm chest. An embrace that held him steady, grounding him in a world that had just moments ago threatened to swallow him whole.

His last thought before the darkness consumed him was a name.

Kaylen Morrison.