Episode 1

Keiran arrived home as he did every day, carrying on his shoulders the weight of a monotonous routine and the scars of a painful past. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he dropped his briefcase in the entrance and shed his work clothes with mechanical movements. With a sigh that seemed drawn from the depths of his soul, he collapsed on the sofa in the living room. His eyes fixed on the white ceiling and, out of the corner of his eye, on the lamp that hung in the center of the room, a choice that was never his.

It was an extravagant lamp, one of those that seem to belong in a ballroom rather than a modest apartment. His ex-wife had chosen it with the enthusiasm of someone looking to embellish a space, although for him it always represented a symbol of everything he hated: the superfluous, the pretentious, the unnecessary. However, he had agreed to buy it because she loved it. Or at least he thought she did. Keiran was always willing to yield, to accept her decisions, to put her happiness above his own. All he wanted was to see her smile, to take care of her and protect her, even at the cost of forgetting himself. But now, lying in the lonely apartment they once shared, he couldn't help but wonder if that absolute surrender had been a mistake, if the price of her happiness was too high.

The memories ambushed him, reliving the most humiliating and heartbreaking moment of his life.

"You don't behave like a real man!" Olivia had shouted at him that fateful afternoon, when he discovered her in his bed with another man. Not just any man; it was his own older brother. Her words were like sharp blades that pierced his chest. "You do everything I say without question, and that's absolutely annoying. I only want a masculine man, not a damn servant who obeys all my orders."

Keiran had been paralyzed in front of the scene, unable to utter a word. His heart broke into a thousand pieces as she continued to hurl reproaches at him with the fury of a storm.

"This is your fault," she continued, as she gathered her belongings with clumsy and hurried movements. "If you weren't so... so princessy! We could have been the family you wanted so much. But your brother gives me what you can't. You're not even rough in bed, do you think I enjoy that? I'd like you to act like a real man for once!"

Each word was a blow that sank him further into the abyss of his self-loathing. When Olivia left, hand in hand with his brother, Keiran could do nothing but watch. He wanted to scream, to demand, to demand explanations, he even had the urge to hit his brother for his betrayal. But he didn't. He remained motionless, a prisoner of his own cowardice, convinced that Olivia was right: he was so "unmanly" that he didn't even dare to fight for her, for her love.

Now, in the overwhelming silence of his living room, Keiran managed a bitter smile. The irony was not lost on him. He had spent years striving to be a devoted husband, an exemplary son, and a loyal brother, but all that sacrifice had not been enough to earn the respect or love of his family. Even when his company, founded with his effort and dedication, financially supported them all, they treated him like an intruder, an inferior being who did not deserve their appreciation.

Perhaps it was because his mother was just a humble young woman from the slums, or perhaps because his childhood was spent far from the glitz and glamour that had once defined his family, before ruin reached them. Whatever the reason, the contempt they felt for him was undeniable, a shadow that haunted him in every haughty glance and every word laden with condescension.

The family that should have given him support and love seemed to see him as an anomaly, a stain on the lineage they so revered. To them, he was an uncomfortable reminder of the mistakes of the past, a son born of failure, someone who could never live up to family expectations. Although he had dedicated his life to working hard, to building a name that they themselves had dropped in the dust, his efforts were never enough.

Every gesture of disdain, every poisoned comment, reinforced that sense of alienation. It was as if he wore an invisible mark that separated him from the rest, a label that read: "You don't belong." There were nights when he wondered if it was all his fault, if something in his essence was intrinsically flawed, incapable of earning the love of those who shared his same blood. And although he tried to convince himself that he shouldn't care, the truth was that it hurt. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.

He strove for years to fit in, to prove that he deserved a place in the family. But no matter how much he sacrificed, how much he worked, or how much success he achieved, his origins remained an insurmountable barrier. In their eyes, he would always be "the son of the girl from the slums," an intruder in a world that rejected him.

He had learned to live with contempt, to build walls around his heart to protect himself from the wounds they inflicted. But sometimes, those walls were not strong enough, and the pain seeped through, reminding him that, despite everything, he still longed for something as simple and complex as being accepted.

"I'm pathetic," he muttered, dropping an arm over his eyes, as if to block out reality. He was about to fall asleep when the insistent buzzing of his phone brought him back to the present. He reached for the coffee table, where the device was vibrating incessantly. The name of Tobias, his only friend, appeared on the screen.

"I hope you're not thinking about that bitch again," was the first thing Tobias said when Keiran answered the call. His tone was direct, almost brusque. Keiran frowned; although he no longer loved Olivia, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the derogatory way his friend spoke about her.

"Tob..."

"Yes, yes, I know what you're going to say," Tobias interrupted with a sigh. "But honestly, I can't find another way to call her. That's what she is, a bitch." He paused briefly, but didn't give Keiran time to respond. "Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about her. I want to know if you've read the book I lent you yet."

Keiran glanced quickly around the room until his eyes found the book in question, resting on a corner of the table. He got up, picked it up, and examined the cover: a young woman with red hair and an innocent face dominated the illustration.

"Do I really have to read this?" he muttered dejectedly.

"Of course you do," Tobias replied enthusiastically. "There's a character who has your name! There's even an illustration of him on page twenty-two. You have to see it."

Keiran rolled his eyes and let out a resigned sigh.

"Okay, I'll read it. I'll tell you what I thought of it tomorrow."

"Perfect. See you tomorrow."

When the call ended, Keiran leafed through the book with some reluctance. He went to the kitchen and left the copy on the island while he prepared a light dinner. He thought about how absurd everything was: he was alone, with a plate of bland food, and about to read a fantasy book that he wasn't even interested in.

"Well, I have nothing to lose by reading it," he said to himself, returning to the sofa with the book in one hand and the plate in the other. Maybe the story would serve as a distraction, something that would take him away, even for a few hours, from the chaos that was his life.

And with that thought, he opened the book, unaware that those pages were about to offer him something more than a simple escape.

...****************...

...Hello everyone, this will be my new project. An omegaverse transmigration story, I hope you like it, leave your comments and likes....

...See you soon...

...Happy New Year and may all your goals be fulfilled....

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