"When a man or a prince is strong and powerful he can make peace as he wants to, but when he is weak, a stronger one will come and do what he wants to him."

—Vlad Tepes.

The moon was red, fire tongues extended to the sky lighting it up in the middle of the night. A bloody light exposed the bodies that fueled the fires. Piled one on top of the other, alive, the screams burned in their throats, mixing with the crackling of the small bonfires distributed around them. In the center, the archduke watched in silence. Overseeing his evil work. He had thrown some of those bodies, and had ordered his soldiers to imitate him later. Hundreds of bodies were consumed under the open sky, emanating black smoke that dyed the clothes, impregnating them with the nauseating smell of death. The red cape, sooty at the edges, fluttered around his ankles and thighs, the weight of the blood kept it down, accentuating the man's diabolical air, against the black uniform and his dark hair, making him seem strangely immaculate. As if it were beyond the massacre. 

No one was able to see the crimson eyes that shone cruel and cold. Indifferent to the suffering of those who railed against him.

The last of the men was kneeled in front of him. A well-known war hero. Covered in soot, his head almost touched the ground as soldiers held him down. Ignoring his situation, he pushed himself up in a fit of rage.

"Women, children... old people, all dead, do you hate us so much?!"
Shouted the fallen hero.

The archduke's response was a hard look as the corners of his mouth pulled up, his sword penetrating the body in front of him. That was the end. In his mind he could see the black curtain diluting like the ink making the edges.

 GAME OVER

 "Do you want to start a new adventure?"

...Archduke Ebenezer Stockehurt was nothing more than the villain in a maiden game.

***

**

*

A bright morning. The white mansion was warming under the sun and only the weak footsteps of the maid broke the silence in the wide corridors. In a hurry, between her fingers in a silver bowl and the jug clinked. Before turning the next corner, she took a deep breath and straightened his back. The guard guarding the door stood up and took the objects, he would be the one to pass them inside. 
At the sides of the bed, an old doctor held a white and elegant male wrist with a serious expression. And a priest nervously stroked his long beard, waiting.

The doctor shook his head vigorously.

"Then he is dead."

Bitterly leaving his beard, the priest crossed himself, his turn had come. 

"His excellency is gone… the fever, he has finally succumbed to it."

The doctor, putting away his instruments, waved a "leave" to the guard.

"I can't say it's a shame; After everything he did, it seems for the best, although I would have liked to hear him repentant. Maybe then his soul could rest."

"If he had a soul…"

The doctor interrupted him with a serious air. Without hiding the deep displeasure that the dead person caused him.

The two old men looked at each other, without an ounce of sadness. There was no one in the entire kingdom who mourned his death or felt sorry for the bedridden man. So it was natural that the conversation would immediately flow to money and his many possessions. Because the dukes were still alive, there wasn't much to do... but maybe...

¡...!

Both rising to their feet, there was no time to openly express their machinations. A pale, elegant hand clawed through the air, scratching at the invisible material, the soft cushions and crisp sheets falling to the floor. The nightstand ended up overturned on the rug next to the silver water jug. The dead man screamed non-stop, trying to get up, he screamed and screamed. The delicate scarf that covered her face spilled and also fell on her exposed chest. 

Beside him, the priest was on the verge of fainting, clinging to his conscience out of pure pride he swallowed a curse.

"But what the… I mean, oh my god!"

Behind him the old butler was no better, however, accustomed to difficult situations and his master's character, he quickly composed himself, turning towards the door with trembling legs and a frizzy mustache.

"Wasn't he already dead?!"

"That's right, check his pulse, nothing for 10 minutes…"

The old men shouted at each other with their voices squeezed in their throats, unable to approach the man who was still agitated. But with Archduke Ebenezer being the greatest villain in the kingdom, it was possible that even hell would disown him and spit him back out.

The villain lived... once again.

***

"A strange roof."

A long, spacious and high ceiling, like those in museums or movie theaters. Already dark, the moonlight only reached the bed, spilling over the expensive carpet. I had never been in that place, however, I recognized that ceiling. I furrowed my eyebrows trying to understand what was happening.

"I died."

 The night before I had closed my eyes, lay on the floor, unable to move, and woke up at dusk with two strangers on either side of my bed... a huge unknown bed, an unknown room, in an unknown world... and the strangest thing of all. everything was myself.

But that was a half lie.

«Did I die? » 

I mentally whispered in disbelief, lowering my shoulders limply, trying to assimilate it faster. Looking I noticed what I hadn't wanted to notice. The small blue screen flickered white letters in front of my face, floating in space:

 TUTORIAL INTRO

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. It was painfully familiar and at the same time disconcerting. I had read stories ad nauseam where people suddenly found themselves with "little screens" like those. I wasn't going to lie, I also fantasized about it happening to me with the absolute certainty that it would never happen. Swallowing, embarrassed, I looked around as I reached out with a trembling hand, trying to touch the screen and check that it was real.

Ebenezer Stockehurt
 Age 24 y.o.
 Archduke of Urraka
 Attribute: Villain

PAF!

"Sir Farand, please stop!"

The door, in sync, slammed against the walls with a sound that would make a modern person with metal and plastic doors jump ten stories. Chichi would be proud to see me arch my back and dig my spindly fingers into the duvet with a deranged look. 
The old butler followed closely behind a tall, thin older man, unable to stop him. The elegant heels replicated all the way to her bed. Up close the man was strangely attractive and…familiar.

PAF!

The stranger's bony gloved hand hit my cheek with such force that turned my head and fell back onto the bed, between the white pillows. It hurt, it hurt a lot, I had never been hit in my life and all I could do was clench my chin and press the inflamed flesh against the cold silk. I squirmed, gritting my teeth, but it didn't last long. Annoyed, I looked up to glare at him, surprising myself at the great hatred that filled my chest. I didn't know him at all, but I hated him deeply. This body hated him and in tune with the feeling, it moved on its own. Slowly, Archduke Ebenezer straightened his back and squared his thin shoulders. Sitting with catlike elegance on the edge of the bed. He stretched out his arms, which in a minute were covered by a blood-colored robe by the maids, and tied the ribbon himself around his small waist. Completely ignoring the swollen cheek and mouth broken corner, his lazy red eyes landed on his attacker, who was slightly taller.

"I see you are still as vulgar as ever."

«what.. what is this?»

Somehow I had gone into automatic mode and my body wasn't obeying me.