Volume 1, Chapter 1 – The Beginning of Captivity

Qi Ri felt an inexplicable chill, as if someone was calling him.

“□□□□, □□□□?”

Subconsciously, he turned toward the voice and saw a stunningly beautiful noble girl, about 15 or 16 years old, with golden hair and crimson eyes. Her aristocratic demeanor was flawless, her appearance worthy of a perfect score. She looked anxious, her brows furrowed in a way that made one instinctively want to help.

But Qi Ri had never seen this noble girl before, and the language she spoke was one he had never heard.

Standing still, he began to survey his surroundings. It was a dimly lit room illuminated by candlelight. The stone floor was scattered with straw, and the air carried a faint trace of blood. The wooden-barred door and the various shackles hanging on the wall immediately reminded Qi Ri of a prison cell from a movie.

Where is this?

Almost instinctively, he looked down at the spiked whip in his hand and then at another girl tied to a wooden horse in the corner. The girl’s back was covered in bruises, her face drenched in sweat as she clearly struggled to endure the pain.

“Ugh…”

The girl on the wooden horse let out a whimper, lifting her head with difficulty to look at Qi Ri—or rather, at the whip in his hand—her tear-filled eyes brimming with fear of further suffering.

Who is this girl? Why is she being treated like this? Qi Ri glanced at the whip.

Did I… whip her?

No, absolutely not.

Qi Ri immediately dismissed the thought. He had shut down his computer and lain in bed a while ago, complaining to online friends about his insomnia before finally drifting off to sleep.

Wait… is this a dream? But if it is, it feels way too real.

The moment this thought crossed his mind, a thunderous roar erupted in his brain, as if the universe had exploded at its singularity. A flood of information surged into Qi Ri’s mind in an instant.

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This was the heartland of the Ymir Theocracy within the Human Alliance—the city of Niru.

The golden-haired, crimson-eyed noble girl was his younger sister. The girl tied to the wooden horse was a vampire slave. And as for himself—he was now the daughter of the count of the vampire race Hyurent, the sole heir to the Pescia Territory: Loiswell Edith Pescia.

The reason the slave girl had been whipped was because Loiswell, the Count’s eldest daughter, had a sadistic streak.

But if he was a vampire, why was he in the territory of the Church?

The moment this question arose, the answer rushed into Qi Ri’s mind like a tidal wave.

Due to the death of the Demon King Ouranos, tensions had flared between the Human Alliance and the vampires, who had long been at peace. During the struggle for the Demon King’s corpse, Qi Ri—now Loiswell—had attempted to forcibly absorb the body, causing a magical overload that knocked her unconscious. In the chaos, she and her servants had been captured by the Church. However, since a bishop from the Church had also been taken by the vampires, both sides had agreed to a prisoner exchange. As a result, the Church had not mistreated her. On the contrary, they had provided her with comfortable accommodations.

Is this part of the dream’s setting too?

Qi Ri was utterly bewildered. Sure, he had had bizarre dreams before, but never one with such an elaborate backstory. More importantly, he had somehow turned into a girl in this dream—he looked down at himself. His petite frame seemed no older than fourteen. It was all too surreal.

Well, setting aside the absurdity of the setting… Even if this is a dream, I can’t accept the idea of whipping a girl.

“Onee-sama, are you going back now?”

Qi Ri glanced at the puzzled noble girl—his younger sister. Her name was Camilla Pescia, and she had been captured alongside him. During their imprisonment, she had been the one taking care of him.

Though he didn’t understand how he could comprehend Camilla’s language, Qi Ri didn’t dwell on it. He waved his hand dismissively.

“I’m bored. I’m going back.”

“Understood. What about this slave…?”

“Return her to where she was before.”

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“Very well.”

At first glance, this might seem abrupt. According to his memories, the Count’s eldest daughter had only just begun her torture session. But given that Loiswell was known for her capricious and unpredictable nature, Qi Ri’s sudden disinterest actually fit the character.

Accompanied by Camilla, Qi Ri soon returned to the bedroom above the dungeon.

The moment he laid eyes on the room’s furnishings, he was struck with awe.

The roughly thirty-square-meter chamber was filled with the scent of incense. A massive canopy bed dominated the space, while the walls were adorned with intricate carvings of brown roses. A dazzling crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, glowing brilliantly even in daylight. Even the placement of the side tables was meticulously deliberate, not to mention the rapier and oil paintings mounted on the walls. If Qi Ri had to describe it in one word, he could only think of noble manor.

Can a dream really be this detailed?

Combined with the flood of memories in his mind, Qi Ri began to suspect that this wasn’t a dream at all. Or rather, he had a rough guess—he had been transported to another world.

Though he had fantasized about transmigration before, the moment the possibility became real, an uncontrollable wave of fear and confusion surged within him. Distraught, he first instructed Camilla to wait outside, then leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

“This can’t be real…”

He pinched his flawless, unmarked forearm. Pain followed immediately—this was no dream. In other words, he had actually crossed into another world.

“No… Maybe this is a game. If it’s Ragnarøk, then this level of realism wouldn’t be surprising.”

Ragnarøk was a massively multiplayer role-playing game Qi Ri had played before. Since players could experience an immersive, lifelike virtual reality through the game pod, it wasn’t impossible for this to be part of the game.

“But those memories in my head… Did the game operators implant them? Is this some kind of event?”

In theory, players lying in game pods could indeed have their memories and sensations altered by the operators, turning them into something akin to a brain in a vat. But doing so would be both labor-intensive and legally risky, with no tangible benefits. Qi Ri couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind it.

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“Sigh—forget it. If this isn’t a game but reality, then I need to figure out how to escape. Panicking won’t help.”

Suppressing the anxiety and discomfort of transmigration, Qi Ri kept one hand against the wall and began sorting through the extra memories in his mind.

He was now Loiswell Edith Pescia, the eldest daughter of Count Pescia of the vampire race. Currently held captive by the Human Alliance, he was to be exchanged for a Church bishop captured by the vampires.

Though he wasn’t being mistreated at the moment, there was no guarantee the humans would remain benevolent.

Thus, his first goal was clear: escape captivity.

But how? This world seemed to have magic, and the Count’s eldest daughter was a spellcaster capable of wielding it. Yet even she hadn’t managed to escape. Could he do it? The answer was obviously no. Qi Ri immediately dismissed the idea of a violent breakout. Being treated well now didn’t mean the humans would stay kind if he resisted. The worst-case scenario was being thrown into a dungeon—an outcome he had to avoid at all costs.

After much deliberation, Qi Ri took a deep breath.

“No matter what, I have to adapt to this environment. From now on, I am Loiswell Edith Pescia—or ‘Yisi’ for short.”

After setting the goal, Qi Ri—now Yisi—walked to the round table in the room.

Just in case, I need to confirm whether this was a game or reality.

She raised her hand and drew a cross in the air, just as she would in a game, trying to summon the menu interface. But no window appeared. She repeated this over ten times, all ending in failure.

This isn’t a game.

Yisi’s heart sank. In a game, death meant respawning. But in reality, there were no second chances. In other words, she had truly crossed into another world—one where death was permanent. The fear threatening to overwhelm her was so intense she could feel his hands trembling.

No. I can’t give up here. If I’m found out, it’s over.

Yisi shook his head, forcing his scattered thoughts to focus.

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“What if I use this world’s magic, like the Count’s daughter?”

Magic in this world required incantations to cast. Thanks to the memories left by the original Loiswell, reciting them shouldn’t be too difficult.

—Or so she thought.

Yisi attempted to chant a spell, but his inability to grasp the rhythm led to failure. Just because the original could do it didn’t mean she could.

Am I already at a dead end right after transmigrating?

A sense of powerlessness washed over her. Though she could feel the magical energy flowing within his body, she couldn’t find the key to unleash it.

But just as this thought crossed his mind, an inexplicable intuition flashed through Yisi’s mind. What if I don’t rely on a method but instead will the magic into existence through sheer thought? It wasn’t divine inspiration—just a gut feeling, something close to a sixth sense.

With no other options, Yisi decided to give it a try. She stood up—his light-blue dress proving annoyingly cumbersome—and focused all his attention on a single point. If she could indeed use magic through imagination alone, then the most suitable spell for escaping captivity would undoubtedly be [Advanced Teleportation].

“In the game, using [Advanced Teleportation] feels like this…”

Recalling the sensation of disorientation and weightlessness from [Advanced Teleportation], Yisi held his breath. To reinforce the concept, she even whispered the spell’s name aloud.

“—[Advanced Teleportation].”

Bzzt.

Like static noise from an old TV with poor reception, the room flickered with a brief bzzt sound. But the disturbance lasted only an instant before vanishing—along with the silver-haired, blue-eyed Yisi.

Yisi had successfully cast [Advanced Teleportation].