Slapped Upon Possession
Crack—!
A clear, sharp sound echoed through the Star Chamber. For a moment, I froze, my head turned slightly to the side, unable to process a single thought. My cheek didn't sting or burn. There was no sensation I could call pain. I'd clearly been struck, yet it felt strangely painless, almost miraculous.
But something far more shocking had my attention.
What the fuck…?
Did I just… get slapped by this woman?
Absurdly enough, it was my first time. I'd gone through life without ever taking a punch, let alone from anyone—and now, from a woman I'd never even seen before, with a resounding open-palm slap to the face. It was so unreal that the daze hit me before any pain could.
I slowly turned my gaze. A woman stood before me. No, calling her just a woman didn't do her justice; she was a dazzling beauty. Pale platinum blonde hair cascaded softly below her shoulders. Her face, framed by perfectly arranged locks, was coldly exquisite, and her gray eyes, tinged with blue, brimmed with tears.
She's fucking gorgeous…
Dressed in the prim attire of a noble lady, her posture straight and unflinching—yet right now, her expression had utterly crumbled.
Hold on. This woman… she looks familiar.
The fiancée of the trash crown prince, the villainess noble lady. Aurelia Bellatrice von Estelhart.
The name surfaced in my mind without warning. And with it, the identity of this body.
Kainar Iskara von Solaríos. The wastrel crown prince who rampaged like a madman in the original story, only to be dethroned and die pathetically.
"…You're truly too much."
Aurelia spoke in a trembling voice. She was looking at me—or rather, glaring with forced intensity. Her tearful eyes teetered on the brink of collapse, but the anger and hurt within them remained undimmed.
"Even if Your Highness holds no affection for me… surely there was no need to go that far with your words?"
I couldn't remember what had been said. No, precisely—it hadn't been my words. Fuck. It was the original owner of this body who had spat them out.
But I knew. They must have been venomous enough to tear a person apart.
"To mention another woman's name in front of your fiancée and humiliate me on the spot."
Her voice finally cracked.
"Was I… truly so worthless to Your Highness?"
I opened my mouth without thinking.
"Wait a moment."
I had to make an excuse. No, not an excuse—a clarification. Because those words hadn't come from me just now. At least, not from the current me.
But the instant I spoke, Aurelia had already stepped back. Her eyes wavered—not from hope, but from fear, resignation, and the last shreds of her pride.
"That's enough."
Her low words were startlingly composed.
"No matter what else you say, I doubt it could hurt more than the insult I've already heard today."
"No, that's not—"
"Don't call for me anymore, Your Highness."
With that, Aurelia turned and left. The Star Chamber's door flew open roughly, then slammed shut almost violently. The sound of her footsteps faded quickly into the distance, leaving silence in their wake.
"What the fuck…"
I stared at the closed door, my face blank. Should I chase after her? The thought flickered briefly.
But my body wouldn't move. The situation was too sudden, too chaotic. Just moments ago, I'd been savoring the harmony of ramen and kimchi. Now, I'd come to in the body of a novel's wastrel crown prince—and the moment I did, his fiancée slapped me.
Fuck, what is this?
I slowly raised my hand to the cheek that had been struck. It felt like a hard hit, but there was no pain. My skin was smooth, the sensation under my fingertips strangely unfamiliar yet perfect.
And then, my eyes caught the full-length mirror standing nearby.
Drawn by some force, I walked toward it. In that instant, my breath caught.
It wasn't me in the reflection.
"Am I really possessed into the crown prince…?"
Please tell me it's a dream. Eyes stinging with their pure white hair filled my vision—not mere light silver, but a snow-white that seemed to dissolve in sunlight. The strands falling over his eyes were impossibly soft and vivid, more like light sculpted atop a statue than human hair.
And beneath them, blood-red eyes. Red wasn't enough to describe them—not the light crimson of flames, nor the murky hue of wine. It was a sharp, chilling scarlet, like blood on the verge of clotting.
Those crimson eyes stared straight back at me.
The face went without saying. Insanely handsome. No—handsome was too mild. It was as if a god had meticulously crafted it. The nose bridge was impossibly straight, the jawline sharply refined, the eyes coldly elongated. The skin was pale and flawless.
Yet there was no sickly air. Even standing still, it exuded an overwhelming presence, an unreal perfection. He didn't seem naturally born; he looked manufactured.
A face so beautiful it bordered on eerie. And the body was perfect too. Through the disheveled crown prince's indoor robes, his shoulders and neckline gleamed—balanced frame, not an ounce of excess fat. This wasn't just the result of heavy training. It was a masterpiece of power and elegance fused together. Just looking at it told you how strong this body was.
Sword Master.
The term flashed through my mind. A human who reached the pinnacle through swordsmanship alone, without aura or qi. Ageless, undying, a monster with a flawless physique.
The man in the mirror was that monster.
"Ha… this is insane."
A hollow laugh escaped me. This appearance was so overpowered it felt like cheating.
The problem was that its owner—the crown prince—had been the empire's most hated trash in the original story, despised for his rotten personality.
I glared at the reflection for a long while before finally pressing my forehead.
"Fuck…"
Fifteen minutes since possession. How many times had I said "fuck" already? No idea. But in this situation, curses spilled out inevitably. Truly, sincerely.
"Why this body, of all things?"
Because he's the crown prince? Handsome? A Sword Master? None of that mattered now. This body was a ticking time bomb, doomed to ruin in the original tale.
He wielded power in place of the emperor, comatose for five years, rotting the empire from within. He trampled his fiancée, obsessed madly over the heroine, and ultimately fell to noble factions and foreign schemes—dethroned and dead.
Ha. The setup was detailed and fucking exquisite.
And I knew the ending. That's why it was even more horrifying.
"Please tell me it's all a lie…"
I was on the verge of losing it. I desperately needed some saving grace.
As I muttered, I suddenly sensed presences outside the Star Chamber. People holding their breath.
Instinctively, I opened the door and stepped out.
The vast, long corridor of the Imperial Palace stretched before me. Marble floors gleamed smoothly, towering pillars rose high, red carpets lay pristine, and imperial crests adorned the walls—silently proclaiming the grandeur of the place.
Lined along both sides were attendants and maids. Or rather, they were frozen stiff.
They're watching my mood, right? Haha, this is nuts.
The moment I emerged, some flinched, shoulders trembling. Young maids in uniforms bowed their heads deeply, avoiding my eyes; attendants bit their lips in rigid tension. One's fingertips shook.
As if waiting only for me to pass.
No—that was exactly it. Kainar Iskara von Solaríos, crown prince. No one in this corridor dared lift their gaze.
I walked silently through them. Tap, tap. Only the light echo of my footsteps crossed the hall. No one dared even breathe loudly.
It was pathetically overt fear—not of a person, but like cowering from a beast or disaster.
It hit me viscerally. Ah, this guy was really that bad.
His stats were lopsided: martial prowess EX-rank, personality FFF-rank, reputation FFF-rank, charm FFF-rank. Treated worse than livestock.
Even with that insanely handsome face, his wastrel personality ruined everything.
Reverse harem material gone wrong.
As I rounded the corner and vanished from sight, faint voices leaked from behind. My original body might not have heard, but a Sword Master's physique granted transcendent hearing, impossible to ignore.
"Lady Estelhart just ran out crying…"
"Shh, whisper."
"Still, wasn't that too much? She's his fiancée."
"Quiet! If His Highness hears, we're dead!"
A brief silence. Then, even lower:
"The crown prince's temper isn't new, but… this time, talk of breaking the engagement is really swirling."
"The Estelhart ducal house won't stay silent."
"Who could stop him, though…"
"Making even a duke's daughter cry like that."
"Rumors will spread through the capital in no time."
I didn't stop walking. But inside, a chill settled deeper.
If palace maids spoke like that, this body's reputation had plummeted past rock bottom into the abyss.
Not just a cold, scary crown prince. One who wounded people, treated even his fiancée like dirt, and drew tsks behind his back. A true personality-bankrupt crown prince.
"Ha… how do I even fix this?"
I exhaled lowly. No room for feeling wronged anymore. I'd entered this body, but its owner created this mess.
Fucking bastard. Did he pass the buck to me before dying?
A Sword Master dying naturally? Doubtful. Worse, now I had to bear all his karma.
I slowly turned my gaze to the corridor window. The sky beyond the palace was clear. Too peaceful.
Utterly opposite my current state, like fate mocking me.
At this point in the empire, the surface seemed fine. But inside, rot festered. Noble corruption, frontier decay, conspiracies around his siblings, and the eventual dethronement plot against him.
A crucial question surfaced.
Wait. What's the current emperor's condition?
This was the original story's starting point. With the emperor comatose for five years, Kainar became the de facto ruler. His arrogant reign sowed all the seeds of doom.
So, exactly where was this timeline? Was the emperor still alive, truly unconscious, or had things progressed further than I remembered?
I needed to confirm. Right now.
I halted and turned sharply. One attendant flinched, bowing deeply as if kneeling.
"Y-Your Highness…"
"Where is His Majesty's chambers?"
My voice came out far lower and colder than expected—even to me, it sent chills down my spine.
The attendant paled and answered.
"H-He has been moved to Seongiljeon in the sacred palace."
Seongiljeon. A memory clicked. The isolated annex within the palace for the emperor's long-term recovery. In the original, only a select few could enter.
I didn't reply, heading straight there.
I had to check the emperor's state. And pinpoint where we were in the original timeline—how much time I had left.
Because I was going to survive.
"To there, then."
"Y-Your Highness?!"
My pace quickened naturally. White hair swayed over the red carpet, crimson eyes glinting coldly in the window light.
Passing attendants and knights froze en masse. The crown prince everyone feared. The monster who'd already ruined too much.
But my mind held one thought.
I have to survive. The original offered no detailed account of how a near-absolute Sword Master like the crown prince died—just a single line ending his fate in tragedy.
To avoid dethronement, death, that original abyss—I first needed to see where the empire's rot began.
And that started at the bedside of the emperor, unconscious for five years.
At the end of the long corridor to Seongiljeon, a firmly shut platinum door came into view.
I steadied my breath before it. Then reached out.
The sight awaiting me beyond—would it match the original I remembered, or not?
The moment I confirmed it, everything would begin.