HPV 1

The body I possessed was the worst.
Even at a young age, I was beaten daily, insulted, and fed food unfit even for a dog.
A damp underground corridor reeking of mustiness. A large man in a black robe struck my head. My neck jerked forward from the force.

“I told you not to take bread from the kitchen without permission, didn’t I? You’re skin and bones, but you eat like a pig. Can’t even keep your own room clean.”

Pale cheeks that gave the impression of being an orphan. Distinct facial features for a child, deep olive eyes. Shimmering platinum-blonde hair—so radiant that one might mistake me for an elf.
But by the time I turned eight, born and raised in this cult, every one of my traits had been reduced to nothing more than trash.

A failed candidate for the next cult leader.
That was the title I earned that year.

“You are no longer a candidate for the cult leader. You’re just a worthless mouth to feed.”

From that day, my life became hell. My fine silk garments, clean silverware, hairbrush made of precious jade—everything I had was stripped away at once.
A damp underground room full of rats. That was where I’d be abused and live until the day I died.

As soon as the man left, I uncurled my body. I rubbed my still-throbbing head.
At least he didn’t hit my side or thigh. I knew how long the aftereffects lasted if you were struck in a vital spot—just getting hit on the head meant I was lucky.

I returned to my room and crouched beside the filthy, ragged bed. Peeking underneath it, I heard a faint squeak—like a tiny animal.
I pulled out the piece of bread I’d managed to steal from the kitchen earlier, even while being beaten. A small, gray rat scurried out.

It would be generous to call a sewer rat cute. Even when I carefully offered it food, it often bit my fingers without a second thought.
Still, that rat was my only friend. As it munched on the bread, a small smile tugged at my lips.

But a few days later, one of the cultists found out I’d been secretly keeping the rat.
It wasn’t because the rat made my room dirty. As if the cultists cared about the condition of my room. No—it was simply because I adored it.

Grinning, the cultist skewered the rat right in front of me and killed it. Then they roasted it and served it to me for dinner.
I bit my lip until it bled, holding back tears. I didn’t want to cry in front of them, even if it killed me.

“Open this brat’s mouth and shove it in. You should be grateful—you’re getting meat for once. What’s with that face?”

One cultist held my thin, frail body down. As I struggled, another slapped my cheek hard. A scream escaped me before I could stop it.
They grabbed me by the hair, violating me with ease—and then, in the corner of my vision, I saw someone.

A white ceremonial robe, marked with the insignia of the highest-ranking clergy.
The cultists immediately bowed their heads in reverence.

“L-Lord Hancanera!”

I was released at once. I lowered my head even before they could hit me again. I could feel the man in white staring directly at me.

He was three years older than me—caught somewhere between boy and young man, with porcelain skin and an air of nobility.
He was the one chosen by the spirit Rohin, whom the cult revered.
The day I was cast down into the underground, he was raised up to the cult’s seat of honor.

The cultists worshipped him as much as they scorned me. All he had to do was glance my way, and they immediately changed their tune—pretending as if they’d never laid a hand on me.

“The hallway is noisy. Mind yourselves.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”

I glanced up at Hancanera. I hadn’t expected anything… but when I saw him raise his sleeve to cover his mouth, my heart turned cold.
I was certain I heard a stifled laugh. That moment—when they were trying to shove that rat meat into my mouth—he must’ve enjoyed it most. Pretending to be refined.

That’s the kind of person Hancanera was. He had always been wary of me.
Once he became the chosen one, he drowned in superiority.

The greasy stench of the roasted meat made my stomach turn. The cultists didn’t offer me any other food. I went hungry that night, hiding in my room.

‘I can’t even die if I want to. They’re keeping me alive just in case. Afraid the spirit might get angry if they kill a former candidate.’
I wanted to disappear. That thought consumed me every single day.

Until I turned eighteen, I merely withered away. My eyes were lifeless. I was breathing, but not alive.

But on my eighteenth birthday, everything changed.
Fragments of memories from my past life came back.
This was the world of a game I’d been obsessed with in my previous life.

From that day, I waited. For two more years, I kept my head down.
Waiting for the moment when the main story of the game would begin.

It happened on the day I turned twenty.

The rags I wore—worse than what the lowest servant in the cult would wear—hung loosely on my body.
I got up at dawn and quietly straightened my clothes. Through the barred slit in the door, I saw a cultist’s eyes watching me.

Since puberty, their gazes had changed.
Sometimes, the way they looked at my pale skin and long neck was unmistakably lecherous.

They sometimes sent me openly vile, lustful gazes—but for some reason, they never went as far as to crush me under their bodies. Likely because they feared incurring the wrath of the spirit.

Just as I had come of age in this filthy, wretched place, so too had they grown older.

“They must’ve stuffed themselves fat on the donations of commoners from outside. Honestly, those outdated relics don’t scare me anymore.”

Their torment no longer drained my will. With that, their violence was reduced to locking the underground bolts and chaining my ankles.

As petty and loathsome as they were, even the cultists couldn’t completely overlook the youthful radiance of someone who had once been a candidate for the high priest.

My pale feet dragged the cold iron shackles along the steel hallway. I heard murmuring voices from the staircase leading up from the basement. Hiding behind a corner, I listened quietly.
“An ominous contaminant has been sighted in the Byahil Forest.”

“How dare such filth set foot in a forest where our cult’s power flows…”

“A half-blood between human and monster. An impurity that violates the laws of nature. If such a thing is in the forest, the spirit will surely be enraged.”

The corners of my mouth twisted upward.

That’s it. My lifeline.

The story had begun. What they just said was identical to the game’s opening dialogue.

The tale of the half-blood beast who appeared in the forest.

He was one of the main characters of the game. In other words, no matter how much the cultists loathed him, he wasn’t someone who would die here.

“If I follow him, I can survive.”

The Byahil Forest was close to the cult grounds. All I had to do was escape the underground. That was the hardest part, of course.

After confirming the half-blood’s appearance, I returned to my room.

I recalled the layout of the cult’s building. As if a map had unfolded before me, memories from my previous life flashed vividly in my mind.

No character in the game came from the Rohin Cult. However, one of the story episodes was set here, so the entire building layout had been implemented in-game.

I’d spent the last two years planning my escape using that information.

For example: the location of the key that unlocks the shackle on my ankle.

Or the fact that every couple of months, many of the cultists leave the premises to purify their sanctum and meet with commoners—and that today was one of those days.

Today’s my only chance.

This was the escape I had waited so long for. My heart pounded. Though anxiety tightened my chest, my body moved faster than ever before.

I avoided the cultists’ eyes and darted through the halls using the secret passages. My first objective was the room where the key was kept, but—

“Kgh!”

A sharp force struck through me like it pierced the air itself. I staggered to one side and collapsed without resistance.

Thump. Cold shoes stepped before me.

“So you really tried to crawl out of your hole… You were meant to rot in the basement for the rest of your life.”

I had welcomed the passage of time that had hardened me—but there was one thing I hadn’t welcomed at all.

The person standing before me had come of age as well. And now he possessed the dignity to match it.

Hancanera—the high priest, now fully grown into a man—looked down at me with scorn. As if unleashing something long restrained, the power of trees burst from his pure white figure.

Faced with a powerful presence, my body trembled. My slender neck spasmed, and my knees buckled. I fell to my knees at Hancanera’s feet.

His gaze landed on my exposed ankle—the metal shackle bound around it.

Guards with crossbows had surrounded me before I knew it. Despair weighed heavily on me. Everything felt hopeless.

This had been my first attempt at escape. Having run into Hancanera and failed—would I even get a second chance?

No. I wouldn’t. After today, the man in the Byahil Forest would disappear. I would never escape the cult.

“Child. Do you wish to leave?”

Then, a voice I couldn’t identify pierced through my chest.

“A force that intruded without permission flooded my heart. My eyes flew wide, and I opened my mouth—no sound came out.

Clink. The shackle around my ankle shattered into several pieces.
At that moment, my vision split in two. The small space around me seemed to suddenly separate and fall away. The white figure of the man receded in an instant. It was surreal.

“Catch him!”

Hancanera’s enraged, vicious shout faded into the distance. It was the first time I’d ever seen him lose control like that.

“In return, give me… your…”

The space changed.

I stood in a beautiful forest. The air was so refreshingly pure that I nearly choked on it—like a sewer-dwelling fish suddenly thrown into crystal-clear water.

And before my eyes, he appeared.

One of the game’s main characters—a warrior born of fierce blood, known for his brutal, antisocial nature, and just as powerful.

…And right then, he was about to bathe, stepping into the river stark naked when I suddenly appeared before him.

The man’s red eyes widened. Mine were about to pop out too. He reached for me with a rough hand.

A dull impact hit my stomach. As I felt him strike me unconscious, I lost consciousness.