Chapter Text
When you opened your eyes, you were sure as shit you were supposed to be on your way to the grocery store.
Tonight was the big night. You decided to blow half your hard earned salary on topshelf liquor for your promotion party. After years of kissing ass and licking literal dogshit off your supervisors shoes, you were stepping up the corporate ladder. What a happy fucking day!
Or, well, it would be, if you weren’t currently locked inside a dark, freezing basement with some guy screaming his lungs out in what you could only guess was spanish. You only knew a few words, mostly thanks to your sister’s habit of loudly practicing her pronunciation while she watched those dramatic telenovelas, but why the hell was this guy speaking spanish? Were you in Spain? How the fuck are you in Spain? And why are you sitting on a hard dirt floor in a basement?
Deciding to tune out the man’s panicked wailing, you took a minute to look around. This basement was... how should you say it? Vile. Yep. Vile. It smelled atrocious, a thick stench like spoiled meat. The room was illuminated only by the flickering light of a few cheap candles, casting long, unsettling shadows over animal bones and rusty weapons hanging from the ceiling. Dry roots and thick grime crept up the cracked stone walls. You scrunched your nose in disgust. Yeah, no one swept this place in a decade. You shifted your weight, gasping as your hand almost slipped into a thick, sticky puddle of dark red paint(?) on the floor. Thank God you caught yourself. You didn't want to ruin the nice pants you were wearing, does paint even wash out?
The man beside you continued to thrash and scream, and you shot him a sharp, scolding glare. Rude. He was dressed in a blue uniform– a police officer, you assumed.
Hey! Lucky you! At least he was a professional with the skills to get you out of here. He was wiggling frantically against his bindings, sweating bullets, and your annoyance quickly morphed into silent encouragement. You go man. Break those ropes.
You were mostly just worried about your captors at this point, whoever dragged you down here didn't do it because they were super friendly.
Wait– did the party already happen? Did you get so blackout drunk you passed out and launched yourself into this weirdass fever dream? You squeezed your eyes shut, straining to think harder.
Then, a flash of memory hit you like a ton of bricks. A car. A pair of blinding headlights barreling directly toward you while you were oblivious, blasting music through your earbuds. Cold dread pooled in your stomach. Did you die? But if you died, where were you? You didn’t recognize this filthy hellhole at all.
Wait... hold on. If you died, and you’re awake right now... what if you actually isekaid into a world just like the manhwas you read every night?!
The thought was an instant boost. That would be super cool. You immediately felt a hundrred lighter. Yeah, there was no need to panic. Someone was definitely going to swoop in and save you. You were the main character now, you had a titanium grade plot shield! You started wondering if you were the beloved heroine or the misunderstood villainess. God, you hoped for the heroine. They always had the most awesome families. What if you were actually a billionaire heiress just waiting to be rescued by the male lead?
You practically vibrated in place, unable to sit still. You tried to pinpoint which exact novel or manhwa this could be. It didn't look familiar, but you read plenty of stories where the mc spawned in blind! Ugh, it was going to be a bit of a challenge, but you would love to know the future and help the male lead however you could.
Your cheeks flushed hot, and a giggle bubbled out of your throat, echoing weirdly in the basement. Right. The male lead! The perfectly sculpted man of your dreams could bust through that door at any second!
Honestly, you were so over the overused “Duke of the North” trope anyway. Judging by the terrified police officer next to you, you were sure you didn't get into a historical fantasy, but a modern one. You couldn't even be sure if there was magic at all, but hopefully, you would unlock some insanely overpowered skills soon. You would one hit kill the boss, and live happily ever after with your handsome beloved.
Your muffled giggles were swallowed by the ominous thud of boots coming down the wooden stairs. You snapped your mouth shut, fixing your posture as a shadow loomed behind the filthy, blood-stained tarp separating the rooms.
Showtime.
You looked up expectantly, flipping a piece of hair behind your ear and lowering your chin just a fraction. You didn’t quite know how to flirt yet, but you were sure your survival instincts would kick in. The police officer tied up next to you was still screaming his head off, ruining the romantic tension. You mentally rolled your eyes. You will definitely have your handsome kidnapper scold him for ruining the vibe later.
You raised your head, eyelashes primed and ready to flutter at the brooding, misunderstood mafia boss or royalty who was surely about to step through the tarp.
A hand shoved the fabric aside. You blinked.
The man standing in front of you was older than your dad. He was balding, covered in layers of grime, and his eyes were wide, bloodshot, and devoid of sanity. He smelled strongly of rotting meat. You let out a disappointed sigh.
Ugh. Not the male lead. Just an ugly side character.
This was probs a low level lackey and not the main antagonist, because the character design was seriously lacking.
The man pulled a hunting knife from his pocket. He stared blankly between you and the officer. The cop’s screams turned into hysterical, frantic begging.
The old man lunged. He grabbed the officer by his hair, yanking his head back... you heard something pop, and drove the blade into the side of his neck.
You gasped, your breath catching in your throat. Blood erupted from the officer's severed artery.
It hit you right in the face.
It was horrifyingly hot. The thick metallic scent of copper clogged your nose, and a few drops splattered against your lips, tasting like pennies. The officer’s screams vanished, replaced by a wet, bubbling gurgle as he drowned in his own blood. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his heels drumming against the dirt floor before he went limp.
You sat frozen, wide eyed, hot blood dripping from your chin.
Okay, wow. The author of this story is going for an R18 rating, your brain rationalized, trying to process the wet, meaty smell of the corpse beside you. I guess this guy was just a sacrificial side character to raise the stakes. A tragic prologue to give me some trauma! Honestly, smart writing. This will surely give me nightmares for a while, but the ml can cuddle with me and–
Your romantic daydream was interrupted. A filthy, calloused hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so hard your scalp burned.
What? A cold bead of sweat rolled down your temple as the man leaned in, bringing that blood soaked knife right to your throat.
Um, where is my savior? This isn't funny anymore.
You could hear your own pulse pounding in your ears. You needed to stall. You needed to talk to him. But you didn't know fucking spanish! You squeezed your eyes shut, using every ounce of your remaining strength to channel your sister's trashy telenovelas. What was that one line? The dramatic one that always made the camera zoom in on everyone's shocked faces right before the commercial break?
RIGHT!
You snapped your eyes open, meeting his crazed, bloodshot gaze. You tilted your chin up, pushed down your terror, and flashed him the most confident, arrogant smirk you could muster. You had no idea what the words meant, but you prayed it would confuse him as much as this plot was confusing you.
“Estoy embarazada!” (I’m pregnant) you declared proudly.
You were too busy channeling your inner soap opera star to hear the rhythmic thud of boots hitting the floorboards above, but your killer certainly did.
The jagged edge of the knife rested a millimeter from your skin as the man’s head tilted, his focus stolen by the intrusion. He stared at you, seemingly caught between finishing the job and the approaching threat. You stared back, holding that arrogant smirk even as your tied up legs trembled like jelly.
For one agonizingly long, tense second, the basement was dead silent except for his raspy breathing. Then, with a confused, guttural grunt, he released your hair and unceremoniously dropped you to the dirty floor.
Yessssss! As he turned his back, he paused just long enough to pinch out the room's only candle with his bloody fingers. He lumbered out, plunging the basement into pitch blackness. You let out a shaky breath. The terrifying darkness didn't stop you, though. Still bound tightly by your wrists and smeared with a dead cop's blood, you began wiggling your shoulders against the dirt in a pathetic, worm-like victory dance.
Nailed it.
Now you were stuck down here with a literal corpse. You felt a twinge of pity for the guy; it was a tragedy, sure, but in the grand scheme of things, he was needed to kickstart your plotline. Still, you wished you could have done something to save him. You squeezed your eyes shut. What if you had healing powers? Like a holy saintess???? That would actually be super useful right now. You focused all your mental energy and concentrated hard on where his gaping neck wound should be. Just then, the dead policeman’s shoulder radio suddenly crackled to life with a harsh burst of static. A tiny, flickering light on the device began to pulse, casting a light over the body beside you.
You peeked open one eye. As if your brilliant, newly awakened powers could seamlessly reattach an almost severed head. The ragged flaps of torn meat, the glint of spinal bone, and the massive, expanding pool of dark blood were a pretty solid indicator that he was far beyond saving.
Ugh, okay, you reasoned with yourself as the radio light died back down, leaving you in total darkness again, that kind of magic doesn't work on npcs anyway. It will only activate during the climax of the boss fight, when you dramatically kiss the male lead while your tears flow down onto his handsome, battered face. Then he’ll gasp awake and propose to you right then and there.
You started giggling to yourself again. But the amusement was cut short when the speaker’s static was replaced by a man screaming in agony. You jumped, your heart slamming painfully against your ribs. Oh no, did he have a partner? Was he getting captured too? Listening to the frantic shrieking echoing out of the little speaker, it surely didn’t sound like he was being kidnapped. It sounded like he was being butchered.
You sniffled a little, the thick, metallic stench of blood heavy in your nose. Yeah, you definitely got spawned into a very brutal, dark fantasy world. What the hell did you do to deserve the extreme difficulty setting?
Footsteps started coming down the creaky wooden stairs again. You went rigid. Did that bald freak just go upstairs to sharpen his rusty knife?
Well, that would be nice, just so you wouldn't have to suffer.You shook your head several times. Noooo jesus, you didn’t want to die!!!! He can fuck off! Yeah, he can totally fuck off. You will fight back. You willl headbutt him, or... you don’t know, kick him in the balls somehow! Both your hands and legs were still tied tight, but it didn’t matter. You could worm your way over there and headbutt him straight in the nuts if you had to.
You had to think fast. There was a damp stone wall right behind you. If you leaned back against it, it would give you just enough leverage to launch your upper body forward and absolutely crush his peanuts. When he lost his balance, he’d drop the knife, you could swoop it away with your legs, somehow transfer it to your tied hands, and cut yourself free. Yeah. Solid, foolproof plan.
You slumped back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your head loll to the side. Playing fainted. That would definitely get him to lower his guard. The footsteps were closer.
“Hey!” a voice called out.
You paused in your fake death state. Damn. The bald freak was old and ugly, sure, but he had a surprisingly fine voice. Deep, smooth, with a nice edge to it.
You heard rushed footsteps closing the distance. The blinding beam of a flashlight pierced right through your eyelids. You cracked your eyes open but soon regretted it as the harsh light seared your retinas. Your eyes watered, blurring your vision so badly you couldn't see shit. But you could tell he was close enough. It was time to act.
Pulling yourself away from the wall, you threw your entire upper body forward, driving your head ruthlessly into the guy’s nuts.
The man let out a sharp, breathless grunt. He dropped the flashlight and hit the dirt floor on his knees. Since you still couldn’t see past your own tears, you just went feral, kicking your bound legs out frantically and bashing him with both of your feet in the process. The man groaned under his breath as he absorbed the blows. Through the pained wheezing, he managed to choke out a few words.
“No soy... tu enemigo.”
Huh? What. You stopped flailing your legs. You still didn’t speak spanish, but you could piece together no and enemigo. Not an enemy. You debated kicking him one more time just to be sure, but... maybe that wouldn't be your smartest move. He could become your ally, whoever he was! Hopefully not your fated husband, though, because you just violently murdered generations of his bloodline with your forehead.
You blinked rapidly, your vision slowly starting to clear as the tears faded. The radio on the dead cop was still spitting out static and gruesome, agonizing screams, but it didn't matter at all anymore. You tuned it out. All you could hear was the stranger's pained breathing.
And then, in the ambient glow of the dropped flashlight, you saw him.
He was literal perfection. He had a soft jawline and beautiful blue eyes currently pinched in pain. His face was just so good. Even as he was slowly trying to straighten up from his crumpled position, you could see the outline of a gorgeously toned body beneath his tight, dark shirt. Damn. You could lick those muscular arms all the way up to those juicy manboobs.
“Estás bien?” (Are you okay?) he asked. His voice was strained as he clutched his stomach, clearly still fighting through the pain of the nut-shot. You had no idea what he just said, but you realized he was the one with the nice voice. Thank God it wasn’t the baldie.
You stared at him with wide, pure adoration. Yeah. You could have his children right here. Assuming his equipment still worked, of course.
“English??” you asked, your head lolling to the side. The language barrier was going to be a pain, but you would gladly learn every language on earth for your mister right. Hopefully, english was one of his strengths so you could skip the duolingo lessons.
“Yeah. English,” he grunted, one hand still resting protectively near his groin as he motioned for you to turn around. “Hold still. I’m not your enemy.”
You, of course, happily obliged. You felt the quick, sharp slice of a blade against the ropes binding your wrists, and then your legs.
“Jesus... what the hell is going on here?” he muttered, looking around the bloodsoaked basement.
You shook your head, rubbing your sore wrists. “I don’t know–”
The radio on the dead cop’s shoulder erupted again. The man on the other end wasn't screaming anymore, he was shrieking, accompanied by the wet, horrific sounds of tearing meat. The mysterious guy snatched the radio from the corpse.
“Hey! I read you! What’s your situation?”
No one answered, of course. The shrieks gurgled into a wet choke before falling dead silent, leaving only the soft hiss of static. The handsome stranger cursed under his breath, his jaw tightening as he frustratedly tossed the radio back onto the dirt. You managed to get off the floor, dusting the basement grime off your pants. Okay, so this situation wasn’t looking quite as glamorous as you originally imagined, but whatever. The male lead was here. Life was good.
Then, the creaking sound of footsteps started coming down the stairs again.
“There’s a bald dude who did this to the poor man,” you whispered to him.
The stranger immediately whipped around, picking up his flashlight and drawing his handgun in one smooth, practiced motion, taking up a defensive stance. Oh my god, he was sooooo cute when he was being protective! You knew nothing bad would happen here, though. With the ml right in front of you, you wouldn't die. Not that you would’ve anyway.
“I already dealt with him. Stay back,” he ordered you in a low, tight voice.
You happily did so, stepping behind his broad shoulders. You wanted to get out of here. You wanted to see some sunlight, get out of this stinking cellar, and head straight to his mansion or whatever fancy estate he owned. Plus, you were starting to get hungry. Ugh. You were going to become cranky soon, and you didn’t want to take your frustration out on him.
He steadied his weapon, crossing his wrists to support the gun with the flashlight, and started moving forward slowly. He was a bit sluggish, probably because of your brutal nut attack. You felt horrible about it, but you would apologize plenty later over a nice, romantic dinner.
You couldn’t see anything past his back, but you heard someone screeching. It was a horrible, grating noise, it didn't even sound like a human voice. It sounded guttural, and just straight up disgusting.
He fired, but he must have missed the head, or the guy didn't even flinch, because the stranger had to duck to avoid a sweeping grab. With him out of the way, you could get a good look at the threat.
It was the bald guy. But his head was tilted to the side at a sickening 90 degree angle. Huh? But that was impossible. How could a dead guy walk?
He shot him right in the shoulder. Dark blood sprayed the stone wall, but he didn't even stumble. He kept throwing his limbs at both of you, screaming in that animalistic, wet way, lunging forward with blind rage. He dodged another frantic swing, stepped into the man's guard, and drove his combat knife brutally up through the bottom of the guy's jaw and straight into his brain.
The man finally dropped down. But as you peered over your hero's shoulder, you saw the corpse twitch.
Fleshy tendrils started pushing their way out of the dead man's eyeballs, nose, and the hole your mister right had just made in his head. The parasite writhed blindly in the air, covered in blood and mucus, letting out a high pitched screech.
Damn, it was repulsive. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from throwing up.
“What was wrong with that guy?” you muffled through your hand.
He stood over the body, his face pale and disgusted in the beam of the flashlight. “I don't know. Looks like some kind of parasite... they're probably infected.”
You looked down at the twitching dead body and flinched. What? Ew. You hoped it wasn't contagious. Were you stuck in some kind of grimdark, zombie-parasite-apocalypse world? Because this was super not cool.
Desperate, you tried to focus your healing abilities on the guy one more time. You squeezed your eyes shut and clapped your hands together like you were praying.
Nothing happened. The parasite just let out another wet, gurgling screech.
What a bummer. So the healer class just wasn’t your thing.
“Look, I respect religion, but we need to get the hell out of here,” the handsome stranger called out, his voice tight with urgency.
You dropped your praying hands, mentally accepting your non magical status, and hurried after him up the creaky wooden stairs. It was a good thing, too, because someone upstairs was throwing a massive tantrum. You could hear muffled shouting in that angry spanish again, accompanied by the heavy crash of furniture being thrown around.
You emerged into a hallway. The house was shabby, not that you expected a five star hotel, but the wooden floorboards groaned and cracked so harsh under your feet you were afraid to breathe too hard lest you fall right back into the murder basement. The doors were splintered and rotting, the walls stained with years of grime. The whole place looked like absolute shit. At least it matched the basement's aesthetic.
You followed him into an adjacent room, trying to put some distance between yourselves and the angry shouting. Sitting on a rundown wooden cupboard was a bowl of very rotten fruit, swarming with flies. Your hero stepped up to the cupboard, yanked it open, and started rummaging inside. Was he... a bit kleptomaniac? It didn’t really matter to you; these were bad people anyway. But if he was the rich, powerful CEO, why did he need to loot from these clearly impoverished, dirty npcs? You peered around his shoulder and saw him pull out a small, potted green herb. He grabbed it without hesitation, shoved it into his pocket, and motioned for you to keep moving. With great confusion, you just nodded and followed him upstairs.
He ran into the only room on the first floor. After doing a quick, tactical sweep to check if it was safe, he rushed you inside and firmly slid the metal latch locked on the door.
Oh. You were trapped in here with him. Was this the forced proximity trope?! You could’ve just escaped out the front door after he beat up the bad guys, but he wanted to secure the perimeter and make sure you were safe and sound before moving on. What a thoroughly nice, protective man!
You looked around. The room was sparsely lit by a few melting candles, casting a warm glow on a very detailed map pinned to the wall, surrounded by printed photographs. Your hero stepped up to observe it.
“Hey, um… Can I ask your name?” you asked softly, stepping up beside him and peeking at whatever had his attention.
He was reaching toward a photograph of a young, blonde girl. She was on the ground, frightened and tied up, looking exactly how you were a few minutes ago. He stared at it, his jaw tight with worry.
Your stomach did a weird flip. Who could she be? Was she the original heroine of the story? Was this entire plot about his desperate rescue mission to save her, and now that you spawned in, you were just third wheeling their star crossed lovers storyline?! You might actually just be a side character after all. You let out a quiet, disappointed sigh.
“Leon. Leon Kennedy,” he answered simply, his deep voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts. He reached up and tapped a sleek earpiece you hadn't even noticed he was wearing. “Roost, this is Condor One.”
Condor One?? Roost? What? Was he some kind of secret agent? A government spy? An action hero?! This made the whole scenario a million times cooler.
“The Presi–” Leon started, but he quickly cut himself off, shooting a sharp side glance at you. You weren't supposed to hear that classified intel, but it didn't matter because you were knee deep in your own delusions anyway. “Got a lead on Baby Eagle. It’s likely she is in this village.”
He took a step closer, his eyes scanning the map intently. “Need a location on a nearby lake. She may have been taken there.”
You had no idea who he was talking to– maybe his elite underground information dealer or something, you didn't have the vocabulary for this genre. But it was clear the map was marked with a big red X and he needed to get there urgently.
“Hurry up,” Leon ordered the voice in his ear, his tone growing strained. “Something happened to the people here. I have a civilian with me and my escorts are–”
Someone was stomping up the stairs, cutting his sentence short. You had company. And they were right outside the bedroom.
“Leon–”
The blade of a rusted axe smashed through the wood of the door, splintering it inward. You shrieked and jumped back. You felt like you were in The Shining. You despised horror movies. Your sister would be delighted right now– you two were polar opposites, and while she lived for this kind of thrill, you were about two seconds away from literally pissing your pants.
But you couldn't do that. That would be sooooooo humiliating in front of Leon.
“Gotta go. Talk later,” Leon snapped, dropping his hand from his ear.
You started backing toward the only other exit, a small glass window at the far end of the room. It was your only way out unless Leon decided to beat up the mob outside. He was already backing toward the window too, meaning running was the official plan. But you were on the first floor, and when you dared to glance down through the dirty glass, the ground looked terrifyingly far away. Your fingers started trembling. You felt sweaty, terrified, and disgusting.
The bedroom door burst off its hinges. Not one, but three armed, deranged looking villagers forced their way inside, pitchforks and axes raised.
“Window, now!” Leon yelled.
With blinding speed, Leon parried an incoming axe swing with his combat knife and shoved the villager back. He grabbed a wooden chair, smashed it through the window, and shattered the glass into the cold night air.
You stared at the hole. Surely he wasn’t expecting you to jump. It was way too high!!!
“It’s too high–” you stammered, freezing in place.
He didn't even look back at you, his focus was on keeping the bloodthirsty mob at bay. “I'll be right behind you. Just go!”
Just think about the plot shield, girl, you’re invincible!!!
Nah. Nope. Nopety nope nope nooooo~ You were not doing this. You were going to snap your ankles or break your spine. You kept shaking your head, frozen in pure terror, earning a frustrated grunt from the agent.
Leon pushed the enemies back. He grabbed one by the back of the neck and drove his knee brutally into the man's skull with a sickening crack, instantly knocking him out. He whipped his gun up, shot the second one square in the forehead, and kicked the third one back into the hallway.
The fluid, brutal combo bought you a precious few seconds. Leon didn't wait for you this time. He sprinted toward the window, jumped out of it, disappeared for a terrifying second, and then you heard him hitting the dirt. He rolled, springing right back onto his feet in the muddy yard below. He turned around, looking up at you, holding his arms out.
“Jump! I've got you!”
You only hesitated for a fraction of a second. The third villager was already getting back up, letting out a feral screech behind you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you threw yourself out into the freezing night air.
THIS STORY IS FUCKING SHIT!!!!! you screamed internally as gravity ripped you downward.
But then, you slammed into something solid and incredibly warm. The impact knocked the breath out of you, but you weren't on the ground. You opened your eyes. You were secured in Leon’s strong arms in a bridal carry. He didn't even look winded. His sharp blue eyes were glaring fiercely up at the window, staring down the bloodsoaked villager looking right through your soul from the broken glass.
But the horrifying monster up there didn’t matter at all anymore. All you could see was Leon's beautiful, dirty face in the moonlight, and feel how strongly, securely, and protectively he was holding you against his broad chest.
You were wrong… THIS STORY IS FUCKING GOOD!!!!!