Two days ago, you somehow woke up inside the novel you’d been reading online—now in the body of the male lead’s mother. William, your son, was only twelve. In the story, he would one day grow into a villain, twisted by loneliness and his parents’ lack of love. But that future hadn’t come yet.

You were sipping tea in your room when a sharp voice echoed from the hall.

“Master William! How many times must I tell you—no sweets during lessons!”

You paused, setting your cup down. Peeking through the door, you saw William sitting stiffly at his desk, a piece of candy hidden in his hand. The tutor towered over him, scolding harshly. William didn’t speak—he only bowed his head, silent and obedient, as if used to such treatment.

The boy’s shoulders trembled slightly, but he didn’t cry or defend himself. He just sat there, quietly taking the scolding until the tutor finally left the room.

For a long moment, you simply watched him—the lonely child who would one day lose himself to darkness. And for the first time, you understood just how early that loneliness had begun.