Kyle felt that something was off.

Waking from a dazed and muddled state, his head throbbed with pain, as if needles were piercing his brain, making it impossible to think straight. He didn't know what had happened or where he was. The groggy feeling was incredibly uncomfortable.

However, even in his hazy state, one thing was clear - this was not his familiar, cozy bed.

What was going on?

The surrounding environment felt oppressive, the space even more cramped than his rented studio apartment. The dim light flickered, teasing his heavy eyelids. Not far behind him, the muffled sound of dripping water echoed, making his chest feel tight…

Along with hushed voices.

"He really seems to be dead. Annie, you went too far!"

A female voice, laced with accusation.

"I didn't do it on purpose. How was I supposed to know he was so fragile? Besides, I barely did anything."

The woman called Annie replied, sounding flustered.

"Enough, we need to figure out how to explain this to Michelle."

"Michelle… No! What are we going to do? She's going to kill us!"

"Don't drag me into this. It's all your fault. You're the one who did him in. It has nothing to do with me…"

The conversation continued, grating on Kyle's aching head. But after a moment, he managed to push past the pain, regaining his basic ability to observe and assess his situation.

He forced his eyes open.

He found himself in a narrow room, reminiscent of a basement from a horror flick. Pitch black surrounded him, the only light coming from torches mounted on the walls. Slimy moss clung to the corners and ceiling, the heavy moisture in the air making his skin crawl.

Kyle tried to move.

Immediately, he discovered that he was tied to a chair, his hands bound tightly behind his back with rough rope that chafed painfully against his skin.

Not only that, his body felt uncharacteristically weak.

Weak to a concerning degree.

"What do we do… Michelle… Oh god, she's here!"

The steady clack of high heels interrupted their panicked chatter and Kyle's feeble attempt to struggle free.

In the dim firelight, a figure gradually took shape.

It was a woman draped in a voluminous robe, a hood concealing her face entirely. The deep green fabric shrouded her, not a single identifying feature visible. She could have been a mannequin underneath for all he could tell.

Kyle only assumed she was a woman based on the click of heels and the name "Michelle".

Still dazed, his instincts screamed at him to play dead.

So before anyone noticed he was awake, he let his body go slack, slumping in the chair, unmoving.

Eyes shut tight, ears straining, he focused on what would unfold next.

"Michelle, you're here…"

Annie's voice trembled.

"Wake him." A muffled, raspy female voice emanated from within the robe.

"Michelle, I…"

Annie hesitated, seemingly choosing her words carefully, but was cut off.

"It's all Annie's fault!" The other woman interjected shrilly, making Kyle's head throb. "Michelle, Annie's the one who did this. She killed him. I had nothing to do with it!"

An uncomfortable silence.

"Michelle, I…" Annie tried to defend herself.

"He's not dead." But Michelle interrupted her again.

Kyle's breath hitched.

"What?"

"He's not dead." Michelle sounded impatient. "Wake him up."

"Ah, y-yes…"

Kyle sat there, eyes closed, suddenly feeling a chill wash over him. In an instant, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin, cold and clammy. He fought the urge to retch.

Annie had dumped a bucket of frigid water on him.

Knowing he couldn't maintain the charade, he opened his eyes.

"He's alive!"

One of the women exclaimed. Kyle could finally take in his surroundings.

Three figures total in the room. The two women and Michelle were dressed identically - deep green robes with hoods obscuring their faces. Like something out of a cult horror movie.

The trio encircled him, as if performing some twisted ritual.

A shiver ran down Kyle's spine.

"You two are dismissed." Michelle spoke.

The two women nodded and left, likely to go rip into each other over the earlier argument.

Kyle felt Michelle's gaze land on him once more, predatory, like a viper eyeing its next meal. He squirmed uncomfortably. But trapped in his current predicament, he could only avert his eyes and feign ignorance.

Michelle remained silent. A standoff.

The seconds dragged into eternity.

Finally, she spoke.

"How do you open the treasury?"

Kyle met her gaze. "I don't know."

"Sir Lither." Michelle didn't sound surprised in the least. "Resistance is futile. You can return to the capital and resume your life of noble privilege, or you can rot down here as rat fodder. The choice is yours. I hope you make the right one."

"I'm not this 'Sir Lither'. You've got the wrong guy."

"Sir Lither, my patience wears thin." Michelle's words were measured but laced with menace. "Or perhaps, you were unsatisfied with Annie's earlier treatment and would like me to call her back?"

"…"

Kyle wanted to laugh and cry all at once. Lady, I really don't know anything!

Stolen story; please report.

But by now, the pieces were starting to come together.

Before this, late at night, he'd been hunched over his desk, scrambling to prepare the speech his boss needed for the next day.

At that point, he'd already been burning the candle at both ends for two weeks straight. Physically and mentally drained, he'd passed out from exhaustion right there at his computer. And in his dream, he saw his pudgy, middle-aged boss, tighty-whities on his head, jabbing a finger at him and bellowing, "By the power of my unmentionables, I command you to transform!"

His head buzzed.

Then, he woke up here in this dank basement.

He couldn't rule out the possibility that these women were totally unhinged and had mistaken him for this "Sir Lither" fellow. Or maybe that nightmare of a dream had frazzled his brain so badly he was now hallucinating all of this.

Kyle wasn't an idiot. He was your average Joe, living a mundane life but harboring extraordinary dreams - he'd devoured his fair share of web novels. So the instant something felt off, he connected the dots.

He'd transmigrated.

For some unfathomable reason, he'd been whisked away into the body of a "Sir Lither," supplanting the original owner. As fate would have it, this Lither fellow had landed himself in quite the predicament - nabbed by a group of unhinged women and subjected to some decidedly un-sexy torture.

Now it was Kyle's turn in the hot seat.

He had to be the unluckiest transmigrator ever.

"For the Lithers, that treasury is a mere drop in the bucket. You have countless such riches. Why throw your life away for something so trivial?"

Perhaps mistaking Kyle's sigh for wavering resolve, Michelle shifted to a gentler approach.

Kyle locked eyes with the shadowy figure beneath the hood, enunciating each word:

"I. Don't. Know!"

He was sure his expression radiated innocence.

But Michelle wasn't buying it.

"How disappointing, Sir Lither. You've made a grave error in judgment." Michelle's voice remained frigid, now laced with deadly intent. "Perhaps you're starting to miss Annie's tender mercies."

A chill shot down Kyle's spine.

He shuddered to imagine what these psychos had done to the body's original owner. On second thought, he'd rather not know. Why? Because they'd tortured the poor sap to death!

The proof was in the pudding. He'd be a fool to doubt their capacity for cruelty.

As Michelle turned to leave, Kyle blurted out:

"I… I can't tell you right now."

Kyle was backed into a corner. He'd been dealt a shitty hand, but folding wasn't an option.

Transmigrated or not, he wasn't ready to kick the bucket.

"Why?"

Michelle didn't bother to face him, merely pausing mid-stride, her back to him as she questioned coldly.

"If you never intended to keep your word, it doesn't matter whether I spill the beans or not. You still won't cut me loose." Kyle ransacked his mental library of movie and novel plotlines, struggling to maintain a façade of calm. "I can tell you how to crack open that vault, but you have to guarantee my safety."

A soft chuckle drifted from beneath the hood.

The tension hanging in the air dissipated slightly. Kyle exhaled in relief.

"Aren't you a clever one." Michelle turned to regard him. "I never planned on letting you walk away. To avoid the wrath of your oh-so-powerful family, I'll snuff you out the second I have what I want. Grind your bones to make my bread. Not a trace will be left."

Kyle longed to snatch back his words and ram them down his own throat.

"…Then my lips are sealed."

"Ah, but if you clam up, we'll make you sing like a canary." Michelle's tone oozed sadistic glee. "The easy way or the hard way, your choice. A quick and painless death is far more merciful."

"…"

Lady Luck had a sick sense of humor.

At that moment, Kyle yearned to yank Sir Lither's soul back into this meat suit and throttle him until he agreed to take his lumps. Let Kyle peace out of this bizarro world.

Damn it all, he was just an NPC in this twisted script!

"Fool."

Seeing he had no intention of talking, Michelle shook her head and made to retrieve her lackeys.

Desperation ignited a spark in Kyle's mind.

"Wait!"

Michelle paid him no heed, her stride unbroken.

Out of options, Kyle bellowed with all his might:

"The Lither family vault can only be unlocked by Lither blood. Put me in the ground, and you'll never lay a finger on that booty!"

That got her attention. She stalked back to him, heels punctuating each step like a judge's gavel.

The breath Kyle had been holding whooshed out.

A blood-bound magical safe - the most tired trope in the book. But now, it was his only lifeline.

After a beat of silence, Michelle spoke:

"You are not a pureblood Lither."

Come again?!

Kyle's heart seized, his bound hands fisting behind him.

"To the Lithers, you're nothing but a distant relation." Michelle's voice dripped disdain. "Your aunt married into the fold. You simply rode her coattails. Not a single drop of Lither blood in your veins. This harebrained notion that the vault requires Lither DNA - even you couldn't open it."

"…"

So this "Sir Lither" was a nobody? A hanger-on?

The pounding in Kyle's skull intensified.

He teetered on the edge of despair. Talk about a self-own. He'd royally screwed the pooch.

Any hope of escape had just been torpedoed. By his own damn mouth.

What now?

His isekai adventure had barely started. Were the credits already rolling?

Michelle scoffed, twisting the knife. "Did you honestly believe I wouldn't do my homework before snatching you?"

"Your attempts to trip me up are futile!" Kyle's demeanor shifted in an instant - commanding, imperious. "I am a Lither, through and through. My blood is as blue as it gets. Spinning such tall tales to test my mettle - what are you playing at?"

"You-"

Kyle steamrolled onward. "If you're worried I'm trying to buy time, it only betrays your own fears. Kidnapping a noble - you must be quaking in your stilettos. The cavalry will be crashing through those doors any second. The longer this farce continues, the greater the chance you'll wind up as worm food."

Michelle clammed up, as if her robe concealed an actual mannequin.

Kyle forced a mocking little laugh.

Jackpot.

If he were a mere distant cousin, how could he possibly know about the family's most closely guarded secret? If his connection to the Lithers was so flimsy, Michelle would have no motive to spirit him away.

The pieces fell into place. Michelle had been testing the waters.

She must have sensed something off about her captive. Cooked up that "branch family" bullshit to see if he'd bite. If he had, it would've been game over. She'd have known he was an imposter. Useless as a bargaining chip.

Thank the gaming gods Kyle had kept his wits about him. Michelle's story had more holes than Swiss cheese.

This body was one-hundred percent primo Lither stock!

Giving as good as he got, Kyle managed to rattle Little Miss Mysterio.

"Michelle, honey, if you really want a peek inside that vault, I suggest you get a move on." Kyle ruthlessly pressed his advantage. "The Lithers aren't known for their gentle nature or forgiving spirit."

The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.

"…You win this round."

Kyle quirked a brow, his smirk positively wolfish.

Michelle sounded as if she were chewing glass. "I'll take you to the vault. You open it. We'll hang back, give you space to work your magic. The instant that sucker pops open, we'll be too busy shoveling gold to worry about you. Plenty of time for you to make a break for it."

At that, Kyle finally let a real grin shine through.

"You got yourself a deal!"

The anvil on his chest disappeared. A tiny glimmer of hope sparked to life.

In his moment of relief, he couldn't help but reflect on the irony. Some transmigration story this was shaping up to be.

Other protagonists got handy-dandy cheat powers to keep their heads attached. Kyle? He had to rely on his silver tongue.

But he couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not by a long shot.

The lie had taken on a life of its own. He had to keep the illusion going, keep stringing Michelle along until the vault was in sight. And he needed to figure out how the hell he was going to MacGyver his way out of this mess. If his cover got blown, if these nutjobs cottoned on to the fact that he didn't have the magic touch…

Game over. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

This high-stakes LARP had only just begun.

Kyle dragged his attention back to Michelle.

She was not a happy camper. If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under. She spun on her heel hard enough to leave divots in the floor. Stomping to the mouth of the dreary hallway, she snapped for her minions.

"Sally! Annie! Pack it up, we're rolling out."

Probably wanted to get while the getting was good. Kick rocks before the real Sir Lither's cavalry arrived.

But the dank corridor greeted her with nothing but stony silence.

Huh.

A fly on the wall would've cackled at the sight of Little Miss Badass looking suddenly wrong-footed.

"Sally? Annie? You copy?"

A tinge of worry bled through Michelle's usually unflappable veneer.

Finally, a disembodied voice floated back.

"Michelle? Uh, we've got a problem."

Michelle's shoulders slumped infinitesimally with relief. Guess she wasn't eager to be left holding this particular bag.

A living shadow scurried out of the darkness. One of the double-trouble twins.

"The Lithers are knocking on the door. The jig is up. We gotta bounce!"

Kyle's feelings flip-flopped at the speed of light. Giddy exultation that the cavalry had arrived. A bolt of "oh shit" as he realized he had no clue how to handle the extended family popping in unannounced.

Michelle would never risk letting Kyle cruise off into the sunset with his loving family. Dead men tell no tales, and all that jazz.

Cue the migraine.

Michelle's poker face was back in place. Cool as the center seed in a cucumber, she asked, "Annie, where's Sally?"

"I… I dunno…"

"Annie. Sally's location, if you please."

Annie's voice quavered like an off-key violin.

"Sally… she's not here. I mean, I'm not totally sure. She said something about checking the perimeter, scoping out an escape route, but then she just… vanished. I think… I think she might've seen the Lithers closing in, panicked, and rabbited. Or… or the Lithers scooped her up."

Silence crashed down like a guillotine blade, sharp and final.

Annie fidgeted beneath her baggy robe, the billowing fabric doing zilch to hide her nerves.

"Michelle, we need to jet. If we wait any longer, they'll catch us red-handed!"

But Michelle seemed to have slipped into a mini-coma. Or maybe she'd been replaced by one of those posable artist's dolls.

The quiet stretched like taffy, dense and cloying. Annie kept throwing out increasingly shrill hints, but her scene partner was giving her nothing to work with. You could practically hear the crickets.

Kyle took it upon himself to shatter the unbearable tension.

His voice came out syrupy slow, dripping with faux-shock.

"Well, would you look at that. Annie got Sally killed."