Transmigration: Between the Times [Love Between Eclipse And Moon]

This is my new work , not an adoption, please read the story at your own risk.

This story is a complete mystery and fantasy book

To know more about the Book read it

In the 21st century, a lone male omega stumbled upon a dilapidated mansion in an obscure location. This mansion, visible only to him, unveiled a beautiful mystery of the universe. With a bold and daring spirit, he entered without hesitation. Inside, he discovered an old novel and began to read. Unexpectedly, he transmigrated into the very novel he was reading, finding himself in the role of a character destined for an early demise. Refusing to adhere to the predetermined plot, he resolved to alter the fate of his favorite character. Unbeknownst to him, this task would prove far more challenging than anticipated. * I possess everything I desire with my "FAMILY." Why should I squander my life for the foolish MC?* Read the story to know more. This original story is protected by all rights reserved, and unauthorized reproduction is prohibited. Please refrain from expressing negativity towards the novel or its characters. This work is entirely fictional.

This work is entirely mine and has no connection with the real world. Thank you

See you all in the next chapter and wait until then guys

A brilliant light compelled me to narrow my eyes. Once my vision adjusted, I began to take in my surroundings, which were starkly different from the dilapidated mansion in the middle of nowhere I had previously known.

An inexplicable, profound silence had descended, thick and heavy, pressing down on the very air itself. It was the kind of hush that made your own breathing sound like a roaring gale in your ears, a sudden, stark absence of sound that amplified every internal tremor. Yet, paradoxically, the surroundings were not empty; they were completely, utterly filled with a sea of faces, a vast, undulating ocean of humanity. Every single pair of eyes, it seemed, was meticulously and intently fixed, directly in my direction. There was no escaping their collective gaze, no distant point to which I could flee their piercing scrutiny. At that precise moment, a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotions crashed over me, a powerful confluence of nervousness, anxiety, and an almost crippling shyness. It was as if every fiber of my being was instantly and acutely aware of the sheer weight of all those watchful eyes. My palms began to feel clammy, a faint tremor started in my hands, and a peculiar tightness formed in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. The air, already thick with the collective anticipation of the crowd, seemed to grow even denser, making each breath a conscious effort. A blush, I could feel it, crept up my neck and bloomed across my cheeks, a tell-tale sign of my burgeoning discomfort. This was an entirely novel and profoundly unsettling experience for me. Never before, in the entire span of my life, had I been subjected to such intense, attention. I had always been content to blend into the background, to be an observer rather than the observed, to exist comfortably in the periphery. Now, however, the spotlight, an imaginary but intensely real beam, was undeniably and unforgivingly fixed upon me. It was the first time in my life, I being the absolute and unequivocal center of attention. The sheer novelty of it only amplified the disquiet, leaving me feeling exposed, vulnerable, and utterly unsure of how to navigate this unprecedented moment.

Observing the vast surroundings, a colossal gate and tall, ancient-looking wall stood 20 meters away. A sudden realization struck me: the people wore traditional Korean and Chinese attire.

To my left, a flight of steps ascended to an elevated platform where several individuals were seated. They resembled royalty: kings, queens, princes, and princesses.

WHAT IS GOING ON??

Suddenly, a hand on my shoulder startled me, pulling me from my thoughts. It belonged to a girl dressed in simple yet elegant Korean attire, suggesting she might be a maid or servant. Her expression was one of profound worry, and though she attempted to speak, my dazed state prevented me from comprehending her words.

"Who exactly is 'she' referring to as 'young master'?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, laced with a mixture of disbelief and a touch of indignation. "Me? Is she honestly talking about me?" He paused, a flicker of a wry smile playing on his lips, a subtle testament to the absurd situation he found himself in. "I am just a simple individual, minding my own business, hailing directly from the bustling and technologically advanced 21st century. I'm not some pampered aristocrat from a bygone era; I am a self-made billionaire, forged through sheer grit, relentless ambition, and an unwavering belief in my own capabilities. Every penny I possess, every empire I've built, is a direct result of my own tireless efforts and shrewd business acumen." He let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a hint of weariness in his voice. "And as for the 'young' part of her address? Let's be unequivocally clear on that front. I am distinctly not young, at least not in the context she seems to be implying. I have already comfortably crossed the significant milestone of my 25th year, and in my world, that’s hardly the age of a 'young master' needing guidance or protection. I've navigated complex global markets, brokered multi-million dollar deals, and faced down countless challenges that would make most people twice my age falter. My experience far outweighs the simple number on my birth certificate." His gaze swept around his immediate surroundings, a bewildered expression settling upon his features. The architecture was unfamiliar, the air carried an unidentifiable scent, and the very atmosphere felt… off. "And what, pray tell, is with this place?" His voice rose slightly, a tremor of genuine confusion entering his tone. "It’s so utterly peculiar, so profoundly strange. Nothing here aligns with what I know, what I've experienced. It's as if I've been plucked from my own reality and dropped into a fantastical, illogical dream. The lack of familiar technological hum, the unusual attire of the people I've glimpsed, the general antiquated aura it all adds up to an unsettling, disorienting experience. I need answers, and I need them now, before this bizarre situation completely overwhelms my well-honed sense of reality."

Without warning, a colossal, iron-wrought gate, its heavy hinges groaning in protest, dramatically swung inward, revealing a scene that defied modern expectation. Through the newly created chasm poured an impressive multitude of soldiers, their figures uniformly clad in stark, intimidating black attire. Each man was armed, their weapons gleaming dully in the light, and their disciplined advance mimicked the precise, rhythmic movement of a well-rehearsed parade. It wasn't merely a handful; it was a seemingly endless stream, their synchronized footsteps creating a low, resonant thud that vibrated through the ground. Concurrently, flanking this impressive infantry formation, noble steeds with powerful, muscled bodies entered the scene. Their riders, also cloaked in the somber black uniform, sat tall and rigid in their saddles, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets. The horses themselves moved with an elegant, almost regal gait, their hooves striking the earth with a powerful cadence that echoed the soldiers' march. This entire spectacle, unfolding with such grandeur and meticulous detail directly before my astonished eyes, felt less like a real-time event and more like a meticulously choreographed, cinematic production. It was as if I had been transported back in time, witnessing a pivotal moment from a meticulously crafted historical drama, where every element, from the attire to the organized movement, screamed of a bygone era.

The disciplined ranks of soldiers, previously standing at rigid attention, subtly shifted and parted, their movements precise and almost imperceptible, creating a wide, unobstructed path. Through this newly formed aisle, a man of remarkable presence, radiating an almost palpable and astonishing aura of power and authority, made his grand entrance. He arrived not on foot, but astride a magnificent black horse, its coat gleaming like polished obsidian under the ambient light. The very air seemed to crackle with anticipation as he rode through the imposing gates, his figure cutting a striking silhouette against the backdrop. The black horse itself was a creature of extraordinary beauty and immense stature, a living embodiment of equine perfection. Its muscular form rippled with contained power, each movement a testament to its supreme breeding and strength. Its eyes, deep and intelligent, seemed to hold a flicker of wild spirit, yet it moved with an almost unnatural grace and obedience, perfectly attuned to its rider's every command.

I was utterly and completely dazed, struck by an almost overwhelming sense of awe and wonder. The scene unfolding before my very eyes was not merely captivating; it was mesmerizing in a way that transcended the ordinary. It felt as though I had been transported, not just in space, but in time, to a pivotal moment. The vividness of the tableau, the intricate details, and the palpable atmosphere combined to create an immersive experience, akin to watching a live historical drama. This wasn't some distant, dusty account from a book, nor a faded image on a screen; this was happening, right here, right now, playing out with an immediacy that was breathtaking.

Did I just land in some historical drama?

Did I get drugged and kidnapped on a drama set? I recognize my attractiveness, but this situation is outrageous. Who would abduct someone while they were engrossed in a book? I was so deeply immersed in my reading that I didn't even notice the abduction. What an irony!

The scene unfolding before me is truly marvelous, reminiscent of a historical drama with significant investment. However, I am perplexed by the absence of cameras and a production crew. Are they concealed to capture a perfect shot? I find this situation unacceptable; I do not consent to participate in this "movie," nor am I aware of any remuneration for my involvement. Am I being coerced into performing without compensation?

Suddenly one of the soldiers in the group made an announcement by shouting aloud.

"CLEAR THE WAY" , "PAY YOUR RESPECT" "THE GRAND MARSHAL OF The NATION KIM TAEHYUNG ARRIVES"

Kim Taehyung..... What the hell is happening here, kim Taehyung wasn't the character i read before coming here. Oh My God , don't tell me what I am thinking is correct, no way in the universe.

Am i transmigrated to the novel?

The imposing figure, who had been astride a magnificent steed, dismounted with a deliberate grace that belied the rugged surroundings. His boots, heavy with what appeared to be travel and experience, met the earth with a soft thud, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the very air around me. With a slow, measured cadence, he began to advance, his gaze fixed in my direction. Each step he took felt purposeful, imbued with an unspoken authority. As he drew closer, an undeniable and potent aura emanated from him, a palpable sense of presence that was both compelling and slightly unnerving. It wasn't merely a feeling of respect he inspired; it was something far more primal, a quiet power that seemed to ripple outwards, commanding attention without uttering a single word. A sudden, curious sensation began to prickle along my spine, an involuntary shiver that wasn't born of cold but of something far deeper. It started subtly, a faint tremor, then intensified, spreading like a network of fine electrical currents throughout my entire nervous system. It was as if every nerve ending had suddenly become hyper-aware, responsive to the invisible energy he projected. Even from the considerable distance that still separated us, I could feel the unwavering intensity of his gaze. His eyes, dark and piercing, were locked onto mine with an unyielding focus, a singular attention that made me feel as if I were the only person in his entire field of vision, the sole subject of his profound observation.

He was clad in a rather distinctive ensemble, a striking mélange of black and red hues that immediately set him apart. Unlike the uniformed ranks of soldiers around him, his attire was not a rigid, battle-ready uniform designed for the field, but rather the flowing, meticulously crafted garments typically associated with nobility. This particular choice of raiment suggested a status far removed from the common soldiery, hinting at a position of authority or prestige that precluded the need for standard military garb. As he moved, a dark, cloth-like sheet, predominantly black in color and imbued with a subtle richness, billowed and swirled around him, mirroring the power and purpose in his stride. Each step he took was deliberate, imbued with a silent strength that resonated through the very air. The fabric, perhaps a cloak or an elongated outer garment, undulated gracefully with the rhythm of his powerful walk, creating an almost theatrical sense of presence.

As he started coming closer, his presence became undeniably palpable, and with each measured stride, the details of his majestic appearance crystallized before my eyes. It wasn't just a matter of proximity; it was as if a veil was slowly lifting, revealing the intricate artistry of his form. His eyes, in particular, were a focal point of intense scrutiny. They weren't merely dark; they possessed an unparalleled luminosity, a piercing clarity that immediately brought to mind the keen, predatory gaze of an eagle. This wasn't a casual observation; it was an innate, almost instinctive assessment of their sharpness, a quality that suggested both profound intelligence and an unwavering intensity. One could easily imagine those eyes missing nothing, observing every nuance, every subtle shift in the environment, making them seem like windows to a formidable, discerning soul.

My gaze, which had been momentarily captivated by the sheer magnificence of the man before me, faltered. It was an involuntary retreat, a sudden shying away from the intensity of his presence. I found myself utterly incapable of sustaining eye contact with such a striking individual, his aura a potent blend of authority and undeniable charm that left me feeling strangely overwhelmed. My eyes, almost as if operating independently of my will, swiftly averted from his captivating gaze, seeking refuge in the more familiar and less intimidating landscape of my own person. They drifted downwards, eventually settling on the expanse of my lap, a safer, more neutral territory. It was At this moment, with my attention intentionally redirected, that I truly began to notice my attire, rather than merely wear it. A sudden, almost instinctual turn of my head, perhaps to relieve a slight stiffness in my neck or merely to complete the act of averting my gaze, caused a peculiar awareness to blossom. I became acutely conscious of a substantial, yet not uncomfortable, weight resting atop my head. It felt surprisingly significant, a distinct presence that seemed to crown me, much like a ceremonial diadem. This weight was not oppressive, but rather felt carefully balanced and meticulously arranged, hinting at an intricate structure beneath. The sensation was regal, almost majestic, evoking images of ancient royalty adorned for a grand occasion. Following this realization about my headwear, my awareness then cascaded downwards to my hands. As I held them, perhaps unconsciously smoothing the fabric over my lap or simply resting them, I was struck by their unexpected texture. They felt incredibly soft, almost unbelievably so, as if they had been meticulously cared for and shielded from any rough encounter. The sensation was akin to the delicate touch of freshly spun cotton, a luxurious tenderness that seemed almost incongruous with what I expected of my own skin. It was a softness so profound that it brought to mind the utterly pristine and unblemished skin of a newborn baby, a symbol of purity and innocence. This unexpected gentleness in my own hands was a revelation, prompting a subtle sense of wonder. And then, my gaze finally settled upon the entirety of my clothes, taking in the intricate details and flowing lines. What I saw was undeniably traditional Korean attire. The fabrics were luxurious, the colors likely vibrant and harmonious, the embroidery though I couldn't see every stitch undoubtedly elaborate and symbolic. This was not everyday wear; it was clearly designed for an occasion of immense importance. The style, the cut, the very essence of the garment, all spoke of a specific, deeply meaningful event. Indeed, it was the kind of attire that is customarily donned for a traditional Korean marriage ceremony, a day of profound commitment and joyous celebration. The realization brought with it a cascade of implications, a sudden understanding of the context in which I found myself, and the momentous nature of the present moment. The entire ensemble, from the crowning weight on my head to the delicate feel of my hands and the resplendent clothing on my body, coalesced into a powerful, undeniable statement about my current reality.

My clothes which are matching the Marshal who entered now.

The moment stretched, thick with an unspoken tension that settled heavily in the air. It was then that the man, known to me as Kim Taehyung, approached my vicinity. His footsteps, though not overtly loud, resonated with a certain deliberate quality as he navigated the space. My eyes, perhaps subconsciously, tracked his movement as he steadily made his way towards the very spot where I was seated, seemingly entrenched in my own thoughts or observations. With a measured grace, he positioned himself directly opposite me, the low hum of conversation from elsewhere in the room fading into a distant murmur as his presence became the dominant force in my immediate surroundings. The small table, or perhaps the distance between our chairs, now served as a physical boundary, yet it did little to diminish the intensity of the atmosphere he had inadvertently created. What truly arrested my attention, however, was the profound and unwavering nature of his gaze. His eyes, dark and piercing, were not simply glancing in my direction; they were, without a doubt, intently fixed upon me. There was an undeniable magnetism to them, a deliberate focus that made it clear I was the sole object of his immediate scrutiny. It wasn't a fleeting glance or a casual acknowledgment; it was a sustained and penetrating stare that seemed to delve deeper than the superficial. Yet, despite this undeniable focus, there was an unsettling undercurrent to his expression. The fixed quality of his gaze, rather than conveying curiosity or warmth, was imbued with an unmistakable sense of annoyance. A palpable irritation seemed to emanate from him, subtly creasing the corners of his eyes and tightening the line of his jaw. It was a silent, yet powerful, declaration of his displeasure, communicated not through words, but through the sheer intensity and characteristic nuance of his stare. This wasn't merely a fleeting bad mood; it was a deeper, more ingrained feeling, now directly aimed in my direction, leaving me to ponder the unspoken reasons behind such a potent display of vexation.

Again a sudden announcement passed by the guard standing a few meters away from the place where we were both seated along with two maids behind me.

"THE AUSPICIOUS TIME HAS ARRIVED, THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY CAN BEGIN"

What nonsense, no this is not happening, what in the world??

" THE BRIDE AND GROOM SHALL BOW TO EACHOTHER"

Suddenly, the maids seized my shoulders, compelling me to bow three times, while the man seated opposite me performed a single bow.

Another announcement crippled through the air

"THE BRIDE AND GROOM SHALL DRINK THE WINE"

A small, ceremonial cup, filled with wine, was presented to me by the maids. Once again, they compelled me to take a mere sip rather than allowing me to consume the entire contents. This was profoundly frustrating; I felt manipulated, akin to a doll, yet I was powerless to object, as I comprehended nothing of the events unfolding before me.

My head suddenly felt incredibly dizzy, as if a multitude of memories, none of which were my own, were crashing within my mind. I found myself unable to tolerate the profound heaviness in my head, compounded by the significant weight cradled upon it.

Unable to tolerate anymore, i fainted

Before fully losing consciousness, I felt a strong arm, exuding calm pheromones, reaching out and catching me as I was about to collapse. At that instant, I completely lost all my senses and fainted.