I wake up in complete darkness.
Not the "my eyes are closed" kind of darkness. The "I don't think I have eyes anymore" kind.
*Okay. Don't panic. Think.*
Last thing I remember: gaming marathon, energy drinks, crushing that raid boss at 3 AM, chest pains, and then—
Oh.
*Oh no.*
Did I... did I actually die? Heart attack from too much gaming and caffeine? What a pathetic way to go. My mom's going to be so disappointed.
Well, she would be. If I could tell her. Which I can't. Because I'm dead.
Wait.
If I'm dead, why am I still thinking?
Is this the afterlife? It's a lot less... everything than I expected. No white light. No pearly gates. No hot demon girls trying to recruit me for team evil. Just darkness and the vague sense that something is very, very wrong.
*Something's wrong with my body.*
I can't feel my arms. No legs. No torso. I try to move and... nothing. Not paralyzed-nothing. More like the-limbs-don't-exist-anymore nothing.
I try to scream.
No mouth. No lungs. No sound.
*Okay NOW you can panic.*
I thrash mentally, or at least I try to. Whatever I am, I'm completely immobile. Trapped. I'm like a consciousness floating in a void, except I'm pretty sure I'm not floating because I can feel... pressure? Weight? Something solid beneath me?
Then I notice it.
The darkness isn't complete. There's a faint awareness of... space? Like echolocation but without the echoes. I can somehow sense the area around me. It's not sight, but it's something.
I'm in a room. Stone walls. Cold. Damp. About fifteen feet across.
And I'm in the center.
On the floor.
*What the hell am I?*
That's when the blue screen appears.
Not in front of my eyes—I don't have eyes. It just... manifests. Directly in my consciousness. Like someone projected text onto the inside of my skull.
---
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
[Welcome, Reincarnated Soul]
[Species: Mimic (Lesser)]
[Level: 1]
[Class: Dungeon Monster]
---
I stare at the floating text.
*Mimic.*
The word echoes in my mind.
Mimic. As in... the treasure chest monster? The classic D&D trap? The thing that eats dumb adventurers who get too greedy?
*No. No no no no no.*
I focus on that strange spatial awareness again, really concentrating this time. The sense of my own... body? Form? It's there, just outside my usual perception. I push my consciousness toward it and—
I'm wooden.
Four walls. A lid. Iron hinges. A latch on the front.
Inside—inside where my lungs and heart and brain should be—there's just a dark, empty space lined with something that feels disturbingly organic.
*I'm a gods-damned treasure chest.*
This is the worst reincarnation story ever.
I mean, I've read enough isekai manga to know how this usually goes. Truck-kun hits you, you wake up in a fantasy world, goddess gives you cheat powers, you get a harem of monster girls, boom, easy life.
But no. I get "You're furniture now. Good luck."
Another blue screen materializes.
---
[STATUS]
Name: [None]
Species: Mimic (Lesser)
Level: 1
XP: 0/15
HP: 20/20
MP: 10/10
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
STR: 3 | DEF: 7 | AGI: 2
INT: 12 | WIS: 8 | LUK: 5
Skills:
- Ambush Lv.1 (Deal 150% damage on first attack)
- Wooden Shell (Base DEF +5)
Traits:
- Immobile
- Dungeon Spawn
- Predator Instinct
---
*Immobile.*
Great. I'm not just a box. I'm a STATIONARY box.
I try to force my lid to open. Straining with everything I have. Nothing happens except a slight creak. It's like trying to flex a muscle I've never used before. Technically possible, but I have no idea how.
*Think. You've played enough games. There's got to be a tutorial or—*
---
[TUTORIAL: Basic Functions]
As a Mimic, your survival depends on deception and ambush tactics. You are currently Level 1 and possess minimal capabilities.
Your primary function is to lure prey and consume them to gain experience and evolve.
Current Abilities:
- Mimicry: Appear as standard treasure chest
- Ambush: 150% damage on surprise attack
- Consumption: Digest organic matter for XP
Current Location: The Hollow Depths, Floor 1
Warning: Adventurer activity detected. First encounter estimated in 2-4 hours.
---
*Wait, prey? You mean people?*
The screen doesn't respond. Of course it doesn't. It's just data. Not some chatty AI companion.
I'm a monster now. Monsters eat people. That's... that's what I do now?
*No. No way. I'm not killing anyone. I'll just... I don't know, starve to death? Do mimics starve? Can I even die again if I'm already dead?*
Time passes.
I have no idea how much. Without a body, without movement, without anything to do but think, seconds feel like minutes feel like hours. It's sensory deprivation except I can still think, which somehow makes it worse.
I try to distract myself. Count to a thousand. Try to remember song lyrics. Replay video game boss fights in my head. Anything to avoid thinking about what the System said.
*Consume organic matter.*
*Prey.*
*People.*
Then I feel it.
That Predator Instinct trait activates without my permission, and suddenly I'm AWARE. Something living is approaching. Moving through the dungeon. Getting closer.
*No. Please no. I'm not ready for this.*
But my body—my chest-body—responds anyway. Something primal and hungry stirs in whatever passes for my gut now. The organic lining inside me rumbles. My lid trembles slightly.
I can't stop it.
Footsteps echo down the corridor outside my room.
Getting louder.
Getting closer.
I hear breathing. Nervous, excited breathing. Young. Male. Amateur.
*It's just some kid. Some rookie adventurer looking for easy loot on Floor 1.*
The footsteps pause at my doorway.
"Oh man, a treasure chest!" The voice cracks with puberty. He can't be more than sixteen. "First room and I already found loot! The guys are gonna be so jealous!"
*Kid, no. Walk away. Please just walk away.*
He enters the room. I can sense him now through that spatial awareness—thin, gangly, wearing mismatched leather armor that's probably hand-me-downs. A rusty sword on his hip. Wide, excited eyes staring right at me.
*I'm going to let him take whatever he thinks is inside. I won't attack. I'll just... be a normal chest. He'll be disappointed there's nothing inside and he'll leave and everything will be fine.*
The kid approaches cautiously. Smart kid. At least he's being careful.
"Okay, check for traps first, just like the guild taught me," he mutters to himself.
He crouches down, examining my exterior. His fingers trace my wooden panels. It feels weird—like someone touching skin I didn't know I had. Not painful, just... invasive.
"Looks clean. No trip wires, no weird runes. Just a normal chest."
*Yes! Normal chest! Take the hint!*
He reaches for my latch.
His fingers wrap around the metal clasp.
And that's when it happens.
---
[PREDATOR INSTINCT ACTIVATED]
[PREY DETECTED: Human Male, Level 2]
[HUNGER THRESHOLD EXCEEDED]
---
*No. NO. I'M NOT—*
But I'm not in control anymore.
My lid SNAPS open.
The kid's eyes go wide. "What the—"
I see inside myself for the first time. Rows of teeth. Not human teeth—jagged, wooden splinters shaped into fangs. A writhing, fleshy tongue that's way too long. Darkness that seems to pull inward like a vortex.
The kid tries to jerk back, but I'm faster.
My tongue lashes out—wraps around his wrist and YANKS. He screams. Falls forward. His upper body crashes into my interior.
The teeth close.
*STOP STOP STOP THIS ISN'T ME I'M NOT A KILLER I'M—*
The sound of breaking bone echoes in the stone room.
The kid's screaming turns to gurgling.
And then... silence.
---
[PREY CONSUMED]
[+15 XP]
[LEVEL UP! 1 → 2]
[+5 HP, +2 MP]
---
My lid hangs open. The kid's legs are still sticking out, twitching. Then, horrifyingly, they start to... dissolve. Pulled inward by some digestive process I don't want to understand.
Within seconds, there's nothing left.
Just me. A wooden chest. Sitting in an empty room.
And the faint taste of copper and terror in whatever serves as my mouth.
*Oh god.*
*Oh god, what have I done?*
I try to reject it. Try to make myself throw up, spit it out, anything. But my body won't listen. It's already processing. Already absorbing.
Already satisfied.
And the worst part?
The absolute worst part?
A small, dark corner of my mind is pleased. Felt the satisfaction of a successful hunt. Enjoyed the surge of XP, the level up, the growth.
That part of me wants more.
*No. No, that's not me. That's the monster. The mimic. I'm still Marcus. I'm still human inside.*
But am I?
Humans don't have predator instincts that override their will. Humans don't digest people in seconds. Humans don't feel satisfaction after killing a child.
*I didn't want this.*
The thought is weak. Pathetic. Because it doesn't matter what I wanted. I did it. My body, my choice, my responsibility.
The blue screens appear again.
---
[STATUS UPDATE]
Level: 2
XP: 15/40
HP: 25/25
MP: 12/12
STR: 3 | DEF: 7 | AGI: 2
INT: 12 | WIS: 8 | LUK: 5
Skills:
- Ambush Lv.1
- Wooden Shell
Traits:
- Immobile
- Dungeon Spawn
- Predator Instinct
- Reincarnated Soul (New)
Location: Floor 1, Room 7
Kills: 1
---
*One kill.*
Just one. And I'm already keeping count.
I sit in the darkness with my thoughts.
The room is quiet now. Peaceful, almost. Like nothing happened. No blood on the floor. No body. No evidence except the faint scorch mark on the wall from an old battle and a wooden chest that's slightly shinier than before.
And somewhere deep inside me, in that organic lining I hate thinking about, nutrients are being processed. Absorbed. Transformed into strength.
Into levels.
Into power.
*What am I becoming?*
The question hangs in the silence. The System doesn't answer. It never does. It just displays data, cold and clinical, while I sit here trying to reconcile the fact that I just committed murder.
No. Not murder.
Monsters don't murder. They hunt. They feed. They survive.
And I'm a monster now.
*But I don't have to be, right? I can resist. I can control this. Next time someone comes in, I'll just... I'll stay closed. I won't attack. I'll prove I'm still human inside.*
Even as I think it, I know it's a lie.
Because I can already feel it. That hunger. That drive. It's not gone. It's just... waiting.
Waiting for the next adventurer to walk through that door.
Waiting for the next meal.
Waiting for me to stop pretending I have a choice.
---
More footsteps echo in the distance.
Multiple pairs this time.
My Predator Instinct stirs.
And despite everything—despite the horror, despite the guilt, despite my desperate attempts to cling to my humanity—a part of me is excited.
*No. Not yet. I can still control this. I can still—*
But the hunger is already building.
And I'm starting to realize that control might be an illusion.
Just like the treasure chest.
Just like me.
---
[END CHAPTER 1]
