His illness was the worst part of adjusting in a new world. His chest would flare up in pain and he grew unnaturally tired throughout the day. His character was not a sickly person. That was his first indignation time did not flow linearly to the novel.

No doctor could tell him what was wrong, but their silence gave him an answer.

He hated the idea, but his soul was rejecting his new body.

Moreover, his dreams were becoming more frequent. 

And for some reason, this particular dream he could never recall, only keeping his feeling of despair.

Zhen Xue swiftly turned to his side, narrowly avoiding a meticulous swing of a sword, its sharp edge cutting through the air just inches from his neck. 

With equal precision, he cleaved his last adversary in two with his blade. The metallic sound resonated faintly, mimicking a droplet of water that explodes into a powerful burst of wind. The eruption of energy resonated for miles, falling on deaf ears, except for one individual.

“What have you done?” Ming Yi asked, falling to his knees in despair. He stared at Zhen Xue with an utterly broken expression, taking in the sword drenched in blood.

Wind blew through their clothes and hair, carrying the rotting stench of decaying corpses from the burning field around them. The bodies belonged to Ming Yi’s village. For him to feel wronged, Zhen Xue could understand.

When he doesn’t respond, Ming Yi’s face distorts with anger. “Zhen Xue!” he shouted, choking back a sob like everything that was right was suddenly wrong in the world. “Why?! Why have you done this?! When have I wronged you?!”

For a moment, Zhen Xue froze where he stood, picturing the orphaned boy he sheltered. How the boy fought with immense bravery to remain by his side, always striving to excel for his sake. 

Zhen Xue thought he’d grown numb for good after taking so many lives, but upon hearing Ming Yi’s words, he discovered a pain worse than the hundred blades protruding from his back. “I’ve tried,” he said, taking a step towards him, his voice raw. “Believe me, I’ve tried so many times to save you, but each time, you still choose the same path.”

Ming Yi’s dark clothes soiled with blood from the nearby bodies as he watched him in confusion, green eyes perceiving him with hurt.

“It’s not a matter of what you’ve done, but what you will do,” Zhen Xue lamented, taking the last step to reach him. The sword tightened in his grasp, thinking of the events that have yet to unfold, the knowledge he shouldn’t have but gained through his many lifetimes. He took a deep breath, continuing with resolution, “The alternative is a future I never wish to bear again.”

Ming Yi shook where he was kneeling, unable to rise to his feet. Every word seemed to drive a nail into his desperate hope that Zhen Xue would change his mind. That maybe he’d take Ming Yi’s hand, leaving this chaos behind and return to their peaceful life before the slaughter, but the dead from his village will forever stain his hands.

Ming Yi didn’t want to face reality.

He was not the same person Ming Yi once knew, and Ming Yi was not the same little kid he found doing parlor tricks on the streets. They were both grown men with different mindsets and goals they wanted to achieve. However, Ming Yi still saw him as his friend, but Zhen Xue saw him as his enemy.

As Zhen Xue subtly shifted where he stood, the swords in his back twisted, sinking further into his bones. 

The taste of blood lingered in his mouth as he fought to suppress a cough, a stark reminder that he’s not long for this world. With his sword that he used to reshape his destiny, hovering over Ming Yi, he watched how Ming Yi didn’t move, as though willing to accept whatever fate he’d give him. The thought almost made him fall to his knees in despair.

“I’ll try again,” Zhen Xue said, putting the sword through himself instead. His next regression would be different. He’d use what he learned to ensure there didn’t need to be a sacrifice.

Ming Yi’s eyes widened, catching him as he falls forward into Ming Yi’s embrace. His best friend bellowed out a desperate cry overhead, pulling the swords from his broken body, hands fumbling as they seize the metal in his shaking hands, but Zhen Xue couldn’t feel anything.

“No matter how many times it takes…” Zhen Xue mumbled, vowing against Ming Yi’s quivering chest. A flash of metal hurtled over towards them, Ming Yi too distracted to notice. Zhen Xue slowly closed his eyes, acceptance washing over him as he whispered with his final breath, “There has to be a future where we can both survive.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“What’s that stupid look on your face?” Xu Yang quipped, fixing the golden cuff links on his sleeves. They matched his hair, Zhen Xue thought faintly. Both a bright color, as though plucked from the sun itself, much like his brother who wore them. 

The closed ballroom doors loomed ahead, music leaking through the cracks of the door frame, carrying a harmonious melody of violins, chattering voices, and glasses clinking together with the event already started. 

Was he making a face? Probably, he realized, lips twitching beneath his metaphorical mask. He could barely contain the urge to plummet into chaos and laugh in hysteria. 

Fifteen years of this bullshit, constantly being pushed around and used like a puppet. Nothing to do all day except wander around the empty hallways, fiddle with his thumbs, and play with his inventions, while waiting for the plot points to take place. 

He couldn’t even scroll on social media for memes to find comfort. That type of technology didn’t exist, though he wished now it did. A stupid thought, but one that gnawed at him during his endless days of confinement. 

It was hard to believe he would be twenty soon, the same age he lost his biological family in the modern world, yet no closer to their murderer than before. 

Zhen Xue chuckled to himself, a dry laugh that earned him a crazed look from Xu Yang like he’d lost his mind. 

He ignored him, barely standing still from the giddiness that made his toes curl. He could already imagine the scenario he longed for that was about to take place. How he would no longer be an extra character, barely spared a glance, stuck in a limbo while waiting for the main characters’ arrival. With some careful planning, tonight was set up to rally the players for a common goal of heroism.

And for a rare occasion, he would play the largest role among them: the astute antagonist. “Hell yes. I’m ready for this,” he chimed with a haughty grin, bouncing on the heel of his shoes.

Xu Yang broke into a laugh from the surprise of his curse, tension fading from his features. He smiled fondly, as though infected by his unusual behavior. Before saying more, Zhen Xue watched him shake his head, pushing open the doors with both hands. “By the gods, I don’t know what you’ve done now, and I don’t think I want to know.”

Not waiting around, Zhen Xue stuck his tongue out at him before merging with the crowd. Those gathered were mingling among themselves, adorned in imported fabric from the North that reflected a myriad of colors. 

With a hidden smile on his lips, Zhen Xue snagged a glass of champagne from a server. He muttered his thanks, sipping the bubbling liquid before spotting out the four biggest nuisances in the room. 

For tonight to be a successful event, the neighboring kingdoms had to attend. 

The Shadowhearts of the Autumn Court, the Grimbanes of the Winter Court, the Fenhallows of the Summer Court, and the Norwoods of the Spring Court. Zhen Xue thought it was wonderful none of them got along beyond pleasantries.

These kids didn’t know what they were doing. Playing tag on a battleground of chess would make them pawns in a larger game. It was only through their ancestors’ efforts that their name bore any weight. Even though their ancestors commanded unparalleled respect, love, and power, their legacy had become one of manipulation and greed. 

Judging from their glances at tonight’s prize, nothing changed in that regard, but this was exactly why they got invited… To do what they did best, draw unwarranted attention. 

Zhen Xue smiled delightfully as he watched them fall into his hands like pawns.

“Better be careful who sees that,” Xu Yang warned quietly, stepping beside him. His gaze flickered towards above the staircase to a pair of doors left ajar. “The birds are always watching and looking for every opportunity to migrate in our backyard.”

Of course, he knew that much. He’d been living in this house long enough to know the ears that go unseen, including the new ones planted by their esteemed guests. “At least they flock together,” he huffed under his breath. “If they end up in one place, perhaps we can settle our score.”

Xu Yang nearly choked with laughter. “You mean when we were in sixth grade?” 

It was by law that the future heirs attend school together. Zhen Xue tried not to think about those days too much, but at least he got to leave the palace for a short while. Xu Yang was speaking of that one time the heirs ganged up against him and stole his clothes while he was in the bath. 

As though to interrupt the spur of that memory, Grimbane’s heir tripped over a pile of skirts. His entire glass of wine fell right into the future queen of the Autumn Court.

“Ah, that’s such a tragedy,” Zhen Xue said with an entirely straight face. “I almost want to hand him another glass.”

The small quirk of Xu Yang’s lips was unmissable. “His suit could use some color too,” he remarked thoughtfully.

Zhen Xue laughed, glad that he wasn’t sipping his drink or he would’ve choked. Even though he wanted to keep enjoying the view of these dimwits, there were more pressing concerns. His gaze flitted through the crowd, frowning that he didn’t spot who he was looking for. 

As that thought crossed his mind, a silver mask slipped into the corner of his vision. The man was moving unhurriedly through the swamp of fabric, towards the artifact presented near the front of the room. 

From his fur coat and boots, probably a foreigner from the north wanting a look at the prize of tonight. Zhen Xue turned away, no longer interested, but something made him pause—a distant memory of the past.

That man was the ghost that helped him long ago. How was he in the novel? 

Zhen Xue spurred into action, moving through the crowd to reach him.

The floor shifted, shaking from an unseen force.

People gasped and murmured but Zhen Xue didn’t care. He didn’t notice the problem until too late.

A tremendous weight crashed into him, sending him and the person who ran into him both toppling backwards to the ground. Pain rattled through his head, making him cringe.

The glint of a sword sliced overhead, exactly where he was standing merely moments ago. 

Shit, he thought to himself, looking down at the young guard passed out against his chest. 

He checked his pulse to ensure he was fine, and when he found nothing evidently wrong with him, Zhen Xue looked towards the front of the room for that man with a silver mask. 

Thump.

Another body fell beside himself making him flinch. 

The man with the silver mask hovered overhead, smiling down at him. His movements were playfully flirtatious, as though he didn’t knock two men out cold with the blunt end of his folded fan.

With an amused huff, Zhen Xue accepted his hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. The delicate hand curled around his fingers—a touch of warmth that tightened around his heart. 

Oh, this man was dangerous.

A mystery that beckoned him to solve, and Zhen Xue was already invested.

The man offered a dazzling smile, as though that alone was enough of a response. He dipped close enough to murmur into his ear. “Follow my lead.” 

And Zhen Xue did, swept into a dance he would not forget.