It was raining outside the hospital window.
A dull drizzle pattered rhythmically against the glass, a gentle but persistent tap that mirrored the dull ache in Li Yun's chest. The monitors beside his bed beeped slowly, steadily, almost like they were afraid of disturbing the silence. A tray of untouched food sat on the table nearby, the steam long gone cold. And in his lap, resting atop a worn blanket, lay a stack of handwritten pages.
His unfinished manuscript.
Li Yun stared at it like a man confronting a ghost. He had started writing the novel three months ago, when the nurses had gently encouraged him to "keep his mind active." That had felt like a euphemism for "try not to spiral while you're stuck here with nothing but pills and tubes." But it had worked—for a while. Writing gave him something to do. Something to control. Something that didn't end in needles and test results.
He wrote about a world full of magic and monsters. About a Hero summoned from Earth to slay an ancient Demon Lord. About kingdoms teetering on the edge of ruin, and demon generals with tragic pasts. He had barely finished introducing the setting when life got in the way.
His health had worsened. His hands shook more often. And the story, like so many things in his life, had remained incomplete.
He sighed, letting the weight of the unfinished pages press gently against his lap. The fluorescent lights above flickered faintly. Somewhere down the hall, a nurse was humming a tune, off-key and barely audible.
"I never even got past the first battle…" he muttered, scratching his head.
Demon Lord Veylar rises. The Hero awakens. The fate of the world turns…
And then nothing. The story simply... paused. Like a page torn from a book.
He leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling tiles. "Maybe I'll give it another try tomorrow," he murmured.
The next moment, everything went white.
---
Li Yun didn't remember falling asleep. Nor did he remember standing up, or opening a door, or stepping through light. But he definitely wasn't in the hospital anymore.
He was lying on something cold and smooth—stone, maybe. The air was thick, heavy, with the scent of burning incense and iron. A low, guttural chant echoed from unseen voices, rising in eerie harmony. When he opened his eyes, he saw pillars—twisting, jagged towers that reached up into an endless ceiling.
"The seal weakens... The vessel arrives..."
The voice wasn't human. It rang deep inside his head, like the echo of a forgotten god.
Li Yun sat up slowly.
The moment he did, a wave of strength pulsed through his body. The weakness in his limbs was gone. The numbness in his fingers—gone. His breath came easily, his chest didn't hurt, and when he looked down at his hands...
"These aren't my hands..."
They were longer, larger, veined with lines of faint red energy that pulsed beneath the skin. His nails were blackened, sharper. His skin, once pale and sickly, now had a deep crimson hue.
"What the hell…" he muttered, standing.
His voice echoed—not just through the chamber, but deeper. Richer. It didn't sound like him. It sounded... powerful.
He looked around. The chamber was vast, carved from obsidian stone with glowing red runes lining the floor. At the far end was a towering throne, jagged and impossibly gothic, like it had been forged from dragon bones. Demonic statues flanked either side of the room, their eyes glowing a soft crimson.
And standing before him—kneeling, actually—were two beautiful women, heads bowed, armor gleaming in the dim red light.
"My Lord Veylar," the silver-haired one said, her voice unwavering. "You have returned."
Li Yun blinked.
Wait.
Veylar?
Demon Lord Veylar?!
His brain caught up a moment too late. He staggered backward, nearly tripping over the long, black and crimson robe he now wore.
"No, no, no—this is a dream," he said, raising both hands. "This is just the meds talking. This is just... hallucination... That's all this is."
The other woman, with obsidian hair and small curled horns, looked up with a smirk. Her eyes glowed faintly violet, and her outfit—less armor and more scandalous noblewear—clung to her curves like it was painted on.
"Still disoriented from the seal's decay. That's expected," she purred. "But your magic... it's already radiating again. The realm will feel your presence soon."
Li Yun's breath caught.
This couldn't be happening. But the air was too real. The ground beneath his bare feet, the hum of magic in the walls, the weight of the robes on his shoulders—all of it was too real to be a dream.
He turned and ran toward one of the stone walls, desperate for a mirror.
What stared back from the polished surface wasn't his frail body. It was a tall, crimson-skinned figure with a sharp jawline, glowing amber eyes, long black hair tied loosely behind his head, and an aura of quiet, menacing authority.
And yet... behind that powerful façade, Li Yun could still see his own terrified expression.
He was in the body of Demon Lord Veylar.
The character he'd created. The one he had designed to be terrifying, unstoppable, sealed away by the Hero in a desperate battle.
The Demon Lord of his own story.
"No... this can't be," he whispered. "I didn't even finish the plot! I don't even remember how this world works!"
The silver-haired general rose from her kneeling position and stepped forward, placing one gauntleted hand over her heart.
"Lady Xyris, Warlord General of the Third Legion. I am yours to command, my Lord."
The horned woman followed suit, bowing gracefully, her voice teasing and velvety.
"And I, Velmira of the Shadow Court. Your most loyal enchanter, and... companion, should you desire."
Li Yun's brain short-circuited for a moment.
A general in full armor. A seductive enchantress. A demon throne. A cursed name. A half-written story.
He clenched his fists and took a shaky breath.
"Okay," he muttered. "So I've been summoned into my own damn novel... not as the Hero... but as the Demon Lord."
He looked up at the two waiting women, both watching him with anticipation and—was that admiration?
"And you're saying... I'm back? As in, people know the seal broke?"
Xyris nodded solemnly.
"The news will spread by nightfall. The world will soon know that the Demon Lord lives again."
Li Yun closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
I didn't sign up for this. I wanted to finish the book, not become it.
He turned back toward the throne, then quickly spun away from it again.
Nope. Not sitting there. Too much pressure. Too much responsibility.
"I need... I need a moment," he said aloud.
Velmira tilted her head. "A moment for what?"
"Uh... to... plan my glorious return, obviously," he said, smiling nervously.
As the two generals saluted and turned to give him space, Li Yun slumped against a cold pillar, his thoughts spinning wildly.
This isn't happening. I was just trying to write a fantasy story. I didn't even give the world a name! I don't know the rules! I don't even remember who's supposed to betray who!
And worst of all...
I don't want to rule an army. I just want to grow some damn vegetables.
He let out a long sigh.
"Note to self," he muttered, "next time, write a slice-of-life romance instead."