The night air was cool against Fionlyn Markwern's skin as she sat by the river, staring at the neon reflections trembling on the black water. A can of cheap beer dangled loosely in her hand, condensation dripping onto her jeans. It was almost midnight, the city alive only in distant hums and flickering lights.
Her bag of convenience-store snacks sat beside her, unopened. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't even sure why she'd bought them, except to pretend she had a reason to be here.
They call me a misfortune magnet, she thought bitterly. And maybe they're right. Everything I touch breaks, everyone I love leaves. It's almost a superpower.
She tilted her head back and took a long sip. The cheap alcohol burned, but it was easier than thinking.
The footsteps came softly at first. She didn't notice until they stopped, directly behind her. The hair at her nape rose.
Before she could turn, a sudden shove sent her plunging into the river.
The world fractured into cold and bubbles. Water filled her ears, her lungs screamed, and everything slowed into terrible clarity.
Above, a shadow leaned over the edge, a faint grin visible beneath a hood. A smile. Too calm. Too cruel.
Maybe this is it, she thought, darkness wrapping around her. Maybe it's better this way.
Her body went slack. Her vision dimmed.
When she opened her eyes, it was to blinding sunlight.
Lyn sat upright with a gasp, chest heaving, hair clinging to her face. Except—her hair was no longer black. Strands of brunette and blonde shimmered like sunlight on water.
"What the—?" She scrambled to her feet, staring around in horror.
The room was enormous, opulent. A chandelier glittered above, pale curtains framed a garden view, and the bed she had just risen from was bigger than her entire apartment. Everything gleamed—polished, expensive, alien.
Her heart pounded as she stumbled toward the mirror.
The reflection nearly made her scream. The same face. Same eyes. But… different. Sharper somehow. Healthier. Beautiful in a way she'd never been allowed to be.
Okay. Either I died and got upgraded, or reality is broken.
The door burst open with a crash. A maid nearly dropped a tray of porcelain cups.
"Miss Fionlyn! You're awake!"
"Miss… who?" Lyn croaked.
Moments later the hallway thundered with footsteps. A flood of servants whispered and cried out her name. Two guards in dark suits stood at the door—one tall and unreadable, the other grinning like he'd won the lottery.
Inside, a middle-aged man barreled toward her, throwing his arms around her in a crushing hug. "Lyn! My treasure!"
Lyn stiffened, arms hovering awkwardly. "…Uh. Hi… Dad?"
A woman entered behind him, tall and elegant, her smile sweet but sharp enough to cut glass. Her eyes roved over Lyn slowly, searching.
"You look… different," the woman said.
"Hair vitamins," Lyn blurted.
The man—her "father"—beamed, oblivious. "We must inform the Lawrences! Michael will be beside himself!"
Lyn blinked. Michael? Who's Michael? More importantly… who am I?
Later, alone in the bathroom, she stared at the golden locket around her neck. Inside was a faded photograph: her younger self smiling with a boy who held her protectively. His smile was dazzling, easy, familiar in a way that hurt. Tucked behind was a note.
For the day you forget, I'll remind you. — M.L.
"M.L.," she murmured. "Milk? Please be a person and not a beverage."
A knock at the door interrupted her panic.
"Miss," a maid said timidly, "Mr. Michael Lawrence has arrived."
Her stomach dropped. Oh. M.L. Not milk. Worse.
The grand salon of the estate was more like a throne room, sunlight spilling through tall windows, flowers arranged in golden vases. Servants parted as a man strode in.
Michael Lawrence.
He was devastatingly handsome, his presence like a storm contained in a tailored suit. Eyes sharp enough to cut, steps sure enough to command. The air around him shifted, people shrinking back instinctively.
Lyn's breath caught. He was the boy from the locket—only grown, dangerous, and breathtaking.
"Lyn…" His voice was soft, almost reverent.
Before she could react, he was across the room, pulling her into an embrace. Strong arms wrapped around her as if she were something precious returned from the dead.
"You came back," he whispered.
Lyn froze, hands hovering before she awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Hello… Michael… Milk. Uh, Michael."
His lips twitched into the smallest smile. "Mich. To you."
He pulled back to search her face, eyes burning with relief and something deeper, something possessive. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got software-updated without reading the terms."
He chuckled, low and brief. It was enough to make the guards at the door whisper in disbelief.
Lyn swallowed. Oh no. This man is serious trouble.
That night, alone in her new room, she turned the locket in her hand. The phone on the bedside table buzzed—a sleek device already set to her face.
She nearly dropped it when a message appeared.
WELCOME BACK, FIONLYN. DID YOU ENJOY YOUR SWIM?
Her blood ran cold.
WHO IS THIS? she typed, fingers shaking.
Three dots. Then—
TURN AROUND.
The curtains stirred in the night breeze. She whirled. Nothing. Just shadows.
Far away, on a rooftop overlooking the estate, a hooded figure smiled at their glowing screen. A silver ring caught the moonlight, engraved with two initials: A.M.
Inside, Lyn's door opened. Michael stepped in, his presence filling the room like stormclouds.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked gently.
She held out the phone, pale. He read the message, jaw tightening. His aura shifted, dangerous.
"Ethan," he called. A man appeared instantly at the door.
"Perimeter," Michael ordered, voice ice. "Physical and financial."
"As you wish," Ethan said, vanishing like a shadow.
Michael turned back to her, softer now. "You're safe here."
Lyn bit her lip. "Someone pushed me… before I woke up here. In the water. And now they're here too."
His gaze never wavered. "Then let me be the one thing that doesn't change."
Tears stung her eyes. She gave a weak laugh. "Crying already? Episode one and I'm a fountain."
"I like fountains," he said simply.
She snorted through her tears, unable to stop herself. And for the first time since she had opened her eyes in this strange, impossible world… she almost felt safe.
Far away, the hooded figure whispered into the night, voice curling with amusement.
"See you soon, Lyn."
The wind chimes outside rattled out of tune.
And the darkness closed in.