The air was cold.
Not the kind of chill from a broken fan or a rainy night in Gusa-but ancient, biting, and laced with something... unnatural.
She blinked.
Her blanket was gone. Her room had vanished.
Instead, she stood barefoot on a silver-like lake, dressed only in her pajamas. Cold water soaked her feet as she faced a massive, glowing purple moon-unlike anything she had ever seen in her life. The wind howled around her, as if it remembered every scream ever uttered in this place.
"What is this...?" she whispered, her voice swallowed by the wind.
Her heart pounded.
Was she daydreaming?
Shnng...
The sharp sound of a sword being drawn echoed in her ears, followed by a deep, baritone voice behind her.
"Who are you?"
She froze.
The voice was deep, commanding, and laced with suspicion. It didn't belong to anyone she knew.
Slowly, she turned.
Behind her stood a man cloaked in black armor, a steel helmet concealing most of his face. His blade gleamed like obsidian beneath the eerie glow of the purple moon. His eyes—silver and sharp—narrowed as they scanned her from head to toe. Pajamas. Barefoot. Soaked. Confused.
As if silently asking, Where did you come from?
"Speak," he barked, the word slicing through the silence like a blade.
She flinched, and the sword nicked her neck-just barely.
"I-I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "I was just... reading. And then..."
The man stepped closer, the water rippling around his boots. He didn't lower his sword.
Then, without warning, he reached out and gripped her chin—his gauntlet cold and unyielding. He tilted her face left, then right, examining her as if she were a specimen, not a person.
Her breath hitched.
His touch wasn't gentle. It was clinical. Possessive. Dangerous.
"You don't have the mark," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "And yet... you are here."
She didn't understand. Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear his words.
"Who are you?" he asked again, softer this time-but no less threatening.
She couldn't speak. Her throat felt tight. Her legs trembled beneath her.
The man's eyes darkened.
"You're afraid," he said, almost amused. "Good. You should be."
He released her chin, and she stumbled back, gasping.
"I am King Lucan," he declared, his voice echoing across the silver lake. "And if you are the Saintess they whisper about... then your life belongs to me."
Lucan?
Then he must be the king I was reading about just a while ago... and now I'm here? The tyrant.
She stumbled backward, heart pounding like a war drum.
King Lucan's grip had vanished, but his presence still pressed against her like a storm cloud. His soldiers emerged from the mist-dark figures cloaked in armor, their boots splashing through the silver lake as they closed in.
Is she inside the novel?
Is this reality... or just a dream?
He pinched her right leg.
She flinched.
The pain was real.
"Grab this woman and tie her!" Lucan commanded, his voice slicing through the air. "We've found the Saintess!"
Saintess?
She didn't know what that meant. She didn't care. If this is reality, then she must escape for her life—because this man is the tyrant king from the novel Throne of Ash and Vengeance.
She turned and ran.
The water slowed her steps, icy and thick around her ankles, but adrenaline surged through her veins. Her breath came in sharp bursts as she pushed forward, slipping and stumbling across the shimmering surface.
Behind her, shouts erupted. Steel clashed. The chase had begun.
"Don't let her escape!" Lucan roared.
She didn't look back.
The lake stretched endlessly, but ahead—just beyond the mist—she saw a flicker of light. A tree? A shore? A way out?
Her foot caught on something beneath the water. She fell hard, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs. Cold rushed over her, soaking her completely.
A shadow loomed above her.
Lucan.
He didn't run. He walked-slowly, deliberately, like a predator savoring the hunt.
"You think you can flee from me?" he said, voice low and cruel. "You were summoned here, girl. This world already knows your name."
She scrambled to her feet, trembling.
"I didn't ask for this!" she cried, backing away from King Lucan's blade.
Lucan raised his sword, eyes gleaming with menace. "No one ever does."
She clenched her fists, trembling. "I swear, if this is some twisted isekai plot, I'm gonna sue the moon!"
Lucan blinked. "...What?"
Before he could react, she turned and bolted-splashing through the silver lake like a panicked duck in pajamas.
"Stop her!" Lucan roared.
Soldiers charged forward, but she was faster than fear. Her foot slipped on a slick stone and she tumbled face-first into the water with a loud splat.
"Okay, cool," she muttered, spitting out lake water. "I'm wet, confused, and possibly hallucinating. Ten out of ten fantasy experience."
She scrambled up and ran again, dodging a soldier who lunged at her. He missed and fell flat on his face.
"Sorry!" she shouted over her shoulder. "I'm new here!"
Another soldier tried to grab her arm-she ducked, spun, and accidentally elbowed him in the gut.
"Oh my gosh, I'm a ninja!" she gasped, immediately tripping over her own foot and landing in a bush.
Lucan watched from the shore, baffled. "Is this... the Saintess?"
One soldier hesitated. "She fights like a drunk squirrel, Your Majesty."
"She's either a divine trickster," Lucan muttered, "or the universe is mocking me."
She popped up from the bush, twigs in her hair, panting. "I'm not the Saintess! I'm unemployed and emotionally unstable! Please let me go home!"
Lucan narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."
"I'm not!" she yelled. "I have bills! I have laundry! I have a half-eaten burger waiting for me!"
The soldiers paused.
Lucan lowered his sword slightly.
And in that moment of confusion, she turned and ran again-this time toward a glowing archway that hadn't been there before.
"Don't let her reach the portal!" Lucan shouted.
But she was already halfway through, yelling, "I regret everything!"
Lucan's eyes widened as the girl vanished halfway into the glowing archway.
She was escaping.
Not on his watch.
With a snarl, he sheathed his sword and broke into a sprint-his heavy armor clanking with every step, water splashing violently beneath him.
"Move!" he barked at his stunned soldiers, who scrambled out of the way like terrified ducks.
The portal shimmered, unstable and pulsing with light. Elira had nearly disappeared into it, her pajama-clad figure flailing like a cartoon character mid-fall.
Lucan lunged.
FWOOOSH.
The portal swallowed him whole.
She landed hard-face-first into damp soil.
The ground was cold, soft, and smelled like moss and something... rotten.
She groaned, coughing out leaves. "Okay... definitely not my bedroom."
Around her loomed towering trees, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. Fog clung to the forest floor like a living thing, and distant growls echoed through the shadows.
Eyes watched her from the darkness.
Glowing. Hungry.
"Great," she muttered. "I landed in a horror game."
She sat up, brushing dirt and twigs from her hair, trying not to panic. Her soaked pajamas clung to her skin, and her heart thudded like a drum.
A low snarl came from behind a tree.
She froze. "Nope. Nope. Nope."
Before she could run, heavy armored boots stomped toward her. The fog parted.
King Lucan emerged—dripping from the lake, his cape now torn and trailing mud, his glare sharp enough to slice through bone.
"You thought you could escape me?" he growled.
She stared at him, stunned. "How did you even follow me?!"
Lucan stepped closer, towering over her. "You entered my realm. You defied my command. You insulted my authority."
"I also insulted your chin-grabbing etiquette," she muttered. "Seriously, boundaries."
From the shadows, something growled louder.
Lucan's eye twitched.
"You are either the Saintess... or the most irritating creature I've ever encountered."
"Can't I be both?" she offered weakly.
Lucan grabbed her by the arm, his grip firm and cold.
"You're not afraid of death, are you?" he said, voice low and dangerous. "Let's see how long that bravery lasts."
Behind them, the growling grew louder.
Elira glanced over her shoulder. "Uh... Your Majesty? I think we have bigger problems than my attitude."
Lucan turned slowly.
Three monstrous figures emerged from the mist-fangs bared, claws gleaming.
Lucan sighed. "Perfect."
"What do you mean perfect?" she asked, terrifyingly.
She glanced over her shoulder. The growling was louder now.
Three monstrous figures emerged from the mist—fangs bared, claws gleaming, eyes glowing with hunger.
She took a shaky step back.
Lucan didn't flinch.
Instead, he turned to her slowly, his expression unreadable.
Then—without warning—he shoved her forward.
She stumbled, nearly falling face—first into the fog. "Hey! What the hell?!"
Lucan's voice was calm, almost bored. "If you're truly the Saintess, the monsters will fear you."
"I told you—I'm not the Saintess!" she shouted, backing away from the snarling beasts. "I'm just a girl with anxiety and a questionable diet!"
Lucan crossed his arms. "Then prove it. Survive."
She turned to him, eyes wide. "You're seriously using me as bait?!"
"Consider it a test," he said coolly. "If you die, you were lying. If you live... I'll reconsider."
The monsters crept closer, sniffing the air.
Seriously, this tyrant really has no mercy!
She raised her hands. "Okay, okay, let's think this through. I'm not tasty. I'm mostly stress and sarcasm. You don't want this meat!"
One of the beasts snarled louder.
Lucan watched, amused. "You're doing well. Keep negotiating."
"I will throw a rock at you," she hissed at him.
Lucan smirked. "Bravery and spite. Interesting combination."
She stood frozen as the monsters crept closer, their growls vibrating through the fog.
She raised her hands, palms out. "Okay, listen. I'm not edible. I'm mostly stress and caffeine. You eat me, you'll get anxiety and regret."
The monsters snarled louder.
She pointed at one. "You! You look like you've got digestive issues. Don't risk it."
Lucan watched from behind, arms crossed, unimpressed.
She took a shaky step back. "I'm not the Saintess. I'm not magical. I'm not even athletic. I trip over flat surfaces. Please—go chase something shinier."
One of the beasts lunged.
She screamed and dove sideways, rolling into a patch of moss. "I WAS KIDDING!"
The monster snarled and charged again—fangs bared, claws slicing through the air.
Then-
CLANG!
A flash of steel.
Lucan stepped between them, sword drawn, cape billowing like a drama king in full glory. His blade met the monster's claw with a deafening clash, sparks flying.
"You dare touch what's mine?" he growled.
Elira blinked from the ground. "Wait—what's yours?! I'm not a pet!"
Lucan didn't answer. He spun, slashing through the air with deadly precision. The monster shrieked and stumbled back, wounded.
The others hesitated.
Lucan turned to them, eyes glowing with fury. "Leave. Or die."
The beasts retreated into the mist, snarling in defeat.
She sat up, panting. "Okay. That was terrifying. And kind of hot. But mostly terrifying."
Lucan sheathed his sword and looked down at her. "You bluff like a fool and you look like a stupid talking to that monsters."
She squinted at him. "It was all your plan!"
Lucan smirked. "At least you survived. For now."