Urano rubbed his eyes as the glow of the monitor left marks on his skin. Three stars. "Promising, but boring afterward." Another faceless review marking him as a mediocre writer. The room was silent, except for the constant hum of the air conditioner and the ticking of the clock that seemed to mock him.
"What's the point of writing anymore?" he muttered, tossing his pen across the desk. The half-filled paper crumpled under the impact. Nothing mattered now—not the story he loved, nor the criticism that consumed him.
And then, everything changed.
A supernatural chill ran down his spine, and the light in the room seemed to warp. Floating before him was a yellowed sheet of paper, its edges blackened as if scorched by fire. Golden letters formed slowly, as if an invisible hand were writing them in flames:
Welcome to the story: "Blades are Forged in Blood".
Genre: Dark fantasy, war, tragedy
Participant Objective: Survive within the narrative
Restrictions:
Do not reveal to other characters that you come from the outside.
Do not alter the story by mentioning its ending.
Your choices will affect the fate of the world.
Penalties:
Violating the rules will result in immediate punishment, proportional to the severity of the infraction.
Urano swallowed hard. His hands trembled. "Another cursed roleplay… just a hallucination," he tried to convince himself, but the last line appeared in bright red:
Warning: Death in the story equals real death.
The chill crawling down his spine left no doubt: he was trapped.
"No. No. No," he muttered, voice shaking.
"This is a bad joke. A delusion. A cosmic hangover."
He had read enough isekai novels to know how these things worked:
You die, a system shows up, it gives you some absurd mission and—voilà—you're the hero now.
But why him? This was clearly the joke.
And then another line hit him like a brick:
"Find the other external creator…"
Someone else was trapped with him?
Another writer?
A helping hand… or a threat?
He didn't get a chance to think it through.
There was a soft knock on the door.
"Young master? Are you alright? It's time to get ready."
A young woman's voice. Cheerful, melodic… and oddly familiar.
Like someone he'd known his whole life.
"Who are you?" he asked, not moving.
"Oh no, not the amnesia game again, young master?"
The door opened without waiting for permission.
The girl who entered was… strange.
She looked about fifteen or sixteen.
black eyes. black hair.
And cat ears.
Cat. Ears.
Urano turned pale.
"A domestic RPG character?" he whispered, frozen.
The girl approached him casually.
She carried a bucket of warm water and a sponge, then knelt in front of him.
"Wait, wait, WAIT! What are you doing?!"
"I'm cleaning you. You said after what happened yesterday, you needed some love. And I… well… I couldn't say no."
Urano tried to back away, but the girl was stronger than she looked.
He took a deep breath, trying to make sense of things.
"What happened yesterday?"
The girl blinked, surprised.
"Are you serious? Yesterday, you rejected your fiancée in front of the entire court. You said you couldn't marry a stranger. That your heart already belonged to someone else."
Urano stayed silent.
She looked down and added:
"You said you loved me. That you didn't care I was just a lowly maid."
His soul hit the floor.
"What kind of novel did I fall into?" he thought.
"Look… I don't know how to explain this, but—"
"Role playing again?" he sighed, as he put on his clothes which had imperial patterns.
"You know I can't be your official wife. But I'm happy just being by your side."
Urano looked at the mirror.
For the first time, he saw his reflection clearly.
A stunning young man with jet-black hair, intense blue eyes, and an elegance he never had in real life.
His clothes screamed nobility…
But his eyes were still his own.
And that's when he understood.
He wasn't dreaming.
He was trapped inside a novel.
It took Urano a while to accept what was happening. This was a very common script in current reincarnation stories, but that doesn't make it any easier because he doesn't even know the story he's in.
"Come on, Yuan," said the girl. "Your family's waiting in the dining room. And you still need to deal with yesterday."
"Yeah, right. Nothing like a bright morning to apologize for rejecting an arranged marriage with an improvised love confession to a catgirl maid. I'm in a discount novel," Urano thought.
The walk down the halls was a mix of awe and terror. Everything was meticulously designed—stained glass windows depicting epic scenes, carved columns, the scent of incense in the air. Like a stage play with no director.
When he reached the dining hall, three people were waiting. The man at the head of the table, with blond hair and blue eyes, had to be his older brother. Next to him, a young woman with curly brown hair, around 24 years old, and a more mature blonde woman, likely his mother.
All of them—impeccable. Beautiful. Almost unreal.
Urano swallowed hard. He remembered how he used to look and suddenly felt like a potato planted among statues.
He bowed with elegance, like he'd been doing it all his life. To his surprise, his body responded instinctively.
They all looked at him with a mix of tension and expectation.
Urano swallowed again. "Think like a writer. Think like a character. Think like… whatever the hell you are now."
"Good morning. Thank you for allowing me to speak," he said, not sure how the words flowed so naturally. "I apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was impulsive and, above all, disrespectful."
Silence. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, a new notification popped up before his eyes:
System Activated: Narrative Translation
Your speech will adapt to the character to avoid suspicion.
+2 Coherence Bonus
Temporary +1 Charisma
"Finally using your brain, huh?" his older sister snapped.
"Denisse, don't be cruel," his older brother said. "Yuan's growing up. Rejecting a political marriage for love… romantic, if not very useful."
"He's got a poet's heart," his mother sighed wistfully.
"Poet my ass," Urano thought. But he smiled anyway.
Then came the final blow.
"The Delemon family accepted the apology," the older brother announced—probably he had apologized on his behalf. "But… the heiress insisted on seeing you again. She still believes in destiny."
Urano shivered. Just what he needed—an obsessive, aristocratic fiancée.
"You'll meet with her in an hour. Be diplomatic. And if possible, be pleasant."
"Don't ask for miracles."
They began eating. The aroma was exquisite. When Urano tasted the smoked meat in blueberry sauce, he nearly cried. It was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. He thought bitterly about his old fast food diet and smiled in silence.
"I'm glad you've come to your senses. I understand you're in love with your maid. She grew up with you—it's natural. That's why we usually assign same-gender attendants—"
"My King!" the mother interrupted. "Let's not forget what happened with his father. Yesterday was the first time he met his fiancée..."
Urano raised an eyebrow. Did Yuan's father also have an affair with a maid? Every sentence seemed to unlock new lore. One thing was clear: this story had more layers than he remembered writing.
His brother took back control of the conversation:
"The Duchess Delemon specifically asked to marry you. By joining her lineage, you'll bring political stability. You'll be a useful piece… if you behave."
And there it was.
They didn't want him to rule. They wanted him to decorate.
A cardboard noble. A trophy husband.
But for Urano, that sounded like an early retirement. And a safe one.
"If I stay away from the center of power, I survive longer."
He was about to respond when a red warning flashed before his eyes:
⚠️ System Warning
Revealing the truth to characters (i.e., telling them they're fictional) carries severe penalties:
• Narrative Karma Penalty
• Creator Termination Possible
⚠️ Repeated violations may trigger execution protocol
He frowned. Best to keep his mouth shut.
"You'll meet with her today," his brother said. "Apologize and treat her with respect. It's not what we wanted, but it's what the kingdom needs."
Urano nodded silently.
When the time came, he was guided to another part of the enormous castle—a special terrace for guests, overlooking the imperial gardens. His fiancée was already there, dressed formally. Beside her, her lady-in-waiting held a small box with sapphire earrings—his brother's peace offering.
And then she appeared.
Light brown hair, intense hazel eyes, a simple dress made from luxurious fabrics. Her smile was delicate, but her steps—confident. Like someone who already knew this was her domain.
He looked at her.
She looked at him.
And in that moment, a new notification appeared before both of them:
Another "External Creator" detected!
The other reincarnated individual has been identified.
Threat Level: High. Potential: Unknown.
Recommendation: Evaluate before trusting.
Achievement Unlocked: First Encounter. +5 Narrative Points
She narrowed her eyes.
Urano gave a nervous smile.
"Hello. I'm glad to see you again," he said softly.
She approached with elegance… but didn't lower her guard.
"And I'm glad to see you too, Yuan. Although… I could've sworn you didn't talk like this before."
"We're so screwed," he thought.