Two streets away, tucked into the shadows of a sleek sedan, Ren waited.
When Emii slid into the passenger seat, she was a mess of apologies and frantic energy. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry. Dravin must have poisoned my brother's mind again. Please, tell me you forgive me." Her eyes, once sharp enough to cut glass, were now filled with a desperate, cloying vulnerability.
Ren masked a predatory smile with a look of practiced hurt. "I'm not angry, baby. Just… wounded."
"Oh, don't be," she pouted, leaning into him. "I don't know what happened today. I woke up dressed like a pauper—flats, Ren! I was wearing flats and a cheap bow! I have this black hole in my memory… it's like I wasn't even there."
"Don't stress yourself, baby," Ren murmured, his voice like velvet over gravel. "I'll take care of you."
Somewhere beyond the veil of that reality...
Emii gasped, her lungs burning as she bolted upright.
The familiar, slightly rhythmic whir of a cheap ceiling fan greeted her. The cream curtains of her modest bedroom fluttered in a mundane morning breeze. There were no chandeliers. No silk. No maids.
"Wait… what?" she whispered, her heart thundering against her ribs.
She scrambled out of bed, her bare feet hitting cold linoleum, and sprinted into the kitchen. "Mamma! Daddu!"
Her parents looked up from their breakfast, startled by her disheveled appearance. "Mamma, I missed you so much! Tell me you missed me too!"
Her mother paused, a spoon of sugar suspended over a teacup. "Miss you? Babes, come feel her forehead. I think our daughter's caught a bug."
Her father chuckled behind his newspaper. "Just a nightmare, honey. Go wash your face."
Emii stood frozen. The smell of parathas, the squeak of her father's slippers—it was all so painfully, wonderfully ordinary. She forced a laugh, waving them off, and retreated to her room.
She lunged for her phone, scrolling through her history with the intensity of a forensic investigator. "Where is the system? Where is my two hundred million? Where is the mission log?"
Nothing. Just spam emails, a passive-aggressive text from her boss, and a notification for a 20% discount on shoes she couldn't afford.
Her shoulders slumped. "I've finally lost it. Too many web novels. My brain is officially fried."
By noon, she was submerged in her real life: spreadsheets, demanding customers, and coffee that tasted like burnt battery acid. She went through the motions, but the faces of Krish and Dravin haunted the periphery of her mind. Were they just ghosts of her imagination?
Dinner was a quiet affair, filled with the soft hum of the television and her mother's laughter. It was safe. It was real.
That night, Emii curled up under her familiar floral duvet, watching the shadows of the fan blades dance on the ceiling. Her eyelids grew heavy. The world began to blur. The sounds of the city outside faded into a low, rhythmic thrum...
The bed felt softer. The air grew cooler, scented with expensive sandalwood and rain.
Whoosh.
A pulse of golden light burned behind her eyelids. Her hand brushed against a fabric so smooth it felt like water.
Silk.
Her eyes snapped open.