The rain came down in silver sheets, blurring the neon lights of Tokyo's crowded streets.
Yuuto Kisaragi gripped the steering wheel tighter, heart pounding louder than the storm outside. His phone vibrated again on the passenger seat—another call from his boss, no doubt, demanding why the final blueprints weren't finished. He didn't care anymore. His head ached. His chest felt tight, as if an invisible hand was squeezing the life out of him.
"Just a little further… get home, sleep, and forget today ever happened…" he muttered.
But fate had other plans.
The headlights flashed—too late, a truck was skidding through the intersection.
There was no time to turn.
No time to scream.
The world shattered in an explosion of glass, metal, and light.
And then—silence.
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When Yuuto opened his eyes, he expected pain. Hospital lights. The sterile smell of disinfectant.
But instead, he saw the sky. An endless black sky strewn with unfamiliar stars.
Above him, petals drifted down—white, soft, and glowing faintly like snow in the moonlight.
He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, sluggish. His fingertips brushed against silk, not cotton. His chest rose and fell, but the clothes wrapped around him were thick, layered, and embroidered with golden threads.
What is this? Where… am I?
The soft whisper of wind brought the scent of old wood and ancient incense. As he turned his head, Yuuto saw it—stone pillars, cracked and overgrown with vines, surrounded him in a circle.
Above, a massive cherry blossom tree stood in full bloom, though its trunk was split and blackened as if struck by lightning long ago.
And then, the whispers came.
"The Prince has awakened."
"A thousand years... The bloodline still breathes..."
His pulse quickened. Prince? No. He wasn't a prince. He was just—Yuuto. An ordinary architect who should have died in a crash.
But then his hands—pale, slender, and unfamiliar—clenched the silken robes covering his chest. He caught his reflection in the pool of water beside him.
The face that stared back was beautiful, ethereal—too perfect to be his own. Long black hair fell over his shoulders, his eyes shimmered like molten gold under the moonlight, and on his forehead, a faint red mark shaped like a blooming lotus glowed softly.
"No... this isn't me..."
The distant thunder of hooves echoed from beyond the ruined palace.
Voices called out, armored soldiers drawing closer.
"General Xie, we found the sealed chamber!"
"Could it be… the Sleeping Prince of Jinlan?!"
Yuuto's heart raced as shadows approached—among them, one figure stood out, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark armor catching the silver light. His face was cold, strikingly handsome, with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through centuries. But as those eyes met Yuuto's, something flickered—recognition, disbelief, and something deeper, like a long-buried pain.
The general's voice was low, almost a whisper.
"You… it's really you."
Yuuto's vision blurred. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him again was that man stepping forward, hand outstretched, as if reaching for a dream he never thought would return.
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End of Chapter 1