The city never noticed when someone disappeared.
At least, that was what River told himself as he stood on the edge of the bridge, his fingers clenched tight around the rusted railing. The wind howled through the steel cables and stirred his hair, but the rest of the world carried on without pause. Cars rushed past below. Neon signs blinked lazily in the distance. Somewhere, a drunk man was laughing.
No one looked up.
No one saw him.
He doubted they would care even if they did.
River closed his eyes and let the weight of the world settle into his chest one last time. All the disappointments. The years of struggling to matter. To be seen. To be anything.
He exhaled.
And let go.
SPLASH.
The first thing he felt wasn't pain...it was cold.
Not the kind of cold that numbed. The kind that burned.
Saltwater slammed into him like a wall, crashing into his lungs before he could scream. He flailed, broke the surface, and coughed violently as air flooded back into his chest. His vision blurred. His arms thrashed against something grainy—sand?
A wave rolled over him, then another, each one dragging him further onto shore like he was some discarded piece of driftwood. When the sea finally released him, he lay there, gasping, shivering, eyes squeezed shut against the sun that blazed overhead.
But something was wrong.
When he opened his eyes, the sky above him shimmered in hues that weren't natural—lavender and gold, streaked with clouds that glowed faintly around the edges. He blinked slowly, heart pounding.
This wasn't the city.
This wasn't Earth.
River sat up, groaning. His body felt… different. Taller, leaner. His arms were stronger than he remembered, but covered in small, thin scars. His hands bore no calluses—just strange markings burned into the skin of his right wrist, symbols that pulsed faintly in the light.
He looked down at his clothes.
He wasn't wearing jeans and a hoodie anymore. Instead, he wore robes—midnight blue, threaded with silver and high collars. Embroidery swirled down his sleeves in the shape of runes, the language completely unfamiliar. They felt expensive, ceremonial. Like something you wore when you were about to be sacrificed.
Before he could gather his thoughts, movement caught his eye.
Two men stood a short distance away, walking briskly toward a small boat anchored at the edge of the shore. Their outfits looked like they belonged to some kind of guard force—thick leathers, polished metal plates over their shoulders, and blue crests pinned to their chests.
"Hey!" River called. "Wait! Where am I?!"
The shorter of the two guards paused and turned.
River barely had time to blink before the man stormed toward him—and without a word, drove his boot into River's ribs.
He collapsed into the sand, breath ripped from his lungs.
"Still yapping?" the guard snarled. "You're lucky we didn't dump your sorry corpse halfway here."
River gasped, coughing, eyes wide.
"I—I don't even know who—"
"You don't need to know. Born from the High Wizard, can't even spark a candle. A shame to your bloodline. And now? You're someone else's problem."
The man spat beside him and turned back toward the boat.
River remained curled in the sand, stunned, chest heaving. The boat pushed off moments later, sail catching wind as it drifted into the sea.
He was alone.
Utterly alone.
Slowly, he sat up, wrapping an arm around his bruised ribs. His eyes drifted to the trees behind him—massive, gnarled things with bark that shimmered like stone and leaves that glowed faintly blue. Birds with shimmering feathers darted between the branches, and something howled in the far distance.
This wasn't home. This wasn't anywhere he'd ever known.
And then it hit him.
Not a memory. Not a vision.
A flood.
FLASH.
A boy kneeling before a tribunal of women clad in ornate armor.
"You are no longer welcome in the High Realms, Isen Faelir."
FLASH.
A tall, cruel man—regal robes, pale eyes filled with loathing.
"You are no son of mine."
FLASH.
A ship. Chains. Laughter. Exile.
River's breath caught as the memories tore through him. They weren't his—but they were real. They felt real.
And they were inside him.
He clutched his skull, overwhelmed. "What is this…?"
He wasn't in his own body anymore.
He had become someone else.
Isen Faelir.
The banished son of a great mage. Born from power. Cast out for weakness.
River shook, not from cold, but from disbelief.
He'd jumped into a river to die.
And now he'd woken in the body of a disgraced heir in some magical realm straight out of a fantasy novel?
What kind of sick afterlife was this?
Before he could piece it together, a new sound broke the silence.
Footsteps. Fast. Heavy. And close.
River turned.
Bursting out from the trees came a woman—tall, muscular, and furious. Her hair was pulled into a tight braid that swung like a whip behind her. She wore a metal-plated bra and a short skirt of leather strips that revealed powerful, toned legs. Her arms were bare, save for the runed daggers she gripped in both hands.
She was beautiful.
She was deadly.
And she was charging right at him.
"Enemy!" she shouted.
River stumbled back. "Wait—I'm not—!"
She didn't listen.
Her first strike missed by inches. The second nearly took off his arm.
He ducked. Rolled. Panic clouded his thoughts.
He had no weapon. No training. No idea what was going on.
But then she lunged again—daggers raised—and River did the only thing his body seemed to remember how to do.
He tackled her.
He landed on top, pinning her wrists to the ground. She glared up at him, breathing hard, chest rising and falling. But her eyes—her eyes were uncertain now. Confused.
River's grip loosened.
He slowly pushed himself back, lifting his hands in peace. "I'm not here to hurt you. I don't even know where I am."
He offered her his hand.
The woman hesitated.
Her cheeks flushed.
And then—ding.
A glowing screen appeared in the air above her head.
[Romance System Activated]
Target Identified: Alara Vey, Amazonian Scout
Gray Heart(s) Detected: 5
Current Status: 1 Red
Power Unlocked: Wind Manipulation – Level 1
River stared in disbelief as the hearts hovered above her like a hologram from a sci-fi movie. He looked down at his hands.
And then he felt it.
Wind.
It stirred around him—responded to him. Threads of air wrapped around his fingers like invisible ribbon. The sand lifted slightly, swirling at his feet.
Power.
Real, living, magic.
And it had come not through training. Not through battle.
Through romance?
Through… a blush?
River's jaw dropped.
He didn't know what kind of world he'd been thrown into. Didn't know why this body had been left to rot. Didn't even know if he'd ever return home.
But he knew one thing:
He had just unlocked magic from a woman blushing.
And that was both insane and terrifying.
River's lips curled into a slow, disbelieving smile.
"…What the hell kind of system is this?"