Chapter 1: The Book That Shouldn't Exist
The classroom was nearly empty.
Golden light from the setting sun filtered through dusty windows, casting quiet shadows over old desks and forgotten dreams. Graduation had ended hours ago. The halls were filled with echoes of goodbyes and freedom — students rushing off with rolled-up diplomas, laughter, and arms full of flowers.
But Han Jaein remained.
He wasn't sentimental. He just didn't like chaos. So he offered to stay behind and help tidy up the literature department's seminar room — his favorite place during university, and the one no one ever properly cleaned.
He moved between chairs slowly, collecting abandoned flyers and torn pages, until his hand paused on something thick, leather-bound, and far too heavy for a student's novel.
It sat wedged beneath the last desk, spine faded, no title. When he touched it, it felt oddly cold — like stone left in winter snow. Curious, he knelt and opened it.
There were no publication details, no foreword. Just the first line:
> "The world was supposed to love her. But it was he, the villain prince, who loved first."
Jaein blinked. A chill passed through him.
He turned the page.
Names he didn't know spilled into his mind like déjà vu: Seraphina, Lucien, Elias, Calix... Prince Aerith.
He knew this plot — or thought he did. A love story. One girl, four suitors: the noble healer, the brave knight, two princes torn by blood and ambition. And in the middle, the villain: the adopted first prince, cruel, brilliant, and doomed to die.
The others would suffer. The healer would lose his life. The knight would fall. The country would rot.
All because of Aerith.
But Jaein wasn't disturbed by the story. What disturbed him were the margins.
There were notes. Scribbled in red ink.
> "What if he didn't want the throne?" "What if he saved the knight?" "What if he chose the other prince instead?"
Jaein turned another page. Then another. Then another.
Until the words began to blur, and the sunlight grew colder. Until the room began to spin. Until he collapsed over the desk, the book cradled in his arms.
And when he opened his eyes again—
He was no longer Han Jaein. He was no longer in a classroom.