Chapter 1: Moldy Cans and the Elf Prince
Jack always thought his worst luck was when he'd stand in front of a convenience store shelf, hesitating for three minutes, only to grab a carton of expired milk. But he'd never guessed his actual "end" would come from a can of moldy, expired fermented black beans with dace.
It was a June afternoon, and the air conditioner had been broken for three days. His apartment felt like a stuffy, airtight steamer. Jack slumped on the couch, scrolling through food delivery apps on his phone for half an hour, but couldn't find a single place with a minimum order under twenty yuan. The fridge was bare, save for a dusty glass jar in the corner—a can he'd brought from his hometown six months back. The label was swollen and smudged by moisture, but he could just make out the characters "fermented black beans with dace."
"Probably… still edible, right?" He shook the can, and a thick, sloshy sound came from inside. The rim was coated with a ring of greenish-black mold, like some gross moss. But hunger clawed at his stomach. He swallowed, grabbed a fruit knife, and pried off the lid.
A wave of stench—rotten and fishy—hit his nose. Jack held his breath on instinct. The fish inside had turned grayish-black; the beans were clumped together, crawling with thin white fuzz. He hesitated for two seconds, then, overcome by hunger, pinched his nose and scooped a tiny piece into his mouth.
The taste was indescribable—like swallowing expired stinky tofu mixed with ditch sludge. He tried to spit it out, but his throat erupted in searing pain, as if a thousand needles were piercing it. Then his stomach lurched, his vision blurred, and a buzz filled his ears. He struggled to crawl for his phone to call for help, but his head hit the carpet, and consciousness flooded away like a tide. His last thought: "Should've just ordered that thirty-yuan spicy hotpot…"
Cold.
A biting cold, not the stuffy heat from a broken AC, but a damp chill laced with the scent of plants.
Jack's consciousness felt like a stone at the bottom of a lake. He strained to push it upward. He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were glued shut. Faint sounds—like wind chimes and bird songs—reached his ears, mixed with low voices speaking a language he'd never heard.
"…His Highness's breathing is finally steady…"
"Thank the Leaf Goddess, he's pulled through…"
"But his hair… why has it changed like this?"
Hair? Jack muddled. His hair had always been a messy brown, hadn't it?
He suddenly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a dense cluster of glowing leaves—or wait, was that the ceiling? This wasn't his apartment with its yellowing wallpaper. Above him, vines and huge green leaves tangled together, and sunlight filtered through the gaps, casting dappled spots on the floor.
Beneath him was a bed padded with soft moss and feathers. Four carved silver pillars stood at the corners, wrapped in vines with pale purple flowers. The air smelled fresh, like crisp plants, mixed with a faint medicinal scent.
"Your Highness! You're awake?" A voice, surprised, rang out.
Jack turned. He saw a "person" in a green robe—or something not quite human. She had pointed ears, tipped with tiny green leaves. Her golden hair cascaded like a waterfall to her waist, and her eyes were pure emerald, like a summer lake.
"Hi… Highness?" Jack's throat was parched; his voice came out hoarse. "Who are you? Where is this? Shouldn't I be… uh, on my couch at home?"
As he spoke, he raised a hand to rub his eyes—and froze.
This wasn't his hand.
His own hands, from years of typing, had thick knuckles and a burn scar on the span from childhood. But this hand was pale, slender, with long fingers. The skin was as smooth as fine white jade, nails with a faint pink sheen. A silver vine bracelet circled the wrist.
"Your Highness, what nonsense are you talking?" The green-robed elf leaned in, worried, and reached to feel his forehead. "You've been unconscious for three days after falling into the water. Did you hit your head? This is the Life Tree Palace of the Elf Kingdom. I'm Ella, your handmaiden."
Elf Kingdom? Life Tree? Fell into the water?
Jack's head felt stuffed with a mess of threads. Strange memory fragments flooded in—dense forests, glowing flowers, tiny winged sprites, and a middle-aged elf with the same emerald eyes and silver hair, calling him "Legolas" softly.
Legolas… was that his name now?
He struggled to sit up, and Ella hurried to support him. He looked down at his body, clad in a silver silk robe, the fabric smoother than anything he'd felt. He lifted the covers—his legs, too, were pale and long, nothing like his own, which were dull from years of staying indoors.
"I…" Jack, no, Legolas now, swallowed. His throat tasted bitter. "I'm not Legolas. I'm Jack… just a regular guy. I ate a moldy can at home, and then… then everything went black."
Ella's face paled, her emerald eyes wide with alarm. "Your Highness, please… don't frighten me. You are Prince Legolas, the young prince of our Elf Kingdom, chosen guardian of the Leaf Goddess! Three days ago, you fell into the Lake of Life while practicing water magic. We searched all day before pulling you out…"
Lake of Life? Magic?
Legolas stared at his hand. He focused, trying to mimic the feeling from the memory fragments, thinking of "water." Sure enough, a clear water droplet formed in his palm, spinning and refracting rainbow light.
"Shit…" He couldn't help swearing. This wasn't a dream! He'd really transmigrated—into an elf prince!
Just then, the palace door creaked open. A tall elf stepped in, clad in silver armor etched with leaf and vine patterns. His silver hair was tied back, a faint scar on his face, and his gaze was sharp as an eagle. It was the Elf King, his father, Thranduil.
"Legolas, you're awake." Thranduil's voice was deep, with the authority of a king, but his eyes held concern. "How do you feel?"
Legolas looked at that face—strange yet familiar. Memories told him this king, though strict, loved him dearly. He opened his mouth, but swallowed the words "I'm Jack." Who would believe that? They'd probably lock him up as a madman, or feed him to forest wolves.
"I… I'm all right, Father." He copied the tone from his memories, trying to sound normal. "I just… can't remember much about before I fell into the water."
Thranduil's brow furrowed. He walked to the bed and pressed a hand to Legolas's shoulder. "Ella said you spoke some odd things. Is that true?"
"I…" Legolas hesitated, then decided to feign amnesia. "I had a long dream, I think. A strange place, no forests, no magic. Just tall stone houses, and something called a 'phone'…"
Thranduil fell silent, his emerald eyes flickering with complex emotions. "Perhaps the water element shocked your mind when you fell. It's all right—you'll recover. Rest now. Once you're stronger, I have important things to tell you."
He paused, his tone turning grave. "The orcs are stirring again."
Orcs?
Legolas's heart jolted. Memories flooded in—brutal creatures, tall, with gray-black skin, sharp fangs and claws, thriving on plunder and killing. A century ago, they'd invaded the Elf Kingdom and human lands, only to be driven back by a joint force. But they'd lingered in the northern Blackspine Mountains, never giving up on marching south.
"They're… attacking again?" Legolas's voice trembled. He, who'd once cowered from cockroaches, now faced bloodthirsty orcs?
"Only small skirmishes so far." Thranduil's voice was low. "But reports say the orc clans are gathering. Their leader is Grom, 'the Bloodtooth.' They say he's stronger than the orc king of a century ago. We must prepare."
He patted Legolas's shoulder. "You're the elf prince, future king. This time, you'll stand with me to defend our home."
Legolas met his father's gaze—expectant, heavy. He knew there was no turning back. From the moment he'd eaten that moldy can, his life had been rewritten.
"I understand, Father." He took a deep breath and clenched his fist. The water droplet in his palm shattered, spattering the silk sheets with tiny wet spots. "I will."
Thranduil nodded, then turned to Ella. "Take good care of his Highness. See he eats well and regains his strength." With that, he left, the cold of his armor lingering in the air.
Legolas lay back, staring at the swaying leaves above. His mind was a mess. He thought of his messy apartment, that cursed can, the unfinished ball game on his phone… things once ordinary, now unreachable.
"Your Highness, what would you like to eat?" Ella asked gently. "The kitchen has stewed spirit fruit porridge with Life Spring water—it'll help you recover."
"…Sure." Legolas mumbled. He was starving, a hunger deep in his soul.
Ella soon returned with a white jade bowl. Inside, pale green porridge steamed, sweet-smelling, dotted with ruby-red fruit. Legolas took a sip. A warm current flowed from his throat to his stomach, easing his fatigue.
"This porridge… it's good." He meant it.
"It's made with water from the Life Tree's roots, mixed with moonberries and starberries. Only the royal family gets to eat it." Ella smiled, her eyes crinkling like crescents.
As he ate, Legolas chatted with Ella, prying for more about this world. He learned the Elf Kingdom lay in the Western Eternal Forest. Elves, masters of archery and magic, lived for a thousand years—one of the oldest races on the continent. Humans dwelled in central plains and hills, building kingdoms. Short-lived but prolific, they excelled at forging and tactics. Orcs, trapped in the harsh, resource-poor Blackspine Mountains, lusted after the fertile south.
"A century ago, when the orcs invaded, elves and humans joined forces to push them back." Ella said, pride in her voice. "Your grandfather, the then Elf King, was friends with King Arthur of the humans."
"And now… how are relations with humans?" Legolas asked.
Ella's face dimmed. "Not good. After King Arthur died, humans split into kingdoms, fighting among themselves. They've grown distant. And… some humans resent our long lives, look down on us. Some elves, too, think humans are greedy and short-sighted, want nothing to do with them."
Legolas frowned. Uniting humans against the orcs wouldn't be easy.
After porridge, Legolas felt stronger. He asked Ella to help him up, wanting to walk the palace. The Life Tree Palace was built into a colossal ancient tree, its trunk so thick dozens of people couldn't wrap their arms around it. Walls and floors grew naturally from wood, carved with intricate patterns. Leaf-woven tapestries hung on the walls, depicting elven history.
He walked over to a window pushed open the vine-made shutters. Outside lay a lush forest. Tall trees soared to the sky, their trunks wrapped in glowing vines. Tiny sprites with transparent wings flitted through the air. A waterfall roared in the distance. The air was so fresh he couldn't help taking a deep breath.
"Beautiful…" he murmured. Compared to his city, with its car fumes and noise, this was paradise.
But he knew—beneath this beauty lurked the shadow of war. Orcs could strike anytime, and he, a "fake" elf prince, must stand and defend it.
"Your Highness, take it slow—don't overexert yourself." Ella hovered nearby, cautious.
Legolas nodded, but his mind raced. He needed to master this body's power, learn this world's rules. A宅男 he might be, but he'd read enough fantasy to know—strength mattered here. He had to learn elven archery and magic, or he'd be cannon fodder on the battlefield.
"Ella," he said. "Once I'm better, can you take me to the training grounds? I want to… practice archery and magic."
Ella blinked, then smiled. "Your Highness has finally come around? You used to hate training—Father had to nag you a dozen times before you'd go."
Legolas's cheeks heated. So the original had been a slacker. "Things change." He mumbled.
Just then, a clear birdcall sounded. A green-feathered bird landed on the windowsill, a small scroll in its beak. Ella hurried over, took the scroll, and read it. Her face paled.
"Your Highness, word from the front." She said. "Orcs from the Blackspine Mountains are moving toward the border. Around five thousand of them."
Legolas's heart sank.
The shadow of war loomed closer.