Xiao Yu opened his eyes to nothingness.
Literal nothingness.
A vast, glowing white space stretched endlessly in every direction, silent and sterile like he'd woken up inside a blank sheet of paper. There was no sky, no ground—just pure white, like reality itself had been wiped clean.
He blinked. "What the hell…"
And then—pop!
Particles shimmered into existence right in front of him, swirling into shape until they formed… a floating white fluff ball. It had oversized ears, stubby limbs, and sparkly eyes way too big for its tiny face. Somewhere between a plush toy and a marshmallow.
"Oh no…" the puffball muttered.
"Excuse me—what?" Xiao Yu said, squinting.
The fluff ball looked up at him.
Paused.
Then vanished with a puff of smoke.
"…The fuck?"
Xiao Yu stared at the empty space where it had been. This had to be a dream. A really weird, post-fanboy-high dream. He pinched his cheek hard. "Ow!"
Still here.
Still white void.
"Shit, I have to call Zhao Chen," he muttered, patting his pants pockets frantically. "Phone, phone, where's my phone—!"
Nothing.
No pockets. No phone. No clothes, technically—just some soft glowing tunic thing that screamed "spiritual plane aesthetic."
His skin went pale. "Oh no. Oh no no no no—"
"Physical items don't exist in this world," a voice said calmly behind him.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
Xiao Yu spun around and let out a second scream.
Floating a few feet above the ground was a child—maybe ten years old, with skin as pale as snow and hair so white it shimmered like starlight. They wore a long, celestial robe that fluttered without wind, eyes like silver glass that looked way too calm for someone so tiny.
They blinked at him. "Why are you screaming?"
"WHY AM I—?! Where am I?! What are you?! What is happening?!"
The child tilted their head. "So dramatic…"
You might be wondering—who was that child, and where did he come from?
Let's rewind.
Back to the moment the arrow was shot.
The white fluff ball had released the shimmering arrow, and the instant it vanished into its target, so did the ball itself—popping out of the mortal realm like it had never existed.
It reappeared in a strange place—a dimension filled with floating fluff balls of every color, drifting lazily like jellyfish in space. Massive glowing screens hovered in the air, showing countless worlds and timelines unraveling in real-time.
"I shot him," the white ball said with a yawn.
As he floated downward, his form shimmered—morphing into a young boy with silver hair, moonlight-colored eyes, and a celestial white robe. Still barefoot. Still smug.
"Shiroi, you're back already?" a red fluff ball floated up beside him, voice sharp and suspicious.
"Yup. Just waiting for my host to wake up," Shiroi said, stretching as he drifted over to one of the screens.
Akai, the red ball, narrowed its eyes. "You're so lax for someone whose mission decides Master's fate. Do you understand what's at stake?"
"I know, I know," Shiroi muttered, waving a hand. "But Master's wife is probably just asleep or something. I'll check in later."
Akai gave a low growl, muttering something about irresponsible white balls as Shiroi curled into a soft glow and slipped into hibernation.
When Shiroi opened his eyes again, he returned to the white space to check on the newly marked host.
And then—he froze.
His silvery eyes went wide.
"Oh no."
He'd made a mistake.
A big one.
Akai was never going to let him hear the end of it.
Before the boy in the white space could speak, Shiroi panicked, waved his hands in the air, and poofed out of existence like nothing happened.
"Akai!"
Shiroi burst into the control room, glowing slightly from his hasty return. Screens flickered overhead, monitoring hundreds of timelines like streams of code written by fate itself.
"Akaiii!" he called again, voice more urgent.
A red fluff ball zipped into view, vibrating with barely contained rage.
"You!" Akai hissed. "I told you to take this seriously! And now you've gone and shot the wrong target?! Are you out of your cloud-brained mind?!"
Shiroi winced. "Okay, yes, but—"
"Do you even realize the gravity of what you've done?!" Akai raged, floating in rapid angry circles. "Because of your screw-up, Master and his wife might never reunite! That soul—his wife's soul—was supposed to go through the trial worlds, not some... random civilian!"
Shiroi exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "...Well. Now that the damage is done, Akai, how do we fix this?"
He wasn't panicking. Not even a little. In fact—he sounded calm. Almost too calm.
Because deep down, Shiroi had always questioned Master's chosen "beloved." And it seemed—even the gods weren't in favor.
Akai hovered in place, stunned silent for a moment. Then—sigh.
"Just go back and see it through," he muttered. "We swore our allegiance to the one who created us—not to his wife."
He turned to face the glowing control panels again, watching timelines flutter like paper in the wind.
"Make sure the boy clears every world. And bring back Master's soul."
Shiroi smirked. "Copy that."
He vanished in a pulse of white light.
And with that…
We're finally caught up to the present.
Xiao Yu looked around at the blinding white space, eyebrows furrowed.
There was nothing. Just endless white—no sky, no floor, no walls.
"What is this place…? Am I dead?" he asked, voice uncertain.
The last thing he remembered was Zhao Chen counting down, the beat of his favorite K-pop song, and then—darkness. Now this.
A strange figure floated into view—small, pale, and glowing softly like a plushie lit from the inside.
The boyish creature had snow-white hair, a porcelain face, large silver eyes, and a small, unreadable smile. He hovered effortlessly, his feet not even pretending to touch the ground.
"You're not dead," the figure said matter-of-factly. "You're in a transitional dimension—Limbo."
He waved a stubby hand. "Welcome."
Xiao Yu stared.
"Limbo? Sounds like the name of a shady nightclub."
He squinted. "And who the hell are you? And why is a floating toddler talking like he pays taxes?"
The boy sighed as if deeply offended. "First of all, I'm not a toddler. I'm Shiroi. Second, I'm older than your entire bloodline. Third, I don't pay taxes—I collect them."
Xiao Yu blinked.
Shiroi floated closer, his expression unimpressed. "Listen, I don't have time to unpack your emotional damage. I'm here because I need your help."
"My help?" Xiao Yu repeated. "Are you lost, little ghost? Need me to find your mom?"
"Gods," Shiroi muttered. "They really did give me the most dramatic idiot."
He folded his tiny arms and took a breath. "Let me explain in simple terms. This space is Limbo—between life and death. You, Xiao Yu, are here because you've been… rerouted."
"Rerouted?! I was filming for my CaoCao fans! I was about to trend again!" Xiao Yu shouted, throwing his hands up. "You better fix this, or I swear—"
BEEP.
A loud chime echoed through the white void. Shiroi looked over his shoulder toward nothing in particular, eyes narrowing.
"Hmph. Would you look at that," he said under his breath. "The first world's ready. Guess there's no time for full briefing."
Xiao Yu froze. "Wait—what world?! What's going on?! I didn't agree to anything!"
"Too late," Shiroi said with a little smirk. "Try to stay alive, Pretty Pink."
He raised his hand, and the void around Xiao Yu began to flicker like a broken TV screen.
"HEY—DON'T YOU DARE—!!"
Darkness swallowed him before the words could leave his mouth.