---
When everything in life starts going too well, don't think of it as good luck.
It's just fate giving you a warning.
You're about to get fucked. Very badly.
My name is Luke Robinson, twenty-six years old, employee at a multinational company.
And for the past two weeks, everything had been going suspiciously perfect.
I got promoted—from a normal employee to a manager.
I won a racing bike worth $25,000, with three years of free servicing, from a lucky draw I didn't even remember participating in.
And lastly—
I finally managed to break up with my girlfriend.
At the time, I didn't know it would be the biggest mistake of my life.
She was an obsessive bitch.
The kind who screamed "I won't let you dump me!" while chasing you around her apartment.
The reason I was running?
She was throwing knives at me.
---
Three days later.
I had a date.
With my team leader.
She was smoking hot.
"Anyway, let's not keep the lady waiting," I thought as I exited my apartment and stepped into the elevator.
Inside stood the old lady next door, holding her dogs on a leash.
"Hello," I greeted her with a smile.
"Hello, young man," she replied, eyes glinting playfully. "Going on a date?"
She had that warm grandmother vibe, so I smiled back.
"Yes."
We talked for a while before the elevator reached the parking floor.
I started my bike and rode off.
That's when I noticed it.
A small yellow car.
Following me.
For too long.
My heart sank when I saw the number plate.
"…Shit."
Why is she following me?
It was my ex's car.
A terrifying thought crossed my mind.
Is my phone tapped?
I twisted the accelerator—
CRASH!
The car slammed into my bike.
My body flew.
Twenty meters.
Pain detonated across my body.
"Ah—fuck!"
I lay there, gasping.
What does she want now?!
"Aaaaaah!"
Pain finally flooded in.
"S-s-she's going to ki-kill me…"
Through the cracked visor of my helmet, I saw her.
Running toward me.
Tears streaming down her face.
Why are YOU crying? You're the one who hit me!
Then I saw it.
The knife in her hand.
Long. Heavy.
Like something a movie villain would treasure.
She looked unreal.
Like a character straight out of a Korean thriller.
Which made sense.
She was Korean.
Kim Minhee.
Panic strangled my chest.
"W-wait! S-stay away!"
I tried to run.
All I could do was crawl.
My left leg was almost torn apart, but I felt nothing.
Fear drowned out everything.
She stopped in front of me.
Didn't say a word.
Just sobbed.
Like she was standing at my funeral.
I looked up at her, forcing a weak smile, sweat pouring down my forehead.
Then—
"Hahaha…"
A hollow laugh escaped her lips.
My blood ran cold.
Without hesitation—
She stabbed herself in the stomach.
"…What the fuck?"
She twisted the knife.
Then—
She shoved it straight into my heart.
"This heart," she whispered as she collapsed onto me,
"will only be mine."
Warm blood soaked my chest.
I held my killer ex-girlfriend as my vision darkened.
What the actual fuck…
My consciousness faded.
---
Before He Woke Up
Kiara's POV
It had been two years.
Two years of silence.
Two years of watching Ed von Livingston lie motionless in his bed.
The head maid scolded me again that morning—said I hadn't done the gardening properly.
She didn't know.
Or maybe she didn't care.
I spent that time preparing his medicine instead.
The tonic.
The same one he had been drinking for two years.
The same one that hadn't woken him.
This medicine feels like a lie, I thought bitterly.
Still, I fed it to him carefully.
I sat beside his bed, watching his chest rise and fall.
He looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
I remembered when he used to talk to me.
Laugh with me.
Trust me.
I'm sorry, I wanted to say.
But my voice had been taken from me.
The day he collapsed.
A price.
A punishment.
Books filled his room—history, magic theory, theology.
I picked one up.
A History of the Church — 900 Years Ago.
I began to read.
Then—
"Wa… wa…"
The book slipped from my hands.
I froze.
Ed's fingers twitched.
His lips moved.
He was awake.
Tears flooded my eyes.
I rushed forward and hugged him tightly, shaking, as if afraid he would disappear again.
You're back…
"Wa…ter…"
I nodded frantically and helped him drink.
Then his body stiffened.
His eyes lost focus.
He collapsed back onto the bed.
Panic consumed me.
I ran.
I called for help without a voice.
Because I knew—
The reason he had fallen into a coma…
Was finally awakening too.
---
Reincarnation
Darkness.
Then light.
…Where am I?
My eyes opened slowly.
The room was unfamiliar.
Too elegant.
Too medieval.
Definitely not a hospital.
I tried to move.
My body felt smaller.
Weaker.
"Young master!"
A maid in uniform rushed toward me with tears in her eyes.
"Young master—!"
My head throbbed.
Memories clashed.
Blood.
A knife.
Death.
Then—
Another set of memories surfaced.
A noble house.
Magic lessons.
A sixteen-year-old boy.
Ed von Livingston.
…So that's it.
I didn't survive.
I reincarnated.
In a world of swords and magic.
Into the body of a boy who had been in a coma for two years.
And whatever had put Ed von Livingston to sleep—
Was far more dangerous
than my psycho ex-girlfriend.
---