The ceiling was velvet and gold. The air was thick with perfume. He was lying in silk sheets in a body that wasn't his — a man's body. Thinner, colder.
A servant's voice broke through the haze:
> "Your Highness? Prince Aerith is awake—"
Han Jaein tried to sit up. The mirror across the room showed a stranger's face. Tall. Pale. Dark hair. Darker eyes.
A scar beneath the left eye.
The villain prince.
> "...No."
But it was already too late.
He had awakened in the story.
And this time, he would not let it end the way it had before.