even in our next life;

In fact, it starts to look even more vivid. There appears to be intricate carvings on the faraway marble— farther how your bedroom ceiling should be— and, after a few more seconds of regaining lucidity you realize that the white ceiling is rounded. You realize the stiff, coldness of the surface you’re laying. You realize that this is not your home.

The moment you shoot up from your state, you hear a creak and a slam.

“The—the Edlon! The Edlon has come!”

You’re unable to catch the a glimpse of the man who’d just made an expeditious retreat, but what’s more curious is the fact that the words he’d just spat out in shock and alarm sounded nothing that you’d recognize, and yet you understood what he had just said.

The Edlon. The outsider. A thought is starting to form in the back of your mind, and you don’t like it one bit.

Just as you’re about to investigate your surroundings, the sound of an echoing creak intercepts once more.

“So, it’s true.”

Light leaks in through a large door, casting the shadow of a figure onto the pale flooring. You look up and see a man.

“Praise the heavens! It has been decades. Welcome, dear Edlon. We have been waiting for you.”

The man sinks into a deep bow. You wince, trying to process the absurdity of this situation, and confirming the fact that you can indeed understand what he’s saying despite it sounding foreign to your ears. That dreaded thought you had shelved slowly starts to rise to the surface as you take in this strange man’s appearance. An older man. Possibly around his sixties, with long robes that match the length of his pale blonde hair, tied into various braids. Then you notice his ears. That same, stupid thought rips through the surface tension and becomes undeniably unignorable.

His ears. They’re pointed. Oh, boy.

See, you’re no stranger to fantastical books and media. You may be a corporate slave, but you have your hobbies. And that includes reading a bulk of the half-baked, mass-produced, B-rated isekai comics out there. But there are three things that are wrong about your situation from the get-go.

First, those stories usually start with the MC dying in some way or another in order to get transmigrated, but you definitely did not. You were not in the middle of the road and got hit by a truck. You did not get pushed off from the roof of your building. You just got out of the shower tucked yourself into bed the night prior.

Second, the MCs usually hate their existing lives. They’re either bullied, or down on their luck, or are generally in less favorable situations than in he fantasy haven that they’ve fallen into, allowing them to justify their not wanting to return back. But your life was good. More than good, for god’s sake. You’d just been promoted to team leader. You had a six figure salary. There’s no way in hell you’d give any of that up.

“My sincerest apologies, Edlon. You must be in great shock, but worry not. Everything will be explained.”

You sure hope it does, because the third thing is that the MCs are almost always transported into the last story they’d been reading. You haven’t touched anything of the like for the past four months because you’ve been grinding for your promotion. At the very least, this should be something you’ve read or played. But almost every single fantasy schlop has some seven-hundred year old elf sage to give lore dump on you. What in the world could this be?

“Excuse me.” You try out your voice for the first time. This otherworldly language feels foreign on your tongue, yet it seems like you’re speaking it automatically. “Are you…are you talking to me?”

The old elf smiles at your first attempt at communicating. “Yes.” You’re no stranger to choreographed pleasantries. You know a practiced smile when you see one because that’s been your default for years. “Please follow me.”

You nod and smile back, hoping he isn’t as perceptive as you are. But if he is, he doesn’t say a word about it as you slide off of the marble bed.

“Have you been awake for long?”

“Not really,” you answer honestly, looking around to see if there are any identifiable fantasy franchise motifs. You’re disappointed when you exit the large, thick doors only to find more white structures, the most notable being ionic pillars stretching far down to the other end of the building. There are other people scattered about— all with the same pointed ears, all dressed in similar robes, and all pretending to be occupied with something while sneaking glances at your direction. Some are threading long strips of fabric. Some are carrying basins and ferns. “A few minutes, at most.”

There’s a large fountain with a statue in the center obscuring your view of what’s on the other end. The statue appears to be a man, until your eyes scan down and notice that it’s been carved with the legs of a goat. It’s cradling a jug where the water seems to be pouring out of.

“That is Fennas,” he answers your unasked question. “Allow me to introduce myself, Edlon. I am Sun Hye, the head priest of this temple. We are in Lorien, a prosperous kingdom of elves and the feywild, and you are not of this world.”

Well, that was straightforward.

“You don’t look too surprised.”

“I figured as much when an elf started talking to me,” you say dryly, continuing to look around. “There aren’t any in my world, as far as I know.”

He takes your joke lightly and responds with a laugh. “Most Edlon aren’t usually this calm. They find it hard to believe and spend days, even weeks, in distress.”

“Most?” you clarify, turning towards him.

“Indeed,” he confirms. “You see, despite our kingdom being in relative peace and stability, there are forces beyond our control that try to ruin that. Beyond our walls, there are monstrosities and evils that are constantly waging war. Underneath the soil we come from, there are fiends who thrive on nothing more than chaos and ruin. We pray to Fennas for aid and intervention in order to keep our kingdom safe. And eight centuries ago, he sent the first Edlon to help in bringing salvation to our world.”

That was…a lot of information. You weren’t wrong about the info-dumping part. “How many have there been?”

“You seem to be digesting this quite easily,” he hums.

“I’ve ben told that I’m quite adaptable to stressful situations,” you say in return. “Your Holiness mentioned earlier that you’d been waiting for decades. How often does something like this happen?”

“Fennas grants when there is a need,” he says, as-a-matter-of-factly. “Lately, the peace of our kingdom is being threatened on different fronts. We are elves and we all have our innate magic, but things have gotten more precarious since the orcs have decided to move again, and there have been traces of fiendish energy in our forests, and—”

Sun Hye cuts himself off. He looks genuinely embarrassed catching himself about to fall in a ramble.

“My apologies,” he clears his throat. “I would tell you not to worry yourself about all this, Edlon, but I’m afraid your existence beckons otherwise.”

You fail to suppress an eyebrow twitch at that sentiment. You mask it with a quick, “I see. And, how exactly does…an Edlon do that?”

You’re not sure if Sun Hye has noticed, but you have no intention of following this batshit script. You’ll go along with it for now until you find a way to get back, and it’s probably not as simple as a half-goat half-man god answering some prayers, but you figure that questioning a religious fanatic’s beliefs won’t give you an answer. At the very least, he seems to be leased by your receptiveness.

“You many not feel it right now, but the moment you crossed the gate to our world, you were graced by Fennas’ power. The fact that you can communicate with us is one of those blessings.”

You hate to admit it, but in a fantasy world, that kind of logic makes sense.

“It’s different for every one, but you will be able to manifest Fennas’ power is some way or another,” he continues. “It will come to you as the situation requires. Would you like too give it a try?”

Well. Give it a try, huh? This is, quite frankly, an outright absurd situation, and all you want to do right now is gain enough information to get yourself out of it.

Information. A string of words come to you. It’s esoteric. It’s incomprehensible, almost alien. Yet you manage to utter it all the same.

Within that instant, you’re suddenly able to tell that there are seven creatures around you that are thinking.

You whip your head, noticing a boy in priestly garbs at the bottom of the staircase that leads down to the fountain pool. You catch him looking up to you, then immediately look away in either shame or sheepishness the moment your attention falls on him, and you continue hearing the muffle of sounds and thoughts emanating from him, and six other beings. One of which is the high priest standing before you.

He looks curious. Observant. You get a feeling that if you focus on him a little further, you can read more than just this garbled mush.

She’s picking up on it already.

Deeper.

Impressive. There’s so much more we can do now.

More.

I can tell you’re probing into my mind, Edlon.

“Ah.”

Your ears become clear again. You can no longer hear what he’s thinking.

“Sorry,” you say. “That was overwhelming. I didn’t even realize what I was doing.”

Overwhelming is an understatement. This is insane. If only you had this skill in the real world, you’d be raking in clients and soaring up the corporate ladder like a breeze. What a shame.

"I know that there are many things you’re curious about, Edlon. I’m here to answer all the questions that you have, and make sure you adjust well in Lorien. We have all night. There’s no need to rush.” He smiles. “If you need a moment to process things in private, or if you’d like a warm bath and a filling dinner, we can prepare your accommodations within a moment’s—”

“H-hight priest!”

A voice interrupts. You recognize it as the first voice you’d heard earlier.

“What is it?” Sun Hye asks, concerned at the sudden urgency. “Is something the matter?”

The elvish boy appears out of breath. He must have ran all the way here.

“The Crown Prince is here. They’re waiting outside the temple.”

Crown Prince. Oh, god. That’s a main character for sure. You notice a slight shift in the head priest’s expression at the utterance of that title, but you can’t quite catch the meaning. You don’t think you can pull the same trick as earlier again without being caught.

“I spoke too soon,” he says with a lace of disappointment. “News travels too quickly. I’m afraid I’d have to entertain your queries some other time, Edlon.”

“I understand.” You do want information. You want to know what the hell was that trick you pulled earlier. You want to know about the other people that got pulled into this before you and if there’s any way you can connect with them. But you’re also a little curious about the sudden entrance of this fantasy bigshot. You don’t know what kind of genre you’re in yet. For all you know, you could be in some sort of political, action-driven meat grinder of a story, but your role seems to be important regardless of the premise. And so is the Crown Prince of any nation. Maybe he’d be easier to prod than this suspicious, old elf.

Your curiosities are answered within just a few moments. The boy returns as an escort to two larger figures. Your attention falls first onto the one donning a golden circlet, as the other one falls back and remains by the foot of the stairs.

The moment he steps within ten feet of you, you’re suddenly washed by an aura of radiance.

“Your Royal Highness.”

Sun Hye sinks into a deep bow. You shuffle further behind him, compelled to do the same, but a bit more conservatively as you sneak a peek at his appearance.

The first thing you notice is his stature. He is tall. Taller than the high priest and his companion, made only more evident as he walks up the marble steps, and it’s almost imposing. Intricate pattens are embroidered on the bodice of his regalia, and a long dark cloak trails behind him. As your gaze traces up, you notice that there are, quite literally, sparkles floating around him. Your jaw nearly falls open the moment you reach his face.

“Your Holiness,” he speaks in a deep, rich voice. “I apologize for the intrusion this late at night.”

Needless to say, you’re probably never going to find any man attractive again when you return back home.

He’s handsome. There’s a distinct masculine charm that hardens his otherwise soft features. There’s not a single blemish sullying his pale skin, further brightened by his light hair and contrasting dark irises. Of course, you can’t miss the pointed elf ears.

“We are honored to have your presence in the temple, Your Highness.”

The prince turns to you.

“Edlon.”

He bows, catching you off guard.

“The Kingdom of Lorien is at your service.”

But no man this aesthetically gifted does not know of his own leverage. When he rises back up and offers a polite smile, you return with an equal amount of propriety, and you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you— rather, the way he isn’t. It’s more than just practiced pleasantry. It’s almost mechanical. Every nod and tilt is calculated. Each uttered gratification has an expectation. What he wants from you, you’re not quite certain yet. At the very least, you know that it has something to do with the tension spurred by his uninvited arrival, and the evident overcompensation from the high priest.

If you play your cards right, he could be your way out. Or he could be the noose that ties you down to this place forever.

“I’ve never met a prince before,” you start. “I’m not really sure how to respond to one bowing before me.”

There’s a flicker in his expression. Like you’d just shot a bare sliver into his practiced countenance, but he covers it up quickly with a charming laugh. “Please do not worry yourself about such trivialities, Edlon. Compared to your existence, a prince is nothing more than an ant.”

Man, he’s good. He’d do a wonderful job in sales.

“Your Highness,” Sun Hye interrupts. “Forgive my insolence, however, it has not been an hour since the seventh Edlon’s arrival. I believe it would be best for her to remain at the temple for the night. At the very least until she’s had everything explained to her, and has had enough time to process and understand everything.”

“Please don’t worry yourself, Your Holiness. I’m sure the temple is busy preparing for the midsummer feast as is. Allow us to take the burden off of your hands.”

This quite the interesting dynamic indeed.

You catch the apprehension on the head priest’s face, but he makes no objection. He sends you off with his best wishes and that the Temple of Fennas is always open for “our kingdom’s salvation.” You have no intention of fulfilling that role, and you sure hope that none of these elves end up noticing.

The prince offers an arm to assist you down the stairs. You realize just how stupid this picture looks at the same moment that you realize you’d been transmigrated while you were still in your pajamas. Neither he nor the head priest mentioned the impropriety of the frog patterns on your sleeves, though. The only problem is the fact that you’re barefoot.

“How may I address you?” he asks, escorting you down the steps.

“I thought you all called people like me Edlon,” you respond, wincing at the cold touch of the marble against your naked soles.

“That’s just a title,” he says. “Surely, you have a name that you call your own.”

Upon reaching the bottom of the flight, you take notice the second man that was ushered here. You meet his gaze. He greets you with an easy grin before falling back to walk a step behind the royal, allowing you to make an assumption on his social standing. He’s dressed a lot simpler— armored, with what appears to be a rapier on his hip. There’s less weight to the way he carries himself, especially when compared to his escort. More notably, he’s also pretty, almost fox-like with his delicate yet sharp features. You’ve definitely come across somewhere that elves are, by nature, charming and beguiling. It seems like that stereotype has carried over to this franchise as well.

You do end up giving your name. He nods. And then you reach the outside of the temple.

“Choi Soobin,” he informs. “You may call me Soobin.”

You blink at him, raising a brow. “Is it alright for me to call you by your first name? What if I end up on the gallows?”

“That would be blasphemous.” He seems to take your joke more seriously than you thought. “Like I said, my existence is nothing compared to yours, Edlon. I mean—”

He tries out your name, yet even that somehow feels like a surface-level attempt at displaying sincerity, at stringing together a connection. You say nothing at the moment, but kep it filed at the back of your head. The cold night’s breeze continues to assail you. Choi Soobin holds up a hand to his lips and initiates a whistle.

“Tori.”

It takes you a moment to realize what he’s doing. It’s only when a cloud of glowing mist and the distant sounds of clopping funneling through the night sky that you’re hit with the understanding that he’s summoning a steed out of thin air.

“The palace is quite far,” he says, brushing the mane of a beautiful white horse that had not been here just a second ago. It’s almost as dazzling as him, fine dusts of ephemeral glitter orbiting around them like a planet’s rings. He laughs a little when it neighs and nuzzles into him. “Tori will help us move swiftly through the night.”

It’s at this very moment that you can no longer deny the fact that you’re no longer in your own world. That it’s been far too long for this to be a fever dream. That the chill seeping in from the bottom of your feet is too vivid to brush off.

“Ah. One moment.”

Almost as if Tori could understand her master without speaking, she buckles down and lowers her height.

“What about your friend?”

You’re just about to throw a leg over the magic horse when you remember that the other elf is still hanging back there. You turn back meeting is gaze as he stops in the middle of a cross-body stretch. Unlike the prince who’s fully covered up with a cape on to of it all, his arms are bare, and the leather of his studded armor rides up ever so slightly when he rolls back his shoulders to stretch his arms overhead.

He flashes teeth. He winks. Choi Soobin clears his throat to reclaim your attention.

“Don’t worry about him. He can take care of himself,” he says. “Would you like me to assist you?”

You stare at the man, a subtle tug on your lips. “I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

The soft breeze brushes against your skin. With every bounce and every gallop of the steed, you can feel yourself bumping against the Soobin’s chest as you’re cages between the reins. This feels like it should be straight out of a fairytale shojo manga, but you don’t hear your Prince Charming’s heart attempting to make a break for it, and neither is yours. There’s something so, so tense about his manner— his politeness, his accommodation as he helps you down the horse with a tender touch, surrounded by a handful of knights and attendants all bending the knee to pay their respects upon their liege’s arrival.

“Your Highness.” One attended rises yet maintains her head down, turning to you. “E-edlon. It’s an honor to be graced by your presence.”

Whoa. You peer up to prince, fishing for a hint on how exactly you should respond to this. Instead, he takes it upon himself to answer for you. “Please escort the Edlon to her chambers.” The girl sputters an eager affirmation. Soobin smiles and turns to you. “Worry not. The palace’s scholars and myself are just as qualified as the high priest to answer all your concerns and curiosities. However, there things that I must attend to coinciding your arrival, so I must entreat you to retire for now.”

He poached you from the temple on the excuse that they’d be too busy to accommodate you. Yet upon closer inspection, the prince’s eyes are riddled with heavy bags, and even maintaining a smile seems to tax him.

“It’s alright, Your Highness. Thank you for the hospitality.”

“I will see you in the morning, Edlon. Good night.”

Well. There are a lot of curious things going on at once in this place called Lorien. But you don’t intend on staying long enough to find it all out.

*

You wake up to an unfamiliar ceiling yet again. It’s getting more ornate that the last.

“Did you rest comfortably last night?”

It seems like the prince is back to calling you by name again now that he’s dismissed all the servants and attendants. You watch him from across the lengthy dining table as he sips on a teacup, as composed and put together as you remembered him last night. He’s shrugged off the dark cloak today, instead donning a flowy, chiffon shirt with a keyhole under the collar. You have to admit: it’s such a shame that you’d eventually have to say goodbye to this view.

“Yes, thanks to you,” you answer, helping yourself to the hearty soup served before you. All the food seem to look familiar, but for all you know, you could be eating lizard meat, or something. You push back that thought and prepare yourself for business. That is, finding out more about the previous people in your current position, and where they are now. “There are a few thinngs hat I’m curious about, Your Highness.”

“I’m sure there are more than a few things,” he laughs. “I arranged this meal to answer them to the best of my abilities. If there’s anything I otherwise can’t, we can make a visit to the Mage Tower later in the day, or consult the Temple if need be.”

Mage Tower. Temple. Ugh. He’s just injecting more questions into your already overwhelmed brain. You inhale and maintain your demeanor, smiling a pleasant smile as retrace your actions that lead to you reading the High Priest’s mind last night.

A discreet whisper of foreign yet familiar tongues. The flick of your hand underneath the tablecloth. There are only two of you within in this room, but you sense the vague thoughts of exactly five other people beyond the thick doors.

You focus on the prince. You don’t miss the way his shoulders flinch the moment you do.

“What would you like to ask first?” he says out loud.

Divination. Damn it. You hear the same voice echo inside your head.

Huh.

You try to dig deeper, timing it the moment you ask your question—

“Sun Hye called me the seventh Edlon last night. What happened to the other six?”

—but you’re immediately snapped out of Choi Soobin’s mind, a flicker of panic on his face, but you’e unable to read anything further.

“Ah,” he starts, immediately regaining composure. “It has been twenty seven years since the sixth Edlon had passed. Unfortunately, I had not lived long enough to have met those who have come before her, but records say that they have all returned to dust, as all creatures of nature inveitably do.”

You can’t verify anything that he’s saying after getting kicked out from his brain. This isn’t going as you planned, and you’re not sure if you cna trust this flowery explanation after his prior weird reaction.

“I apologize for the insuffienct answer,” Soobin laments. “I have indeed worked with the late Edlon a few times in the past, but the Royal Family normally doesn’t work closely with them. It’s either the Tower, or the Temple, depending on the Edlon’s relationships entirely.”

You feel like if you attempt to pck his brain again, you’ll completely depleted of your energy. Tsk. So much for power. You have to make do with just your own gut feelings and your instincts for now.

“If that’s the case, then why did you poach me from the High Priest last night, Your Highness?”

But that doesn’t seem to be enough. If only your detect thought was still running, you’d be able to surmise exactly what that vague smile means.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Your Highness.”

An interruption.

“We received a message from the Eastern Wall.”

How conveniently placed.

“Come in.”

A familiar face enters, now dressed in more knightly garb. He cuts through the tension like a breeze, carrying the scent of the forest with him as he enters. He saves you a glance, a curt smile, and nod before reporting to the prince. “A band of ogres are attempting to raid one of the outer villages,” he starts. “The knights stationed there have managed to subdue their initial forces, but there seems to be an incoming second wave of attacks. They’re requesting reinforcements.”

There’s something weirdly practiced about his delivery.

“You can manage it quickly, hyung. Please take care of it.”

When Soobin turns to you after that response, you don’t need to read his mind to know what he’s thinking.

“Edlon,” he adresses. “This could be a good opportunity for you to try out your skills.”

It seems like you’ve hedged your bets on the wrong horse. You should have aligned yourself with the Temple instead of this suspicious bastard. Calling you in to entertain your questions, only to kick you out after barely answering one. You don’t want to drop the easygoing, go with the flow angle just yet. But you also don’t want to get tossed into what was just described as a literal battlefield.

“Don’t worry,” the one who introduced himself as Yeonjun assured with an easy grin. “I’ll make sure you won’t need to lift a finger, Edlon.”

Just like that, you’re ushered out of the private dining hall through the opposite wing of the palace, and you find yourself in a room with what appears to be four magic circles with unique sigils drawn in white chaalk on the dark ground. There are other elves in the chamber, three in total, and they all bend themselves over into a deep bow while stuttering out greetings and formalities. Unlike Yeonjun, who’s fully armored in studded leather, they all seem to be wearing long robes, stereotypical of how you’d imagine a wizard. You just smile uncomfortably, because that useless prince has yet to even brief you on how you should act.

“These circles are connected to all four sides of Lorien’s walls,” Yeonjun explains as he leads you further in. “We’re going to the Eastern Wall. It’s gonna take less than a second with these thingies.”

Thingies. At least this guy seems to be less uptight.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Should I be?” you breathe out. “Nobody has been telling me anything, so I’d appreciate a warning if this pentagram has a five per cent chance of evaporating me.”

You hear a faint gasp from someone nearby when you called the circle a pentagram. Whoops. Yeonjun just laughs, stepping into the circle on the right, and the patterned lines slowly start to luminisce in a din glow. “I can promise that nothing like that is gonna happen.” He reaches out a hand for you to take, inviting you in. You eye it hesitantly. “If you barf, I promise I won’t look.”

“That’s assuring.” You bite the bullet and take his hand. One of the elves mutter something under their breath the moment you do, and the dim stuttering light suddenly flashes brighter, consuming your entire vision.

You see nothing but white once more, but this time, you’re able to blnk it away.

“Whoa.”

A breeze carries your hair through the wind. You suddenly find yourself looking over a lush horizon of trees, several feet above the ground.

“Convenient, eh?” You hear Yeonjun from right beside you. “Those wizads can do stuff like this whenever they want. Makes me kinda jealous,” he says. “I’m sure you’d be able to do something like this too, once you get used to it. Chosen by Fennas, and all.”

You turn to him. “Not all of you are, like, magical?”

He laughs, leaning over the ledge of the stone wall. “Well, all elves can do like a little bit. Like this.” With the flick, a golden orb materializes in between where his two fingers met, and dissipates with a quick wave. “Seems like it’s gonna be sunny ‘til the morrow. It’d be a waste to spend it fighting all day.” It’s like he’s treating it as nothing more than a simple chore. Yeonjun stretches out his back with a yawn, peering over the ledge with his gaze fixed somewhere on the horizon. “Now, where are those guys?”

On cue, another pointy eared soldier jogs up from one end of the wall. “Sir! We’ve evacuated all the villagers and took care of the initial attackers, but another band of orcs and worgs are starting to close in.” Unlike those wizards from earlier, this one doesn’t greet you with the same amount of uncomfortable reverence, nor does he seem to recognize who you are, and what your deal is. He just regards you for less than a second, then turns to Yeonjun, who seems to be his superior.

“How many?” he asks.

“Around a dozen, sir.”

A freaking dozen? You walk closer to the edge and nearly stumble back at the sight. What once was a surreal, lush scene of nature and greenery is now replaced by what you can only describe as something straight out of a nightmare as you draw your gaze closer to the wall’s base.

There appears to be a village, somewhat ransacked, and becoming more and more dilapidated further down the edge. Beyond that you can see movement— two human-like figures, and three large dogs. The problem being, the humans don’t look like humans at all. Even from afar, they look ginormous. Their skin is greenish, with tusks sprouting out from their sneers. They’re both armed with heavy maces. They look like they can snap you in half. The “dogs” also don’t look like dogs. They tower over the two large humanoids. Their silver fur look like barbed wire, but they don’t cover the face and limbs, which are otherwise decorated with snarling teeth and sharp claws. Your heart races, eyes snapping to Yeonjun. “There is no way.”

All he does is flash a playful look at you. “Can you jump?”

“What?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Suddenly, he scoops you off the ground. You let out a yelp, clawing into the rough skin of his armor. “We’ll take care of the ones ahead,” he instructs the subordinate. “Flank the rest from behind. Let’s get this done quickly.”

“Understood.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you yell. “Are you trying to kill us both?!”

“Relax,” he says, propping a foot up the ledge and eyeing the bottom what appears to be thirty foot drop. Holy shit. He’s fucking insane. “You’re the most precious thing in the kingdom. They’d all let the walls crumble before letting you die.”

“I don’t feel very precious right now.” He fully takes a step up. You squeak, clutching him harder. “You’re not seriously jumping, are you?”

“Hold tight.”

The rush of wind shuts you up before you could let out a cry for your own demise. You squeeze your eyes shut, fearing that you won’t be able to open them again, but in line with a soft thud, the wind stops scraping against your skin.

“Told ya.”

Much to your surprise, you can still, in fact, open your eyes. And what greets you is the freckled face of the fox-eyed elf, grinning down at you.

“I promise I won’t let you die.”

The flicker of trust that starts to bloom immediately gets extinguished by the approaching thumps and tremors on the ground. Yeonjun carefully sets you down and hands you a dagger that he swiped from his belt. “You probably won’t have to use this, but just in case,” he says. “I know Soobin sent you here to tap into your powers from Fennas, or something, but you don’t have to do anything if it’s too much. Just stay back, and leave it to me.”

He smiles at you before turning his back. He starts walking ahead. When the two orcs come into view, you feel the air change.

The dagger sits heavy between your palms. Yeonjun breaks into a sprint as he charges at the one in front. With a lash of light, a rapier materializes in one of hands, the hilt stretching and wrapping like roots down his wrist. He lunges forward, thrusting the blade through the orc’s leather-like skin.

It pierces through. The orc rumbles out a roar of pain and as it does, Yeonjun pulls back and makes a second attack, slashing through the its shoulder chest as he uses the momentum to disarm it. He succeeds. The hulking thing’s mace drops onto the now blood splattered ground.

He looks over his shoulder to meet your eyes. He grins.

You’re not sure how to feel, especially when the orc he just nearly decimated attempts to grapple him while distracted, and the second orc comes barrelling into the fray.

“It’s not dead yet, idiot! Look out!”

You warn him just in time for him to dodge the still armed orc’s attempt bludgeon him with the spiked ball straight down. He nimbly slips past the grapple attempt of the other. You feel like you’re about to get a heart attack watching this scene.

Unfortunately, neither you nor him can get to rest yet. The worgs start to catch up. Two charge at Yeonjun. They manage to bite and nick at arms as he tries to block them. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight, then you remember there are supposed to be three.

Three. Two are trying to rip Yeonjun apart. You snap your head to the side. One is running straight at you.

“Edlon!”

You let out a gasp. A searing white pain overtakes you. Eyes wide, you look down to see your torso slashed with red, the same color glinting the tips of the creatures claws. You feel lightheaded. You feel dizzy. You’re going to fucking die.

Suddenly, a crackle of lightning flashes through the gashes of your wounds.

An arc of light bursts out, and your vision is blinded by white. You hear the whimper of a dog. The buzz of electricity. And a thud on the ground.

When you regain your sight, you no longer see the slobbering maw of a beast attempting to devour you. Instead, what lays before your feet is now a burnt mound of fur, twitching on its side.

“Holy crap.”

Your eyes snap up, frantically looking for Yeonjun. When you see him, he’s still in the middle of trying to fend for himself, but his gaze is completely fixed on you in awe. “Did…did I do that…?”

“That was crazy,” he says, almost forgetting that he currently has four foes on his back. “It seems like you can take care of yourself after all, Edlon.”

You can’t get hit again. This hurt like a bitch, you think, and the crackle of lighting still buzzing from your fingertips slowly gets overtaken by a protective cold as you wince and feel your own sticky blood on your hands, almost as if some otherworldly power is responding to your instincts. Is this what they meant by Fennas’ blessing? Is that what you’re wielding right now? You don’t fully understand it yet, but there’s one thing that you know for sure.

You cannot die here. You absolutely cannot.

A sudden chill overtakes you. Your own skin feels cold to the touch. Rather than threatening, it instead feels protective.

“Don’t push yourself too hard!” You hear him yell from thirty feet away before turning back, releasing a grunt as he makes a counterattack against the two orcs in one swing.

Two slashes. The first orc wails and falls to the ground. The second raises its bloodied arm and tries to smash down Yeonjun’s face with its mace. He manages to swerve past the attack with only a minor graze to the shoulder, racing fifteen feet further away, in an attempt to lure the remaining three away from you.

His tactic seems to work. One of the worgs lets out a howl, and they all chase after him. You bite your lip. There’s got to be something you could do. Something. The two mutts growl and try to pounce him with bared teeth, covering your view. But you hear the sound of a pained garble amidst the snarls of the large beasts.

“Yeonjun!”

The same crackle of energy surges from the ground the moment you take a step closer. You hear a whimper and a thud, burning another worg to an crisp. Yeonjun takes your aid as as an opening to stab the rapier into the orc’s stomach. It lets out a a roar in squelching pain. Yeonjun draws it back to make another strike. And another. The orc falls. The remaining worg attempts to throttle him to the ground, jaws wide open. He manages to leap back before the creature can lunge at him, thrusting his sabre into the beast’s mouth, and it makes a painful choking noise as it stiffens, buckling into a pool of its own blood.

You hear a series of thumps in rapid succession quickly approach. It’s only when you feel Yeonjun swoop in to catch you like a net that you notice the fact that all your energy has been sucked dry, and you barely have the strength to remain standing.

“Whew. That was a close one.”

You look up, eyes barely focused, and if you hadn’t just witnessed what happened prior, you’d almost believe that this guy was left unscathed.

“You good?” he asks, fixing you upright. “Don’t worry. The wizards back at the palace have all sorts of healing magic. They’ll fix you up in no time.”

You wince, noticing the blood all over your borrowed, now tattered and bloodied, garbs once again. You were made for a desk job. Not whatever this is. And with a mildly annoyed grunt, you say, “Can’t you do it yourself?”

You’re too caught up in your own misfortune to clock his expression when he replies with a soft chuckle, “Sorry to disappoint.”

POST SESSION NOTES. whewww this took me far longer than i expected HAHA this is not actually written in one session because i underestimated how long it would actually take to interpret my rolls and barf them out into semi-literate narration.

BUT this was definitely wayyy more fun than i expected. if you aren’t a ttrpg loser like me, this would be harder to appreciate and enjoy, but i’m having fun so who cares HAHHAHAHAHAHA. soob failed so many perception and insight checks i was so disappointed in him 😔😔😔like i’m trying to give you romance openings here sir….LOOK this way OPEN your damn EYES.

alas….he stays in character BWAHAHA. running combat as also pretty damn stressful, but also the most fun, so i’m probably gonna insert that as much as i can even if it kills me and/or the boys. i don’t calls the shots here. the dice do. if any of you guys are curious as to how some decisions were made or as to how my rolls influenced the scenes, feel free to ask mwehe.

i’d also love to share their character sheets or stats!! they are definitely not optimized at all and they will most likely change as they level up HAHA but some you might find it inch resting hehehe.

off to roll some more dice and make bad choices. lmk if you wanna be tagged, and tysm for reading! <3

i transmigrated into a fantasy world that doesn’t exist. © hannie-dul-set, 2026.

“jaemin-ssi! lunch!”

“coming.”

working in HR for the past year and a half, he’s talked to, engaged with, and done business with most of the departments at the company. he’s read through every employee’s name at least once (at least those during his tenure), yet there’s one group of people that he’s yet to mingle with.

a loud whir suddenly zooms past behind him and his team at the cafeteria.

from the corner of his eyes, he sees the brief flash of bright, electric blue bouncing along in loud conversations, cameras and tripods in tow, and every other employee steering clear from their general direction.

it’s the marketing team, he hums to himself with a sip of coffee. no interactions. no intersections. simply co-existence, and he’d prefer it no other way.

until, that same afternoon, in his muted, neutral toned office, he finds himself sitting in front of you.

you, in an electric blue and black spotted blazer. you, in ombre space buns and pitch black, rounded sunglasses staring straight into his soul all while preventing him from making polite eye contact as you press your gold bejewelled hands over his desk, leaning forward. you, who had just caused him to flinch back because he thought you were about to leap over and stick your tongue down his throat when you jutted your face closer to his to get a better look of him.

not that the image of it crossed his mind.

he can’t even see your damned eyes and how they’re staring him down right now.

focus, jaemin. focus.

“hi, you requested a meeting…?”

everything about your appearance is screaming at his instincts— warning. warning. do not approach. do not approach. danger. danger. but he’s cornered by his job description to address you and deal with, well, whatever your deal is.

“how may i help you?”

“wow. they were right.”

“i’m sorry?”

suddenly, you jerk yourself back, dropping down to the swivel chair you completely ignored upon first entering, and stick an arm out for a handshake as you tip down your shades with your other hand, revealing a pair of eager eyes.

“hi! i’m the new hire from social media team.” he tentatively eyes your outstretched arm. he just barely pushes his hand out when you immediately snatch it with a firm shake. “i look forward to working with you.”

jaemin gulps, feeling a long line of sweat crawling down the back of his neck. the skin of his hands is pressed down to the bone by the cold metal and chains adorning your fingers and knuckles.

“i’m producing a new content series to promote the company,” you start, and jaemin’s practiced smile stiffens almost immediately. “my supervisor told me that there’s someone from HR that would be perfect for the job.”

in na jaemin’s perfectly serene, perfectly beige office sits someone who sticks out like a sore thumb.