I sat in my room, clutching the novel close to my chest as the sounds of mourning echoed from the hall and filled the house.
This was her favorite book.
I could still picture her lying on my bed at night, flipping through its pages while I stayed up late working on assignments. She'd squeal at the cringiest parts and then start reading them out loud to me.
"You should try reading this novel, brother! It's so amazing!" she'd nag over and over.
That was my younger sister, Alia- a sixteen-year-old girl who adored fantasy novels and isekai mangas, the kind you'd find popular in Korea or Japan but loved all over the world. She was one of those passionate fans.
Was.
Now, all I have left of her is this novel... and the memories.
The accident still didn't feel real. I couldn't understand how someone so full of life could suddenly be gone. As I sat there, still trying to get used to the sounds of my parents crying, my gaze drifted to the book.
Petals of Fate: A Noble Lady's Heart- a typical fantasy romance novel where a beautiful heroine with rare powers falls in love with many handsome male leads, all while a villain lurks in the background, only to be defeated by the final chapter. a classic happy ending.
"I really like stories with happy endings," she once said. "They give you hope that things will work out in the end."
Trying to move forward, I finally decided to read the novel she had always begged me to.
The next thing I remember, I was on the train to college, flipping the last page... when something hit my chest like a wave.
My heart stuttered. My vision blurred.
Then-nothing. Just darkness. A void.
Until-
"Look! The young master is waking up!"
My eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling, too bright and too elegant. Two strangers hovered over me, their faces lit with joy and tears.
"Young master, how are you feeling?" "Do you need anything?" "Where's the doctor?!"
Their voices overlapped in a whirlwind of concern.
I blinked at them in confusion, my body heavy, my mind foggy.
"Where...am I?" I asked. "Who are you people?"
Their smiles faltered. They looked at each other, whispering in hushed voices.
I looked down at my hands-pale, small, and far too delicate to be mine.
Then one of them asked me, carefully, "Master... don't you remember who you are? Aren't you Azure Windward, the son of Count Wilson Windward?"
Azure... Windward?
Wait... Who am I again?