Chapter Text
There were nights when she could almost hear him. The steady, measured tone of his voice; the faint cadence of that refined Nalchik accent; the way he would call her name—softly at first, then firmer, as though testing if she would look up from the desk scattered with documents and tea-stained papers. But when she did, when she would glance instinctively toward the empty corner of her dim apartment, there was nothing there. Only the hum of her refrigerator, the distant chatter from the neighboring unit, and the faint echo of her own heartbeat.
Two years. It had been two full years since she returned from that world—the world inside “Crimson Blossoms Under the Nalchik Sun”, the romance novel she once mockingly reviewed online for its predictable love triangle and exaggerated noble politics. Two years since she woke up in her real body, sweating and crying, clutching her phone like it might still connect her to the system that sent her there. She thought she’d never stop missing it. The cobblestone courtyards, the smell of lavender fields outside the Li Estate, the afternoon light spilling through tall arched windows where she used to sit—reading reports beside a man who terrified and fascinated her all at once.
“Zayne Li” “Li Shen”
The name alone could silence her thoughts.
He was a duke in the novel—a cold and distant man, the Empire’s most formidable strategist, and one of the eligible bachelors in the original story. His reputation was both revered and feared. The noble houses called him “The Duke of Iron Vows,” a man loyal only to the crown, unmoved by flattery or temptation. But (Name) remembered him differently. She remembered the quiet patience behind his every gesture, the subtle tremor in his voice whenever he said her name, and the rare moments when his stoic mask faltered, revealing something heartbreakingly human.
She had never meant to get involved with him that way. After all, when she first arrived in that world—her soul flung into the fragile body of Zayne’s nameless fiancée—her only goal was to finish the mission and go home. The system that appeared before her was mercilessly clear:
> “Assist Duke Li Shen in successfully forming a relationship with the female lead,. Completion of the narrative arc is required for your return”
Lady MC—the perfect heroine. Kind, beautiful, adored by the Emperor himself. The woman every suitor in the capital admired. Zayne, in the novel, had harbored feelings for her for years, though he never dared to act upon them. The tragic part, as written, was that his unspoken love eventually drove his fiancé mad with jealousy, leading to her demise in a secluded manor. But (Name) changed that fate. When she took over, she didn’t waste time crying over a scripted heartbreak. Instead, she approached Zayne directly, proposing a deal.
“I’ll help you win her heart,” she said to him on that first night in his study, her voice trembling but steady. “In exchange, you’ll let me go when this is over.”
He studied her for a long moment, gray eyes unreadable beneath the flickering candlelight. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a single nod. And so began their unlikely partnership.
They attended court banquets together, orchestrated coincidental encounters between Zayne and Lady MC, and even rehearsed conversations late into the night so Zayne could “sound less intimidating.” (Name) laughed more during those evenings than she ever had in her own world. She watched him grow flustered at small things, like when MC smiled politely at him or when (Name) teased him for being hopeless at small talk. What she didn’t notice—what she refused to see—was the way Zayne began to look at her instead.
There were moments she should have realized. The time she fell asleep over strategy notes and woke to find him draping his coat over her shoulders. The way he’d pause mid-sentence whenever she smiled. The way his hand brushed hers when they stood too close at the ballroom balcony. But she dismissed it all as nothing. She couldn’t afford to think otherwise. Not when her freedom depended on fulfilling the mission.
Yet, despite her resolve, a tiny seed of longing took root inside her. Every time she saw him smile at Lady MC, her chest tightened. Every time he praised MC’s grace, she felt a bitter pang she didn’t know how to name. And when he looked at her, not as a fiancé by title, but as someone who mattered, she found herself wanting time to stop. The end came faster than she expected.
The grand masquerade ball at the Imperial Palace was supposed to be Zayne’s final chance. Everything had been planned—the music, the lighting, even MC’s favorite waltz. (Name) had stood at the edge of the ballroom, her heart hammering as she watched Zayne approach the lady of his dreams. She told herself she’d smile when it was done. That she’d finally be able to return home and move on. But he hesitated. He looked at MC for a moment, then turned his gaze elsewhere—toward (Name). Their eyes met. In that single heartbeat, she saw everything she tried to ignore reflected back at her: confusion, tenderness, and something that looked too much like love.
She mouthed, “go on”, but he didn’t move.
When MC was swept away by another suitor, (Name) forced a laugh, but it came out hollow. Later that night, she confronted him in the courtyard under the cold moonlight.
“All our work—everything we’ve done—was for this moment!” she shouted, her hands trembling. “Why didn’t you just say it, Zayne? Why did you freeze like that?”
He didn’t answer at first. His eyes were shadowed, and for the first time, he looked lost.
“Because,” he said quietly, “I realized too late that I no longer wish to win her heart.”
The air froze between them. (Name) felt her chest tighten, her throat burn with words she couldn’t say.
“You’re lying,” she whispered, forcing a bitter smile. “Don’t say things like that just because you feel guilty.”
He took a step closer, but she stepped back.
“Then tell me,” he murmured, voice breaking, “why does it hurt to see you cry?”
She wanted to scream, to laugh, to cry—but before she could, the familiar chime of the system echoed in her mind.
> “Mission completed. Congratulations, Host.“
Her breath caught. “Wait—what? But he hasn’t—!”
The words never finished. Her body began to glow, faintly at first, then violently bright. Zayne’s eyes widened in horror as her outline blurred, her form turning to dust before his eyes.
“(Name)!”
His voice cracked as he reached for her, but his hand passed through empty air. The last thing she saw was his face—pale, terrified, and heartbreakingly human as the world dissolved around her. When she woke again, she was back in her small apartment, the system’s voice fading into static.
Two years had passed since then. She told herself she’d moved on, resumed her work, paid her bills, laughed with friends. But every time she closed her eyes, she still saw him standing there—reaching for her in the moonlight that night, his lips shaping her name as though it could keep her from disappearing. No matter how much she tried to forget, some part of her heart never truly returned.