manitscold

[manitscold]

Yan! Dion Agriche x fem! Reader

Reader from a small town. It's in the works (knight otome Xiao fic is almost done I promise it's just that I have way more inspiration for Dion). Full fic of this will (hopefully) be posted soon. But for now have horny Dion.

Tw: possessive thoughts, thoughts of violence/murder, mention of blood.

NSFW tw: perverted thoughts (Dion), mention/implied vaginal sex, talk of virginity, implication that Dion wants oral, high key sexually frustrated Dion

Minors/blank blogs (no posts) dni

===

Writing Dion as a man who doesn't understand the appeal of sex only to feel the throbbing of his cock whenever he sees you... Or rather, the slip of the sleeve of your nightgown, or how your cleavage showed under the low cut of the soft fabric, under the impression he's not interested.

In the beginning he wasn't.

But the longer, the more he got to know you, the more he realized that maybe, there was an appeal to it after all.

Or rather, an appeal to you.

But then, under the moonlight, he remembers how the townsfolk expects you to marry someone else. And that alone would mean you would sleep with a man who's not him.

He could care less if you were currently a virgin or not - he didn't know you then. But he knows you know. And because he knows you now means he owns you. Which means you shouldn't - you're not going to have sex with anyone who's not him.

So, as you complain about about the expectations placed on you regarding marriage, Dion can't help but imagine killing off any potential rivals. His sword soaked in his blood, he wonders how you would react. Would you cry and scream? Even if you didn't like him to begin with?

Ah. Right. That guy probably has wet dreams about you. Excited for the day where you would tie the knot and spend the wedding night in his bed. Finally able to see your naked form, the curves, feel how tight and warm and wet you would be, hear your whimpers and moans, your lewd expressions -

"Hey. You okay?"

He jolts. Dion never jolts, but then again, you've been making him do a lot of things he's never done before. He blinks, nodding his head - he doesn't trust his voice. Especially since your lips look kissable, and the way they're ajar isn't helping... He wants to to bite them. Kiss them. Make you gag around his -

For the rest of the night, the man that's known as Dion Agriche has to resist two urges -

The urge to take you and

The urge to find the bastard who's interested in you and smash his head on the nearest rock, staining the ground with his blood. Decapitate his head and show it to your parents, since that man's were against the entire thing to begin with. Mark you as his in front of that man, watching with glee as that fool can't do anything but watch as Dion sinks his teeth into your neck. Of course, Dion would never have sex with you in front of other men, even if they're just corpses.

But, he would kill them in front of you. To get a reaction. To show that hey, he's decent material, right? After all, he got rid of the pest in your life.

[manitscold]

"Lovely outfit you're wearing today. Meting someone?" I - Phainon from HSR

character interactions - closed.

His words made you stop in your tracks as the door squeaked open, its old wooden hinges nearly ancient because who knows when it was constructed. Bitting the inside of your cheek, a soft, rumbly sound goes past your lips as you shake you head at him, those big blue eyes of his trying their damnedest to look as innocent as humanly possible.

Even when he was agitated, his frustration never ceased to amuse you. He acted less like a grown man and more like a stunted little puppy, constantly yapping for its master, begging said master to please not leave him alone, oh pretty please?

His clingy nature could become tiresome at times, often forcing you to stay behind and comfort him till his aching heart was soothed enough, and then, only then, would you even consider stepping foot on the other side of the door.

Frankly, the sensation of being so wanted, of knowing that your boyfriend was so completely and utterly devoted to you, was a sensation like no other. No matter how much it hindered on your daily life, there was a more selfish part of you which absolutely reveled in it.

His undivided attention, that longing gaze he'd throw your way whenever you'd catch him stealing glances when you'd be getting ready to head out, it was as if you were playing a silly little game of cat and mouse.

It was twisted, downright cruel even to invoke such strong feelings within such a sweet man. You were not a bad person, you were sure of it. Plenty of friends and acquaintances had absolutely no issues with you nor your character, minus the occasional nitpick but hey, who doesn't face such issues?

However.

How could you stop drinking such divine ambrosia which was Phainon's vast love and devotion? How could you not grant yourself the release of being wanted for a change, to feel the desire you've dreamed of your whole life finally come back ten fold?

He became a strange drug in a way. The mere thought of him ever leaving was out of the question, you were sure that you'd cease to function properly as a person. It was as if he was giving you the necessary fuel to move, your daily tasks would always be rewarded with a vast sea of kisses and he was none the wiser just how much you needed them.

Wrapping your arms around him was like heaven incarnate, those broad shoulders of his engulfing you like a shadow as you held him close to your chest. Snow white hair was sprinkled in your vision, a few cheeky strands ensuring to capture your attention.

He's so silly, you thought to yourself as you sat together with him on the ground, his hot breath still fanning your neck with a horrid need.

Somewhere in the distant future (or perhaps not?), there would come a time which you could never predict. Actions have consequences and underestimating Phainon's will is... Dastardly, to say the least.

For now you sit with him, all dolled up and ready to go, your sweet lover clinging to you like vines on an old, stone wall, truly a picturesque scene, no?

[manitscold]

Also, in the process of getting my driving license. There was no point in doing so early on as I didn’t have the money for a car, but now I’m honestly really excited to finally do this and have my own without having to rely on public transport that really isn’t predictable at the most important of times (still love trains and walks <- mwah).

[manitscold]

Yan! Dion x female! Reader

Tw: toxic and arranged marriage, implied stalking, mention of torture and murder, implied codependency (maybe?), possessive and obsessive thoughts/behaviors. Please tell me if I missed any.

Honestly he would give in way sooner but still. Fun idea.

Minors/blank blogs (no posts) dni.

===

Ignoring Dion would drive him off the edge.

He can handle your disdain. Your disgust and fear. Resentment and mortification. Hatred.

He can handle your negative emotions, as long as they're directed towards him, meant for him. Of course he would prefer your positive ones, always and anytime. But if you refuse to offer your sweetness then he'll settle for your hatred and fear (depending on how things go he'd still lock you up)

But what if you don't show him anything?

Walking past him without so much as a glance. Finding any opportunity to avoid him, be it from willingly spending time with Maria to tagging along with Roxana.

But it's different from when you're scared. Because then, at the very least, you would look his way at least once. Acknowledge him, even. Stutter out replies, touch him to push him away if he got a bit too comfortable. Let him twirl a strand of your hair even if it displeases you, inhale your scent, feel the bed dip with your weight.

But if you were to ignore him completely?

Sleeping in your own room, away from him, preventing him access to you. Always far, always looking at someone who's not him, moving just in time so he can't make physical contact with you. Putting your hair in styles or maybe even cutting it to where he can't grab a strand of it if he's not close enough. And you never let him get close enough to begin with.

And if, by chance, you do look at him?

You look at him likes he's nothing.

No emotion in your eyes. Face neutral. You look past him, like he's a ghost or better yet, like he doesn't even exist.

You make him feel like a spector. Always haunting you and yet, you don't even notice. Act like his voice is simply the wind. His gaze that burns doesn't faze you. Cold fingers that wish to reach out never meet you.

You burn him.

In reach yet his arm isn't long enough, touch not firm enough.

Maria doesn't let him near Sierra. And a good portion of your time is around his stepmother. He could invade on your time together, but he's always called away, always pushed away.

He stops playing nice three days into this.

He tortures. He kills. He shows you. He performs it in front of you.

You don't react. Not physically, anyway. He can see the slight swirl of emotions in your eyes. But never for him.

Just because of him.

It should bring a thrill to him. But it doesn't. Not when your attention is spent on the poor bastard, comforting them as they die. Running your fingers through their hair before he snaps and grabs your wrist tightly to where it almost breaks.

You don't bat an eye.

You never do.

By then Roxana usually comes in, her poison butterflies alerting her of the situation.

It drives him crazy.

You offer more attention to Fontaine than you do to him, your own husband.

Granted, it's disgust, but still. You acknowledge his existence.

You formed a nasty habit of suggesting missions for Dion to go on to Lante. Indirectly, or give one of the servants or teachers the idea and they head over to the Black Master. And Dion can't go against Lante.

Not yet.

After he makes the mistake of becoming Roxana's dog, he has even less free time. And you? You probably enjoy it behind close doors.

Eventually the servants gave up on telling you when your husband returns. Because you offer no reaction.

He gives in, one day. To the urges he managed to suppress because simply put, if he acted on them, it would put the plan for the coup in jepordy.

You don't get to leave. Not without him.

Even if it means dying in the process.

[manitscold]

Every day I wake up, look at the same 12 people I actively follow and go to sleep with a smile on my face because of it. Well, a lot more because I have a life, but being on here is genuinely really fun.

[manitscold]

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 [𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: *sighs* I should be studying but here we are. This is meant to be a little self-indulgent piece bc everything I hear about the current quest is nothing short of soul-crushing. unlike shaoji, I'm not lying when I say that this as a light-hearted story so please enjoy (；∀；) p.s. dividers by @bbyg4rlhelps

taglist: @naenaex0xx, @silvermah, @chokifandom, @digitalspool, @winteryreads. Anyone who wants to be added, just let me know :D

synopsis — you didn't think you were treated any differently by phainon. But as you were preparing to leave amphoreus, you were told that apparently the fancy souvenirs he gave you might indicate something else entirely. (TL;DR an AU where everything gets magically resolved and you go home) word count — 1.9k

“Hey, guys. I'm recording our… um, last hours here in Amphoreus before we board the Express again." Caelus adjusts the phone in his hand, brows scrunched up in concentration, before he continues, "we've said our goodbyes to everyone, but honestly, I don't think the waterworks were necessary. It's not like we'd never stop by again.”

He begins to walk.

“Dan Heng's getting our luggage ready for when the crew comes down here to pick us up. Here, this is our… stuff,” he angles the camera to capture a pile of bags stacked in an orderly fashion, “we went here with little baggage and came home with a lot. The citizens gave us more than we anticipated, but then again, I guess that shouldn't be all too surprising for us considering what we did. And honestly? I'm not complaining. I'm not one to turn down free stuff. But, um… just letting you in on this. One of us here… got more than the rest.”

The camera whips towards you, shifting the focus to your face adorned in a faint pink hue.

“So… [name], mind telling us what gifts you got from a certain Chrysos Heir?”

Your shoulders raise in alarm and a near imperceptible trace of embarrassment. “H-Hey… don't make a fuss. It's not like you and Dan Heng weren't given anything by him.”

A snicker is heard from behind the camera. “That's because we didn't. At least, nothing as significant as yours. I definitely don't remember receiving anything of personal value.”

You turn your body away as you rub your neck. 

“C'mon! Tell the Crew what you got! Yo, guys, one of us got special treatment!”

The camera goes dark, echoing rustles and some muffled voices. 

“Okay, okay… give us the tea, [name]. Tell us what you got.” The camera lens zones in on Caelus as he nudges your side. “What did the Phainon of Aedes Elysiae get you?”

Despite his question, he aims decisively at the camera at the long golden plate covered in breathable cloth used mainly for edible goods during transport.

“Um… Phainon got me fish from his hometown. A thoughtful souvenir, in my opinion.”

Caelus draws his face closer to the camera as if to whisper something to the viewers. “Souvenir, my ass. It's a courting gift.” He removes himself from view and opts to put all the focus on you. “[name], I know you're not telling us the full story. Come on! Stop being so secretive! Tell us more!”

You rolled your eyes. “You're so nosy. Are you sure this isn't just you being jealous?”

“Damn right I'm jealous. You got this much delicious food that could last you an entire week!”

“The other Chrysos Heirs gave you something too! Stop acting like you weren't given anything!”

“Stop deflecting!” The camera shows Caelus’ hand pointing at you in an accusatory manner. “Now, hurry up and spill! Tell us more about this gift.”

It's obvious to Caelus by the indignant frown on your face that you prefer to be anywhere else than here, bothered non-stop by his persistent probing. A beat passes in charged silence, and Caelus is ready to bolt if you decide to retaliate physically. Until finally, you give in with a huff. 

“Okay, okay… Phainon brought me to his hometown the other day and told me all about the place. He gave me a brief tour around the village, showed me where he lived and even where his parents work—”

“Oh~ introducing you to your future in-laws. How sly of him.”

“Don't interrupt me!” You shoot a weak glare at the smirking Nameless behind the camera. “A-And afterwards, he brought me to the lake where he talked about the fish there. Said it was the best in Amphoreus.”

“So, he caught a big one for you?”

“You should've seen him. He immediately jumped into the water before I could even say anything.” You burst into a fit of laughter, blissfully unaware of Caelus' intrigued look at the subtext of what his hasty actions implied. “When he got out, he brought the fish home and we waited for his clothes to dry on a hill. And then, when we got back, he told me I could walk around for a bit while he cooked the fish. And… yeah! That's about it.”

You're greeted by an awkward pause, and the camera is whipped around to capture Caelus’ comically bewildered expression. 

“Yo… [name], he's courting you.”

“What? Seriously? Caelus, don't joke around—”

“N-N-No, I'm being serious. I don't think he was just being a hospitable tour guide.”

A breeze flies between the two of you; the silence remains unbroken. The serious way he relays that information makes your stomach churn with something fluttery yet uncomfortable. 

“Oh…” You glanced down, fidgeting. 

“What else did he give you?” Caelus walks closer to the smaller heaps of items placed adjacent to the cooked fish.

“Just some antique stuff.” You kneel down and carefully lift another object swathed in fine fabric. Once the wrapping comes undone, Caelus switches to his front camera to record his slack jaw. 

“[name]...” He starts slowly, the teasing glint completely gone from his face. “This looks expensive.”

“Phainon didn't say where it's from specifically. Just that it's a treasured possession he managed to bargain from one of the stores in Marmoreal Market.”

“From Theodoros?”

The camera switches perspective and locks in on you. 

“[name]... I want you to hold my hand while I say this.” You take his outstretched hand in spite of your bemusement. “I've helped him detect fake treasures before, and he imparted quite a lot of things about the items he encountered in his years of doing treasure appraisal. This—" He emphasizes his point by carrying the dolium and nearly shoving it in your face. "—is an extremely rare artifact. A highly sought out piece of earthenware.”

You both stare at each other like a pair of birds whose gaze reflects absolutely zero thoughts behind them. 

“Oh my gosh… didn't Phainon mention that he doesn't get lucky often? His purchases turns out unlucky more often than not.” You slap a hand over your mouth as the gradual revelation pieces itself together. “You don't think he… gave me one of the rare good ones from his collection, do you?”

“I was about to call him a simp, but I think he deserves more than that title.” Caelus steals a glance at the camera, his voice dropped to a hushed murmur. “He's probably way past that point.”

“Do you think this garment is also of high quality?”

Your distraught comment prompts him to arch a brow. 

“He gave you clothes… on top of the fish and dolium?”

When you respond with a wordless nod, he has to smother the crackle of jealousy that burns inside him. Seeing you receive all these luxurious gifts makes him feel as though he is witnessing a friend win the lottery. 

By the time he's done stirring in envy, his jaw nearly crashes to the floor at the sight of the garment in your hands. 

“[name], what the hell!? That's one of the expensive ones in Aglaea’s catalogue.”

“What!?” You both pull a face in sync. 

“The ones for sale are limited in stock! And by that, I mean there's less than a hundred of them. How did he get this!?”

“Oh, man! Now I feel bad! But I can't return these! That'll hurt his feelings!”

You fold the piece of attire with utmost care and calculation, setting it back inside the finely crafted box tailored to match the garment and offer it protection without sacrificing an ounce of the aesthetic value.

"Don't tell me he gave you more!"

Caelus is all but having a meltdown right now. Sure, the two of you plus Dan Heng had been more than just heroes of Amphoreus. You all put your life on the line for a planet that you've set foot on for less than a quarter of your lifetime, and helped avert any and all forms of catastrophe from coming to fruition. He shouldn't be surprised if the gratitude of the people here in Amphoreus were conveyed through plentiful gifts and endless praise, but something tells him that the way Phainon is gifting you all these things conceal something more than just gratitude and a sense of camaraderie.

He would know, after all neither he nor Dan Heng received anything as excessive or as personal as you.

“He's bleeding himself dry for you!”

“Don't say that!” You lightly slap his shoulder. “M-Maybe… it was something that Aglaea gave him. I mean, they're pretty much family to each other, I'm assuming. Is it so surprising that the revered Deliverer got something expensive and intricately handcrafted by the Goldweaver herself?”

Caelus picks up on the nervousness that lies beneath your forced optimism. “You're not buying your own lie.”

“Please! I can't bear the thought of him draining his bank account for me!” You're so deep in your own distress that you fail to catch Caelus’ longing stare at the collection of high value souvenirs you got. 

“I wish someone would splurge this much on me…”

Before you can reprimand him for his words, you both sense a familiar presence approaching. In an almost comically synced fashion, you both swerve your heads to the sight of the aforementioned guy walking up with his signature charming smile. 

“Hey, you two! Is everything alright over there?”

“Phainon!” 

Caelus raises a questioning brow at Phainon’s smile seemingly widening as he draws closer to you instead. His camera is still recording everything, and he's nothing if not nosy and bothersome with no intentions of letting this opportunity slip by. 

He subtly aims the camera at you both, zooming in on Phainon's face enough to capture the minuscule twitches and crinkles every time you respond to him. 

“Do you two need help carrying these?” Phainon gestures at piled up luggage. 

“We should be fine. I don't want to trouble you anymore than we alrea—”

“Hey, what's with the reluctance?” He inclines his head towards you ever so slightly, mindful of the space between you while also indulging in his desire for a speck of proximity. “I'm more than happy to help.”

“I know I've probably said this a lot of times, but thank you.” You don't think it's physically possible, but Phainon's face grows radiant. “Truly. For the gifts. Especially the gifts. You've been an amazing host and companion to us."

“I'm glad it's to your liking. I want to make sure that you leave Amphoreus with nothing but the absolute best piece of it.” He flashes you his trademark grin, the one he shares with children and elders, the one he sports when he greets the vendors in Marmoreal Market. Maybe it's a trick of the light, but even his regular smile feels more blinding than usual. 

It almost takes your mind off the fact that this man is burning through his own life savings just to buy you parting gifts. 

Somewhere not too far away, Caelus stands unmoving, positioning his camera at you and Phainon like a paparazzi whose rent is due. 

“Look at them, guys.” He makes gagging noises. “Can you believe they're that dense? Aeons, you can just see his tail wagging non-stop. How does one resemble an excited puppy so much?”

From within the screen of his phone, your silhouette huddles close to Phainon's. One would argue that it's actually the opposite. But seeing him outstretch his hand towards like you like a freezing man would towards a fire, seeking comfort yet afraid of touching; and the way he seizes your hand with nimble force whenever you so much as touch one of your carry-on as if to prevent you from doing a task he deems is reserved solely for him, Caelus has a not-so-arbitrary inkling that Phainon would probably spend even more on you if he could. 

He decides to end the recording when he sees something sticking out of the warrior's pocket. 

He ends up keeping the camera rolling, zooming, zeroing in on the object when the man himself extricates it from his pants and presents it to you. 

The image in his screen sharpens from its previously blurry state. 

A bracelet—brown strings, white beads with a few blue ones. Something glints at the center. By the time Caelus recognizes the sun shape, he's jamming his thumb at the ‘stop’ button with a frustrated yell. 

“Oh, c'mon! Yeah, right! ‘Not courting’, my ass!”

[manitscold]

Every time someone refuses to acknowledge his character, I lose more feathers on my wings

[manitscold]

I posted this minutes ago (at least tried) but nothing showed. Here, Dion in a prison uniform. Because that Sylvia and Roxy drawing is taking longer than expected (I’m having a hard time with colours pairing well).

[manitscold]

The modern au thing with twtptflob.

I just thought about Dion finding a man’s sweater or shirt in your closet. Or, noticing the shirt you’re wearing has a man’s cologne still lingering on it—one you can’t even pick up anymore, but he can.

Yandere! Dion Agriche x fem! Reader

HIRATFLSIL but you get transported to the modern world before you died (It’s a sitcom, trust)

WARNINGS: toxic and arranged marriage, possessive and slightly obsessive behavior/thoughts, arguments, mention of violence (Dion towards others), jealousy (Dion), snooping through your personal belongings (Dion), Dion is a whole ass warning himself. 

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY HARMFUL AND/OR TOXIC BEHAVIOR AND ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED IN REAL LIFE AS THEY ARE EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/ BLANK BLOGS (NO CONTENT/POSTS), ETC. DNI.

You gave me brain rot. It was supposed to turn fluffy but…

Unedited on google docs

===

For the sweater… hm…

Stuffed in the back of your closet like a hidden sin, Dion finds a sweater that’s out of place.

It’s oversized for you. Extremely so - it’s around the same size as one of his shirts. The shoulders are too broad to fit you, and it ends past then where it should. It’s loose and looks well-worn. 

There’s a faint hint of perfume. It’s yours, as he recognizes it every time before you leave for work - spraying the mist on yourself, deliberately ignoring the stare your husband would give. 

Be it from forming jealousy (why would you spray that when you’re going to work? Don’t you know that men are attracted to pretty, nice smelling women? Like you? Or are you trying to test his patience, seeing how long he can go without killing someone?) or… craving for physical intimacy and maybe even sexual on certain days, Dion has a habit of staring as you get ready for work.

He’s seen you wear different types of sweaters and jackets - all that fit your form. And you didn’t own many, so he thought he saw all of them. Apparently not, not when this offending article of clothing is rearing its ugly face in front of him, eyes twitching at the sight. His grip on the hanger breaks it - the broken plastic falls to the floor at his feet, taking the sweater draped over it with it. 

His glare is cold, crimson frozen over with ice. His shoulders are tense, and there’s a metallic taste in his mouth. It’s not until he unclenches his jaw does he realize he bit his inner cheek. But the sting is nothing compared to the pure hatred he’s battling inside of himself, wishing nothing more than to find the poor bastard who gave you this. 

To crush his neck in front of you. 

He stays still, seething from the inside, ignoring the calls of his name from the living room. Instead, his focus is solely on the sweater that you once wore and possibly was worn by another man. Be it an ex lover or a friend, he hates it. 

“Dion?” 

He’s slightly startled by your voice, body jerking but quickly settles back into place. He glances at the clock on the wall - you weren’t supposed to be back yet. Despite your unexpected appearance, he doesn’t look at you. 

He can practically see the confused and maybe even concerned look on your face. The way your brows would furrow when he didn’t immediately turn to look at you. The way your lips become ajar, blinking as you consider your next steps. 

And sometimes, that includes leaving. 

Your yelp doesn’t reach his ears and neither does the feeling of your wrist as he quickly grabs you to pull you into the room. The door slams shut with a ‘click.’ Since he pulled you so suddenly, so roughly, you’re too dazed from the impact of bumping into your husband’s chest to realize he locked the door. 

It barely took him a second to stride over to you, catching you off guard. 

His lips part, having enough sense to tone down his anger just enough to where you won’t scurry off. Well, it’s not like you can. 

Not when the door’s locked.

“The sweater. Who gave it to you?” 

“...huh…?” Instead of checking on you, Dion has the audacity to ask about something you don’t even notice. It’s not until his larger hand grabs your chin and makes you look at it. His grip is tight, but not enough to hurt. Regardless, his fingers tremble, clearly holding back.

Your nose throbs as you recover your senses, eyes landing on the offending article of clothing. You blink, once. Your face relaxes - becomes blank. Several seconds pass before you grab his wrist, and he lets you push it away. 

He’s still livid, but the fire in him starts to freeze over when you just… look at him like that. When it looks like you’re about to walk away, Dion grabs your wrist again. But this time, it’s not as tight, just enough to where you can’t pull away. You don’t try to, looking away from him and back at the sweater that’s lying pitfully on the floor.

You take a breath. 

“...I’ve always known you were the jealous type… but to get upset over a sweater of all things? It’d be different if it was men’s underwear or even cologne. But it’s a sweater. One you clearly had to look for because I haven’t seen it since we got transported here… one I forgot I had before I died.”

The pathetic scene reminds you of a scene where Dion was pissed that Roxana was wearing Cassis’ coat. The glare he gave, resentment and obsessive, burned brighter and cut deeper in person. Even now, he’s still wearing that look.

It stung. Deeper than you would like to admit. 

Is he… seriously upset with me? Over this? If anything, I should be the one who’s upset! He stalked the people in my life, my job, rummaged through my things, dragged me in here -

“Frankly speaking… it shouldn’t matter to you.” I was the one who bought it, refusing to pass your lips. You should be scared, you think. But it’s hard to be when Dion’s jealous of a man who doesn’t even exist.

Like you committed a sin for owning that stupid sweater. 

He could have just… asked you. Normally. Causally. Not treat you like -

“‘Shouldn’t matter to me?’ …Of course it does. It’s a man’s item.” It comes out as a growl, almost baring his teeth. It’s horrifying, terror should be washing over you. Because Dion never acts like this. Not towards you, not unless it concerns someone he considers a nuisance or threat.

Never a rival, but always a threat. 

“Dion,” you start flatly, closing your eyes and inhaling before opening them, “this world isn’t like yours. Most places in this world don’t have the same standards as yours. No-one bats an eye if a woman buys a mens jacket for herself.”

The black haired male doesn’t respond immediately. But you can feel it - the rage building in his chest. Ah, but why? He’s the one who gave you attitude first.

If anything, shouldn’t he be glad that you’re not scared of him? By him?

“Ever since…” he pulls you closer, a hand on your hip. His fingers dig into it, unrelenting and it takes everything in him not to throw you onto the bed - not to try anything, no. But just to keep you there, and have you watch him burn the sweater or even rip it.

Oil and water don’t mix. Even more so when you look at him like he’s nothing. Displeasure at most. It makes his stomach churn and the urge to wipe it off is hard to resist. 

His raspy voice cracks the slightest bit and you catch it. “We got here, you’ve been distancing yourself. More than you ever have.”

Of course you have. How could you not? 

After all, give Dion an inch and he’ll take a mile… living here, in the modern world, you tend to forget the type of man your husband is. You have to remind yourself. Always.

“And what does that have to do with the sweater?”

God. He seriously wants to -

“Xana! (Name), I’m back! And man, a fight almost broke out and - … Xana? (Name)?” 

The slam of the front door and Jeremy’s loud voice startles the two of you. But you don’t break eye contact. But you do push him away, gently, but still away regardless. Dion lets go, if only to calm down. 

Jeremy wouldn’t let you leave. Not alone, anyway. So, he doesn’t have to worry about you wandering off. 

He steps aside as you unlock the door, never once taking his gaze off of you. It burns. However, before you close the door behind you, you look at him and say -

“You’ll sleep on the couch tonight. Jeremy can sleep with Roxana and Grizelda for one night.”  You pause before adding, "Also... I lived here first. Before you." You leave without looking back, ignoring Jeremy's curious gaze as you slip on your shoes and walk out the door without a word.

The younger male follows after, your behavior reminding him of Roxana's whenever she had to deal with Dion.

The sweater that started the entire ordeal remains on the floor, forgotten as Dion stands in silence, nails drawing blood as they dig into his palms. 

===

NOTE: Got carried away lmao. I wanted to do the shirt too, with the cologne but I got way too carried away with this… hm… argument with Dion. A more mellowed out Dion. 

Anyway, one day I might do the shirt and cologne one. Hopefully. But for now, have this brain rot.

[manitscold]

I’m just imagining the arranged marriage thing but this time it’s Sunday who is head over heels for reader (maybe he was the one who set this up in the first place! This could also tie into reader being higher status but Sunday does something to make them fall and then saves them by entering a relationship with the head of the oak family) but reader doesn’t like him or is into someone else, the angst….i feel like Sunday would do everything to make them love him but it just won’t work so in the end he just begs them to at least pretend they love him and that’ll be enough. A happier prompt on this could be he does actually succeed in getting some of their genuine love in the end. Anyway just thought of this after seeing a clip of Aqua and Akane from oshi no ko. Don’t judge me.

Okay, tons of possibilities here so lets go turn by turn because i really like this idea and unfortunately let it marinate for way too long

And it might have become unintentionally yandere, so i might redo it lol + there's not much fluff.

1 . Sunday arranging the marriage himself because he really likes reader – normal au

Sunday would definitely do this if he was pushed to his wits’ end. If his feelings for you not only disintegrate, but instead worsen and delve deeper, and on top of that, if he senses you yourself are drifting away from him. The added pressure of not reaching you in time after a conclusion to his own feelings is scary to him. In his desperation, he might as well pull some or the other reason out of his ass to marry you, even going as far as to even bribe your parents/guardians or anyone who has the power to object on your behalf.

Negotiations, contract handling, etc.. are all planned by him, so if you have a problem or you want to object, you can only do it by directly confronting Sunday himself. The added intimidation of his knowing, mysterious smile when he stands before you, almost irking you to continue in silence when you hesitate at wanting to object is something he almost relishes. Any problem you might have, has to be directly communicated to Sunday.

In the actual marriage? He's much easier on you. The hard part of coercing you into the marriage was over. He allows you more freedom in the marriage than he does outside of it.

He allows you separate rooms, reigns in any affections for you until you're comfortable, and even openly lets you know you two won't have to immediately consummate your marriage. He'll generally make sure you're comfortable in your marriage.

Of course, deviations and exceptions occur if you happen to still have lingering feelings for.. some nobody. He's bitter about it, so so bitter you can feel the tension in the air when his smile slightly falters at even the mention of their name. Sunday might try to hasten the process of you getting “comfortable” and perhaps even start forcing a few affections on you, such as kissing or holding your hand, brushing your hair in the morning and before bed, lingering his eyes on your lips. He might even not so subtly try to pressurise you, by telling you things like “at this rate, many might not even think we are married, my dear”. 

He plays slightly dirty, but there's so many moments of clarity that he hesitates still. He doesn't want to force you to love him - he wants it to happen on it's own. He's often so loving to you from afar in hopes you'll notice and maybe even return them, but when you look away in anxiousness or discomfort, Sunday's smile falters into a resigned, solemn expression. It hurts, deeply.

2. Sunday arranges the marriage with a reader of higher rank

Its similar, but you'll find the process is hastier. Perhaps it even causes a few slip ups in the middle.

Sunday would be practically tearing at his own hair before he finds the key to catalyze the negotiations of your marriage with him. If it's something that happens to knock you down or push you into unfavourable circumstances, he hesitates. But if you happen to like someone else? All that hesitation vaporises in an instant. He's practically over the moon when you have no one to turn to, his hand is almost shaking from excitement when he reaches it out to you. 

He's much more.. smothering if it makes sense, but he's not outright/direct about it. He always wants to be wherever you are, sometimes stands too close for comfort beside you, and even puts you in circumstances where you won't necessarily be able to push back in the case you damage your already fragile image or so. He's so elated, it's almost creepy. If you don't seem to be driving the relationship, or remain stagnant, his suspicions will grow immensely regarding your feelings for anyone else. Whenever you aren't present, he probably rifles through your belongings, scours for any possibility of traces of that nobody in your life.

He insists on spending the night with you – a familiar knock at the exact same time almost every night on your room's door. He stays with you, talking until it's late at night and you're too tired to shoo him away. But he'd never think himself superior than you, rather he almost takes advantage of it. He's constantly telling you how much incharge of the relationship you are. He disguises choices he wants to make on your behalf as something you can decide on. “Would you like a separate room for us both, or would you like us to have connected doorways?” , “shall I spend the morning with you, or the night?” , or so on. Not doing anything with him makes him sour, but he hides it with a smile. Sooner or later your plans are sabotaged, and in the end he joins you in “fixing” them anyway, and well.. since he's already been here for so long, it won't hurt to have him stick by until the end of it, right?

In some extreme cases, maybe one where the reader is desperately trying to leave the marriage or push back against anything that solidifies it, Sunday might even insist that you two consummate as fast as possible, regarding it as something necessary or even vital. He's so persistent about what he wants from you, like a dog begging and whimpering, that you're practically coerced into giving it to him.

He often poses himself on his knees to you, and stares so tenderly at you, you might crack. It hurts to not give him what he wants. There's times where begging words almost slip out of his mouth when he has to pull you closer. He wants your love so desperately it hurts.

[manitscold]

I may or may not have just played Honkai Star Rail the entire day…

[manitscold]

SO MUCH MIZISUA???? WITH THE MADOKA AHH AESTHETIC AND RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM??? OH WE ARE BEING FED

THANK YOU KARMA

[manitscold]

FATHER IS BACK GLORIOUS BE TODAY

Tears are streaming down my face, my hands are shaking and I’m on the ground convulsing from joy overload

Blessed be the day of today, for our beloved Crown Prince has returned. Words fail me as I am unable to express the real extent of my elation.

Welcome back, Callisto Regulus 🙏

THE HAND PLACEMENT LOOK AT THE HAND PLACEMENT *EXPLODES* FATHER AND MOTHER ARE TOGETHER AGAINNNN AAAAAAA

AUGHAUGHAUGH

[manitscold]

I've been wondering something... Is it alright if I use your add ons in the comment sections of certain posts for future fics of the og post (e.g discussions of idol reader x yan Dion in that comment section). I just wanted to make sure if that'd be okay with you because I genuinely like your ideas

Of course!!!

[manitscold]

Trying to trick Dion into signing divorce papers... Wonder how that would go...

[manitscold]

Will never not find it really funny how rough colouring at the start looks. Genuinely horrific.

[manitscold]

I SUDDENLY TRANSMIGRATED TO A BLOODY THRONE WAR NOVEL AND I CAN’T GO BACK!

Yandere Crown Prince Phainon x Fem Transmigrated Reader

WARNINGS: obsessive and manipulative behaviors, depictions of violence, blood, slight gore, death of minor characters, non-consensual affection, phainon is delusional, parallels to amphoreus' storyline which can be considered as spoilers. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 11.2k words.

ALSO CONTAINS: Isekai/transmigration themes.

One of these days I’m gonna put myself on a silver platter and serve it to Phainon.

You typed in your phone, gushing to your friend about the new update from the novel both of you had been following lately.

The Era Nova. An action-thriller novel about a charming crown prince thrust into a bloody game of court and throne. The story follows how Phainon, the crown prince with a golden heart, will navigate the dangers of the messy palace life, and how he shall succeed to finally become the emperor of the kingdom.

You were absolutely smitten with Phainon. First and foremost, the author surely did their best job at hiring good artists for the illustrations, because damn did they make justice of the ‘charming and handsome’ part of Phainon's character. Secondly, the gripping scenes of Phainon finally seizing the power from his enemies might've done something to your brain.

[Blue eyes suddenly flashed golden as he raises his sword and lays waste inside the throne room. What used to be regal figures now lie like broken statues, the red on their backs bleed farther than their capes.

Ascending from the blood of past kings, the new emperor, Phainon, has arrived.]

The words of the novel still stuck to your mind like glue, are you wrong for thinking that scene is just,

So hot?

phainon looked so YUMMY in the ending scene like the mask and cloak??? hmmm yes, and he makes even blood look good. wtf ur so real for that tho, but the ending's kinda sad don't you think? he'll be left alone in the palace far away from his people oh-

Maybe it's the way Phainon’s character is brought into the story, but he's this kind-hearted prince who transformed into an imposing ruler. The way his character hardened and developed pulled in your heartstrings. He brings conflict to your emotions, on how you loved his radiant and princely side, but at the same time is swept off your feet by his blinding majesty.

Must be the reason why you loved reading this novel. It seems that the author did a great job of stringing you, the reader, into Phainon's emotions and inner world. It makes you wish for the success of his plans in the story, but it also pains you to see him change as a price.

affected by literal fucking words and pixels, please save me from era nova, why can't i just pick a fav and go??? why do i also have to feel for them like please leave me alone he just wanted to be an appraiser and live normally with his people, why'd they have to do him like that ikr, like noooo phainon my sweet baby :( he succeeded but at what cost? :((((

Phainon ascends to the throne, the end. You saw this coming from a mile away, but actually seeing something that's been a part of your daily life for months finally concluding did hurt you a bit. There's a pang of emptiness, ah, the feeling of finishing a book and never hearing from that world again.

Sucks.

You'll probably get over it and find a new thing to fixate on soon, but for now you'll lament Phainon’s fate and think about the damn novel for a few more hours.

well becoming an emperor so suddenly sounds kinda lonely so if he needs a princess by his side im just here 🙏  girl, you'll die from the court shenanigans alone lol oof yeah u right [are you willing to do that?] fuck yeah lol, all in for PHAINON [heh, come here then] ??? it's 4am rn tho

Don't wanna go out yet. You're supposed to type, but suddenly you felt the most splitting headache you ever had the misfortune to feel. Your vision goes blurry and suddenly, everything's so dark.

★

You woke up to the fluttering of soft…lace?

Opening your eyes, you are faced with the soft swishing of the lacy fabric hanging up on the bedposts. The fabric dancing in the air caresses your face, the gentle touch of lace rouses you further from sleep. Wait, bedposts?

Realizing the anomaly in your room, you stood up. Well, tried to do so. Because your head suddenly feels like it's groaning in pain and so do you.

“Oh no miss! Don't stand up too fast, your head injuries might worsen!”

A brown-haired lady wearing a black dress with white apron suddenly ushers towards you. Her face is frowning, filled with as much worry as her frantic voice has.

White apron… like a maid outfit.

You stilled, brain churning for the last bits of the previous night. For one, you are texting your friend about Era Nova, second is that they asked you to ‘come to them’ at such an ungodly hour, and then… and then what?

“Master! The lady has awoken!”

What happened last night?

Your head suddenly throbs in pain again, it's akin to a migraine that suddenly surprises you when you least expect it. The difference though from an ordinary migraine is that this one seems to carry something.

A lot of things, memories to be exact, actually.

You are the only daughter of the count of this area. You are currently in your estate at Okhema, and that you had a bad fall at… some market?

More and more flooded to your head, some crystal clear memories and some are fuzzy, something bathed in yellowing lights — childhood memories. It doesn't clear itself though, as if it's decided that those are not of importance.

“My daughter… how do you feel?”

A voice interrupts your train of thoughts. There enters a man seemingly in his late forties. He's wearing clothes that seem to be out of a theater play you watched back then. His tall stature exudes elegance, something out of a regency drama.

Where are you exactly?

You didn't speak, mind running in different directions, different explanations and reasonings for whatever absurdity you are currently in as of now. Are you kidnapped? Did you get drunk last night and wandered to a TV set? Why would they play along then if that's the case? Is this a new, untapped-by-science side effect of combined lack of sleep and caffeine overdose?

All of your hypothesis sounds like it was spoken by insanity itself. Why would this happen? Is this real? Dozens of questions floated around your mind until it was cleared away by the same voice.

“My dearest, we have investigated the entirety of Marmoreal market and found no signs of the carriage that hit you. I'm deeply sorry for this news, but don't worry, father is not going to stop looking for…”

Your ‘father’s’ voice droned in and out of your ear, his words seem to be mixing and swirling into your senses.

Except for one.

Marmoreal. Then you also remembered one of the information bits that flooded to your brain, Okhema. You were so distraught earlier that you didn't process the memories itself, the familiar places and names suddenly makes sense, finally tracing back to their origin.

The Era Nova.

Marmoreal is the center of Okhema’s trade, a place where half of the story convenes because Phainon frequents this place so much. The kingdom that hailed him as one of their crown princes is Okhema.

Maybe it was really insanity who penned these events unfolding to you right now.

“Master, excuse my interruption, but my lady seems to be in great pain earlier, she may not be ready for that conversation,” The woman who you first saw when you woke up warily said to the man beside you. In your memories, she is your lady in waiting.

“Right, of course, please take care of her and make sure she rests.” 

The man leaves, the brown haired maid follows, telling you that she's going to fetch you soup and medicine.

Left alone in your thoughts, you only can look outside the window. Behind the branch where two songbirds are perched, singing a duet — lies the Marmoreal Palace, in front of your very own eyes.

Insanity, yes, this must be insanity.

There's no fucking way you just got isekai’d in your favorite novel.

★

Of all the things to read before your isekai trip, it had to be this dramatic thriller of a genre.

You sluggishly stood up after your maid left you with the soup and medicine. You walked towards an ornate mirror, something that looks like it belongs to a museum, not in a home.

With that in mind, you found out two things.

First is that your family is rich. Second is that despite being transmigrated into a fantasy, kingdom-themed novel, you still looked the same.

Yes, unfortunately, no waking up in the body of a pink-haired maiden with flawless skin and plump lips.

At least you're rich, right?

“Man, I wanna know what it feels like to have natural pink hair.” You sighed in front of your mirror. You do look a bit more radiant at least, as if you finally scrounged enough money to contact a dermatologist and do something about your eyebags.

Yes, yes, it might seem like you were just put on a dress for some play but at least your face looks clearer. A win is a win.

Going back, you repeatedly consider your family’s status. Rich and has a stable business? Then it is perfect. An unspoken rule in the isekai world is that, peace comes from not fucking around with the plot. It seems that you're in a lineage of businessmen, not royalty, so there's no reason for you to get tangled up in the bloody ‘court games’ that Era Nova is all about.

Gotta thank the plot for giving you some background on who you are in the story at least. Still, you've opted for pretending that you lost some of your memories, much to your family's horror — so that asking painfully obvious questions in case you forget something isn't too strange.

That, and also because you've seen this in many transmigration novels that you wanted to try it.

You probably should've stuck to something along the lines of romance or slice-of-life novels instead if you knew that this is going to happen.

All feels surreal, you never expected to experience being sent into the world of a novel. You thought isekai is just a fantasy genre you only read.

But alas, you're here now. There's no cameras or crew members revealing you're in a prank, a show, or something. It's been too long for that.

★

Crazy thought, but what if I try finding Phainon?

You suddenly think while you're in the bath, a pair of maids helping you scrub your body. It's been a few days since you got here. You did your best in adjusting, using the memories that were given to you and the books which, luckily, you can understand and read.

It also helps that you're proficient about The Era Nova back in the real world. You've been into forums and posts discussing the plot and the worldbuilding of this work. Save for the more innate traditions and customs, your knowledge about the events and how this kingdom came to be is more than enough for you to navigate in your daily life here.

In fact, you might be too proficient, because your butler let out a stray comment telling you that you have the potential to be a historian in the academy.

Your earlier thought about finding Phainon resurfaced again. Now that you think about it properly, it seems to be the stupidest idea you've made as of now.

No, no! Do not get involved with Phainon, he's the most direct, one-way ticket to the plot.

You didn't think further, instead you relaxed into the bath.

★

Thankfully, you have recovered. You think it's because your brain finally conjured all the memories it needed, hence your headaches had finally stopped.

Your father now also reluctantly lets you go outside again, but he strictly advises you to be careful, a long spiel of reminders and shoving at least two knights with you everywhere you go.

Wow, your family had knights.

Today, you're heading to the Marmoreal Market, where you're supposed to have been run over by a carriage before. You shivered at the thought, although nothing concrete came into mind when you tried remembering it.

Maybe it's mercy, who wants to remember that kind of pain?

Your carriage moves along the cobblestones. Estates, parks, ornate fountains and rows of wooden stalls pass by your window. Straight out of a fairytale kingdom. You couldn't believe your eyes, your heart was pounding. It's real, you're really here.

You only went out to have a closer look at the world you got thrown into. You knew what it's like in the novel, but seeing it in person is a whole ‘nother experience that cannot be replicated.

Today, you're going to investigate, but you guess it wouldn't hurt to explore Okhema too.

★

It's unfortunate that you only have two feet and can only go in a single direction at a time when the Marmoreal Market has a dozen pathways and shops calling your attention.

It's vastly different from the real world, that's for sure.

The colorful tapestries draped into the rooftops of each store weave a grand picture to your eyes. The goods displayed felt magical, even what's supposed to be simple bread sold in the west area looks like it's glazed in gold and the dresses hanging in the southern part all have intricate stitching that make the fabric feel alive.

Your eyes are twinkling in wonder. It felt like you were a kid again in an amusement park, the excitement on each turn of your head palpable. You took advantage of your sizable allowance and picked pastries and trinkets that interest you, those that seem otherworldly that you'll probably never see again once you go back.

Right, what about going back to the real world?

Magic exists in the story of The Era Nova. One of the shops here sells magical items. It's your main objective for the day. The concept of other worlds could still be seen as strange, but it's worth a shot, you think.

When you finally reach the shop, it's unassuming at first, only a crooked wooden signage and an old wind chime greet you when you lay your eyes on its facade, but what's inside is completely different.

Rows and rows of shelves filled with various jars and knick-knacks welcomed you. It's like you stepped into the set of Alice in Wonderland. The line of shelves leads to a counter, a single woman faces you, her little corner filled with hanging plants and more trinkets.

The woman on the counter only stares at you. At first you think it's strange, but remembering that you're inside a novel cuts off that thought. Maybe it's normal here. In most novels, characters that have to do something with magic tend to be a bit mysterious and quirky anyway.

You continued browsing, eyes looking for strange artifacts that could be connected to how you can go home. It feels like a shot in the dark as you have no idea what could be considered ‘a strange artifact’ because all of these things are foreign to you.

As you collect your courage to just straight up ask the bizarre questions of ‘portals’ and ‘other worlds’ to the woman on the counter, a flicker catches your attention.

A hand mirror, it's embellished with small golden suns and silver moons on its frame. The handle is just the same, with a bigger sun and moon eclipsing at the center.

But the design isn't what catches your attention, it's what's within the mirror itself. Because instead of reflecting the shop’s interior — it's reflecting the inside of your real world bedroom instead.

You nearly jumped towards the glass display it's being held in. The woman on the counter stares at you before giving a somewhat pitied look.

“It's a great piece, but unfortunately that's reserved for a special customer.”

Your heart drops at her statement. No, no way, this could be the key to going home. You're going to have this one, even if you have to put trade offers that are disadvantageous to you. As you were about to open your mouth to argue, you were interrupted by a chime.

“Lord Phainon, are you here for your reservation?”

“Yes, thank you for keeping it for me.” A man — no Phainon, walks into the counter. If your heart dropped earlier, it's now currently digging itself lower than the ground. Of all people, it just had to be him.

The woman walks past you and into the glass display. She grabs the mirror and heads into a door hidden by plants. This leaves you awkwardly standing beside the Phainon.

“It's rare to see other customers here, I'm starting to think that I’m the only one who knows of this place honestly,” Phainon casually starts off. You shouldn't be surprised at his friendly demeanor as you've read about it a thousand times already, but that friendliness directed to you makes your heart race at a dizzying speed. 

Snow-white hair that's slightly tousled, the striking blue eyes, like it's twinkling as he smiles. His tall stature is more obvious due to the small space but his stance is relaxed as he watches over you, the differences in your height just perfect enough to display the golden sun on his neck at your eye level. There's no denying, it's really Phainon in the flesh, and the novel did not lie, he's the most charming and radiant person you've seen in the entire time you're here.

Oh dear, he's so beautiful.

You would've gushed about him more if it weren't for the silence that's hanging over you and the current situation about that mirror.

“Ahh… yeah this store is… really interesting!” The response came as awkward as you can imagine, although Phainon didn't seem to mind as he chuckled and continued the conversation.

“I know, right? The shop’s filled with so many antiques and magical devices that I couldn't imagine how long it would take to appraise them all, they seem endless and that's what draws me here,” His tone is cheery, a smile spreading across his face.

You nearly forgot that Phainon has a hobby of collecting antiques and appraising them.

The lady comes out of the room carrying a box — presumably the mirror with your room in it inside. She hands the box to Phainon, but her stare never leaves you.

“Miss if you'd like, we have more hand mirrors and other displays-”

“Oh, is the lady over here interested in this mirror too?” Phainon suddenly interrupts the lady, who answers his question with a nod.

“Actually… I really wanted to check this specific mirror,” you softly said, might as well whisper with how quiet it went out of your mouth.

“My, I didn't expect to make a lady sad today. Unfortunately, I did reserve this a week ago… and I’m kind of expecting this piece — but! If you'd like, you can join me in appraising this, you said you wanted to see it closely right?” He offers, his smile widens as he turns to you, seemingly proud of his solution.

Oh no, he has such a nice smile.

Who could say no to that?

You take his offer.

★

In the first place, why do you still want to go home?

You woke up in a world filled with magic and whimsy, a world that looks like it has your dreams for its foundation. From a fantasy novel to a daily occurence.

So why?

Maybe it's because despite being physically here, you never really belonged. The monotonous voice that calls out to your ‘parents’, the practiced greetings, and the feeling of disconnect from your very self.

It's like you're just playing a role.

A role you cannot take seriously. Because back there, you have a life, a pretty boring one but it's yours. You're wondering if your cat is fed back home, you're thinking about your friend who wanted to meet up that day, and is your family worried? What about your real body? And your phone.

Oh you miss the glorious internet even for all its flaws. Maybe you wouldn't be as lost here if search engines existed.

The thoughts barrage your supposed peace of mind again, which is why you broke your promise of not getting involved with Phainon. 

You need to see that damned mirror.

Isn't it funny how things are progressing just like an actual isekai novel? Because you do remember a few titles that had the protagonist promising to stray themselves off of the plot only to get plunged right in the middle of it moments later.

You mentally swatted the thought. 

Because unlike the romance novels you've seen, the main driving force of this story is violence and revenge. Phainon succeeded in the story by removing all that tried stopping him. If you make a mistake — get too entangled, you might just get yourself extremely hurt.

There's a hypothesis that if you were to die in an isekai, your soul might just go back to reality. It's a hypothesis that you wish to not prove by looking for alternative paths instead, but if all comes crashing down, you'd rather have your death not by a weapon.

But… there's the alternative already right? Maybe getting a bit involved with the main character is a small price to pay for that. If the mirror proves to be the way of going home, then your involvement with Phainon would have no way of going any further.

So here you are, meeting the very man himself. The Sun of Okhema and the star of The Era Nova, Phainon.

You're not one for lying to yourself, you're a little too excited about seeing Phainon again. He’s totally your type, and if you're as headstrong as those female leads in isekai, you might've even risked it for him.

Well, you're not, and you want to go home now.

“Over here, my lady!” A loud voice beckoned you. With how cheery it sounded, you knew it's definitely Phainon even without looking.

He's wearing casual attire, too casual. White dress shirt that’s a little too sheer, and plain black slacks that go straight down to his leather shoes that's studded with small golden bits on its straps (which you found out are small suns as you walk closer to him). For all the straightforwardness of his outfit, the black choker that wraps around his neck stands out.

You see, you have no qualms about his clothing choices, but the sheer fabric is quite literally framing his muscles to all its glory and you’re a teeny tiny bit flustered. The choker isn't helpful either, as that leads your stare on his neck and jawline instead.

Ah self, pardon my bullshit just this once, not everyday you see the man of your dreams.

You swallow your embarrassment and approach him. You've opted to just a simple wave, but Phainon had other plans — he grabs your waving hand gently kisses it, his eyes never leaving you.

Well, shit.

“Oh? Was that too direct? Apologies, it's a common courtesy here so I just got used to it,” Phainon suddenly retracts himself when he sees your half open mouth.

“No, no, it's fine! Don't worry about it,” You responded almost too quickly, “Anyways, so…”

“The mirror, yes?”

“Yes, yes, the mirror! Can I have a look at it?” Now that you listen closely, it seems weird that you're so eager to ask for someone else’s personal belongings, but for the sake of your trip back home, you're willing to just swallow your pride for now.

“Hmm… no?” Phainon playfully answers, the smile on his face growing.

“Ah?” You could only utter that syllable. Did he finally catch on how weird this entire thing is?

“What I mean is not yet, we have to appraise it first.”

You could only stare at him dumbfounded before laughing it off. Phainon has a hobby of appraising antiques, this is one of his most highlighted quirks in the novel as he wishes to finally break free from his royal duties and work as a full-time appraiser. 

Unfortunately, he has to let go of that dream after bearing the crown in the ending.

So as an avid reader and a fan of Phainon, you just let him talk your ear off about the intricate carvings of the mirrors and what tool could have been used in making them. 

Just this once Phainon, because in the upcoming years, you'll have bigger worries than telling me the approximate age of this hand mirror.

You smile at how enthusiastic his voice sounded, but as he got into explaining the mirror itself, the entire thing started to feel off.

The mirror, which showed you your old bedroom, now suddenly feels… too normal. Plain. Nothing.

Back in the shop, it's eye-catching. Not only because it showed your real world, but also because the object itself seemed to be calling out your attention. 

But right now, as Phainon traces his fingers on the embellished grooves, it feels nothing, like the magic sucked out of it. The suns and moons are now just ordinary embossing on the thing’s surface.

You and Phainon are currently sitting on a bench just right outside the palace. The two of you might've sunk too deep in conversation that the lamp posts that towers you are already lit up. The skies are blurring into orange blue tones.

“Oops, I got carried away. But I hope the lady is satisfied with my appraisal? Hopefully I was able to give you the closest look to it.”

Phainon moves closer to you, before gently putting the hand mirror to your lap. 

“It's yours now, a gift, you're the only one who listened this long,” He grins, before standing up and offering his hand, “It's nightfall now, so I will walk you to your carriage.”

The two of you walked across the streets that's starting to liven up. Stalls are being set, with vendors hanging up lights and signages. The kids are running around, the adults sighing behind them. It seems like a bazaar is being set up.

A bazaar?

[As night befalls, the festivities rose. In between the hanging lights and the rows of wooden stalls, lies a plot turned against Phainon.

The assassin waits, a rifle at hand. The people flow until they fill the crevices of the bazaar. In the mind of the hunter, a flock of panicked sheep will cover the fallen prey long enough for him to get away.]

“Fuck was that today?” You whispered to yourself, which earned a curious look from Phainon.

Assassinations. This is what you're talking about as danger and Phainon go hand in hand. Of course, one less royal is one less contestant to the crown.

And now, you might've gotten yourself involved at just the perfect timing to be right beside him when he's supposed to be shot from above.

Phainon did survive this in the novel, but you're not quite sure if you would. The two of you are heading closer to the bazaar when you decide to do your last-ditch effort at distracting him.

You ran towards a little girl selling flowers and bought whatever flower catches your eye, it so happens to be a bunch of hyacinths.

You didn't even collect your change from the girl when you walked back to Phainon and handed him the flowers. “Uhh.. I just wanted to give these to you, thanks for today, Phainon!”

Right, he wanted to buy flowers in the bazaar that day.

“Oh and also, let's just take a detour, the bazaar lights kinda make me dizzy… unless you need to buy something there?” 

“No, I don't need anything… thank you too.” Phainon answered. Thank god it worked.

Right in front of you, Phainon is smiling softly, staring at the bunch of hyacinths that are now in his hands. He has the prettiest smile, wish he could keep that.

As the two of you walked to your carriage, it started to slowly sink in that maybe Phainon is not just a character, at least not right now, because that smile felt real.

You hope the assassin gets tired of waiting.

★

When you sat down in the carriage to collect your thoughts, you noticed a few things that were a bit wrong. 

In the flurry of your thoughts and emotions earlier, there's one thing you'd miss — the honorifics. Despite him being a complete chatterbox, he's still a prince, and never once in your entire conversation had you referred to him as such.

Oh god, does he now think I’m disregarding his status like the other nobles and royals that are against him?

You've known that your family are businessmen, but you only recently found out that you're prominent ones. Your nobility goes far and wide in Okhema, your family's influence in trade could certainly be used as leverage to the likes of Phainon.

Oh no, I hope I’m not on his hitlist yet, I didn't mean to disrespect him.

Now that you mention it, you might've acted suspicious because of your fixation on that mirror. And now, you also feel bad for trying to claim something he technically owns, knowing his background in the story. 

You comforted yourself with the fact that it's his idea to meet like this though, also his idea to let go of the antique, but you now can only hope that it's a genuine meeting and not some sort of test for the weird daughter of the biggest business man in the city.

Right, he did give me the mirror.

You propped up the thing that led you in this situation. An antiquated mirror, which now should've shown you your real world, if your hypothesis was right.

But just like earlier, it doesn't even feel magical or even interesting, as if the mystique that led you to it was knocked straight out of it.

“Fuck, don't tell me that I was only hallucinating back when I was in that shop… to think that I might've made Phainon uncomfortable and pressured him into giving this up, ugh.” You buried your face in your palms, sighing deeply.

A thought popped into your head — the Academy. The Grove of Scholars do have a few mages in their ranks, they're the teachers of magic in this world. Maybe they could help you identify whatever's in the mirror.

Alright, let's make use of this thing, sorry Phainon, but it's a gift now isn't it?

★

The academy in this world is bizarre.

It sits atop of a ginormous tree that towers the entire field. Its branches envelop the surrounding area, in them, different buildings are encased, which can be accessed by the winding pathways that wrap around the trunk.

The tree isn't really the most bizzare thing to you though, it's the stairs. There's special devices scattered that could bring you to the various facilities of the grove, but stairs are still the predominant way of moving around here.

“I'm not built for this thing… is this why they always make the art for those scholar characters bulky despite them claiming they're feeble?” You sat down on one of the staircases. You checked back on your bag and saw that the hand mirror was still there, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you new here, miss? Haha, yes the grove has a lot of stairs, but once you enroll here, you'll get used to it!” A bubbly voice suddenly comes beside you.

“Oh, hello! Yes… it's embarrassing I get tired this easily, I'm not here to enroll though, I'm just here to inquire about an antique.” You answered the pink-haired girl.

Her smile brightens and she shows you a badge, it's the same as the academy’s.

“Oh, I'm a student here, miss, rest assured that I'm knowledgeable enough though. If you want to tell me about it, maybe I can save you from climbing further up there!”

You take her kind offer and tell her everything you've noticed about the mirror you're holding. She asks you to put it in her hands, and after a few moments her answer comes to you.

“There's not a single trace of magic in here.”

You should've known, but you still felt quite disappointed. What was that back in the shop then? Delusion?

“Oh… I see, well good thing you're here, I might've gone up there only for nothing.” You can only laugh softly at her.

“Well, my professor's lab is there, so even if the mirror turns out to be a fake, you can still ask him about your theories regarding the portal. Don't worry, he won't think it's weird!”

“Also…” The cheerful voice suddenly turns into a whisper, “If you're planning to sell this thing, it might not be worth much.”

“Oh, uhm, I’m not going to sell it… but why wouldn't it be worth much?” You looked at her slowly.

“The mirror is tampered, or probably recently restored, the glass is new. It's not entirely an antique if there's new parts right?”

★

[Broken, bloody pieces of what used to be a fair hand mirror lie messily on the carpeted floors. The golden eyes staring at it only blinks.

The eyes move back onto the table, the metal that used to carry the glass is facing him. The man’s bloody hand, one where some shards are still buried in its skin, carefully caresses the embossed suns.

He then picks up a round piece of mirror, the crafting skills he picked up from his adventures made it so that the foreign piece would fit perfectly in the hollow space the old one left.

If not for keen eyes, it would've looked like it belongs there just fine.]

★

You just woke up, but you feel like going back into the darkness of your sleep.

And stay there for a long, long time.

Because in front of you is a maid. She's an ordinary maid, if not for the blue and gold envelope in your hands.

“His highness Phainon wishes to formally meet you in his estate. Today. Should I prepare your bath and clothes while you eat breakfast?” There's a hint of a smile on her face.

But not yours.

Because you think that this might've been your end. The words his highness sting you. Ah yes, the royalty and their titles, what could go wrong.

But the envelope is already there. For a split second, the idea of just chucking it down the fireplace and running to the countryside like those villainesses sounded good in your head, but you soon came to realize that declining a royal might just pose more misunderstandings.

Let's just hope he lives up to his novel persona and I'll be able to plead with him.

★

You're kind of disappointed in yourself.

For someone who's a ‘self-proclaimed The Era Nova specialist,’ you judged Phainon way too quickly.

It feels more awful seeing his closed-eye smile directed at you.

No, he didn't execute you or put you under some royal decree. What he did do is literally thank you for buying him flowers that night and served you the most fragrant (and probably expensive) tea you've ever had.

“Sorry for the sudden invite, I was just excited to finally have a friend here.”

“Ah… yes, of course, I'm happy to have met you too, your highness-” This time you made sure to not forget, but he only frowned at this.

“So formal now, aren't we?” He looks at you with what seems to be puppy-dog eyes and your heart flips.

“Did I… have I offended you that night? I'm sorry-”

“Oh no! No you didn't, I don't care much about titles like that anyway… plus even if I do, it's not your fault, you're not used to it, right?” He quickly exclaims, trying his best to prove your thoughts about that night wrong.

Used to it?

“Anyways, please don't think of this meeting as anything else aside from a simple chat with a friend.” He smiles again, “Oh, the biscuits ran out, let me fetch some more, if you excuse me.”

He saunters to the door, leaving you alone in his office. You suddenly feel smaller when you realize where you are. Is it really okay for him to bring a stranger to such a place?

He even personally fetched snacks for you, as in the novel, he's used to doing things on his own. It's because he grew up to do so, because he's raised to be alone. 

But he never brought that up against anyone, instead he just considers it as a way of showing sincerity to those around him, personally attending to them and being ‘a friend’. These things about him make him such a warm character. You feel the worst for being distant to him.

You should've known that he probably never had anyone listen to his long-winded explanations about his antiques or just have a simple chat that doesn't involve royal politics. He's always been described in the novel as a free-spirited and cordial fellow after all.

But hopefully, he doesn't blame you for putting up walls. He was at the center of all in this novel, all the good and the bad. You just wanted to enjoy your stay here and go back home. You cannot risk being tied to him.

All these thoughts had you fiddling your necklace that's made with a rare pearl only found in the deepest parts of the sea. The thing is incredibly expensive. So when the pearl suddenly detaches from the chain, you pray Phainon takes longer and crawled to the floor to retrieve it.

You think you've hit an all-time high stress level when you feel a sharp pain in your palm. As you're skittering around the sofa, you manage to feel the pearl underneath it, what you didn't notice is the shard of glass sitting beside it.

It was too late when you felt it after unknowingly pressing down on it to catch the pearl. You sat back down on the sofa, carefully dropping it to your purse.

You held onto the glass shard though. The piece emanates a strange sheen to it, as if it's glowing.

Suddenly, the mirror flickers, a bright light reflects on it for a few seconds before disappearing.

No way… are all the mirrors in this world weird?

“Hey I'm back…?” You turned your head towards Phainon, who's carrying a plate of various biscuits and sweets. You hurriedly shove the shard in your purse too.

Phainon's stare darkens and you gulp. Shit did he see me crawling around in his office right after he trusted me to be left alone?

“Wait, so-”

“Your hand is bleeding, what happened?” Phainon quickly ran towards you. He set down the plate and pulled a snow-white handkerchief from his pockets. He gently wiped the blood which you hadn't noticed, had trickled to your fingers. He also patted closer to the wound, which made you wince.

“Wait, my pendant fell and I went to retrieve it, but I must've pressed my hand on a sharp edge… thank you for wiping it, I didn't notice the blood.” You alter the story a bit, not wanting to alert him about you taking something from his home, even if it's a mere mirror shard.

“I see… there's a washroom down the hallway, let me bring you there.” He stops dabbing at the wound, he then helps you up, the worried look on his face now lightened.

★

If you hadn't known, you would've thought that Phainon's estate is the Palace itself.

What's supposed to be a simple walk into the washroom turned into sightseeing for you. The hallways are magnificent, something you thought you'd only see in movies. The interior of the entire place is entangled in gold. There's also sculptures and antiques, which you're guessing are a part of Phainon's collection.

The washroom is covered in dark blue, which makes the marble of the sink stand out. As you dip your hand into the basin, you unconsciously looked into the mirror and met with Phainon's stare.

“Your estate is magnificent, your hi- ah, Phainon.” You mentioned, trying to stave off the awkwardness of him staring like a hawk while you clean your wound.

“Hmm, family passed it down to me, gift from the emperor.” Phainon continues. His body leans to the doorway, eyes still in your hands.

“I see… Do you live alone? Sorry if it seems prying, but I haven't seen another soul ever since I got here.”

He lives alone. You think. In the novel, while Phainon is presented to be this outgoing boy, he actually leads a secluded life. He chose to live alone in an estate to distance himself from the palace. But it would be weird if you acted like you knew.

“No, it's not prying, and yeah, I live alone, quite lonely if you ask me.” He walked towards you when you finished, grabbing your hands and gently drying it with a wash towel. He then wraps your palm in thin gauze, the actions making your cheeks heat up.

“Apologies if it seems sloppy, I haven't really done this to anyone aside from myself.” He murmurs.

“No, no, it's fine! Thanks a lot, Phainon.”

The two of you walk back to his office, there's still biscuits to finish and stories to tell, after all.

★

[For all he could remember, he's always been alone.

A child born from a loveless marriage, only brought to this world to fight for a piece of embellished metal. There was a time when he had friends and such, but it's a time long gone as what's only left now is a hollow manor he calls his home.

It's a lonely gift, devoid of anyone who cares. It's a cage in a sense that what's only keeping him here is the promise of a crown. If he could, he would've left in a heartbeat, but all he ever built up will be left in waste too.

So you cannot blame his anguish when he found out that his hardships were only written for entertaining an otherworldly audience. That one fateful evening where his magic uncovered the reality of his sad, lonely world.

But there was someone.

Who kept flipping the pages of his story, the one who laughed when he did, cries when he does. Curiosity led to observation, and suddenly, he didn't seem too alone.

He kept track of you in the reflection of waters, in dreams, in mirrors. Sometimes your words would be heard in his head, sometimes you're like an apparition in his walls.

But all that's important to him is that you're his devoted reader. A dedicated audience to this woeful farce.

He saw the ending, the bloodshed in the throne room, the crown and the new reign. He laughs, because it was framed as a victory, it's ironic — because all the nights he wished he was just born an ordinary boy ultimately ends up with him being farther away from it.

He’s not going to stray away from it though, he doesn't think he can, he's too deep to ever go back up. But he's still a lonely man, so when his magic finally transcends barriers, he couldn't help but ask you a question.

“Are you willing to do that for me?”

Your agreement is all that mattered, as he's hurriedly scribbling in the tattered book he found somewhere. The book lists itself as ‘The Era Nova’, but Phainon did not care about what anomaly made him aware of the universe’s truth, all he could care about is your new identity written in frantic scribbles.

Your soul feels nice. It's the only thing he could come up with when you came to him. It's like you truly loved him.

It's dark in his office. He couldn't believe a few hours ago you sat within the same room. He thanks the assassin sprawled out dead in the dungeons of this estate, his foolish plots gave him a reason to bring you here.

And a reason for you to save him, to show him you truly care for him. The handkerchief in his nose smells of faint iron. He could only apologize in his head for leaving you to hurt.

But he hopes you'd understand a desperate man’s attempt of making his predetermined ending feel better.]

★

You made it this time.

This time, you didn't whine about the academy's preference of stairs, instead you ran as fast as you could to a laboratory, in hand a broken piece of mirror. Your mind being more focused on the questions that lingered after your discovery at Phainon’s estate probably helped in obscuring the effects of running up at around five floors (to your estimation, at least). 

When you reached the metal doors of the lab, you didn’t even knock, you only barged in, meeting the gazes of the pink-haired scholar who helped you last time and her so-called professor who’s sporting a peculiar eyepatch. The man did not seem to mind though, as he only sighed and mouthed a ‘told ya’ to his student. The said student only awkwardly smiled and ushered you further inside the room.

“When my dear student told me about your small predicament last time, it honestly piqued my interest. I had always heard of theories about portals and such, but this is my first time actually hearing about it as an experience rather than a hypothesis. Well then, I presume what’s in your hand is the experiment sample then?” The professor with the dead stare did not even spare that to you, his eyes are only trained towards the shard that’s nearly piercing through your skin.

“Don’t mind his bluntness, my teacher is a reliable scholar first and foremost, you can entrust him with studying about this seriously, especially since he’s very interested in it. I will also be sharing the progress transparently, so don’t worry. Now, if you don’t mind, you can loosen up your grip on that broken glass, it might pierce you…again.” The scholar’s eyes trail on your bandaged hand, her gentle words made you drop the mirror into the table, your fingers pushing it towards the professor.

“If my deductions are on the right track, alchemy might be able to replicate this kind of glass. If you would give me time to construct, I’ll be sure to leave your name into the papers I will produce about this. Hehe, imagine the looks on those fools’ faces once they realize that I am, once again, correct.” He muttered, attention now more focused on assessing the shard rather than in your conversation, with that in mind, you relent from asking further questions and just trusting their words.

“If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know. Thank you for this new knowledge, kind lady.” The pink-haired scholar assures you, escorting you out of the room, it’s probably because her mentor’s starting to open five cabinets at once now. Yeah, I’ll leave that guy alone too.

“If all of these end up right and the mirror or whatever portal is made, please give me a chance to use it.”

“Of course! I thought I’ll have to drag some poor scholar down or myself in that but it’s nice to know that someone is willing to play guinea pig in this experiment.” A voice from the inside suddenly rings out.

The two of you outside the door chuckled at that.

★

Just like in the real world, learning facilities at nighttime are eerily quiet and give off a strange chill the longer you stay.

The leaves surrounding the grove are rustling along the wind’s howls. You’re starting to regret your decision of not waiting until tomorrow morning to visit. You couldn’t blame yourself though, it was the closest lead you had to going back home, but running here at nightfall wasn’t the brightest idea you had for the day.

All the scholars are probably within their dormitories now or have already gone home. The likes of that professor are stuck within the highest floors that contain their laboratories. 

If anything were to happen, nobody will be fast enough to get you out.

What the hell? Shut up. You reprimanded your unnecessary thoughts. In fact, you need to tackle a few questions that are plaguing your mind first.

Why did Phainon have this kind of item, a broken one at that, just littered on his floors. Wasn’t he a bit fussy of his collection in the novel? Why wouldn’t he notice if one of them is broken?

More popped up in your mind, unfortunately, it’s all questions and no answers.

If I’m correct, this glass belongs to that mirror he gifted me. But it’s intact, is this from another item? Another magic portal item or something?

Then, the scholar’s words rang loud and clear; “It's tampered.” 

Did Phainon…break the mirror? Did he restore it because he was too embarrassed? Or was he someone who doesn't mind alterations on his antiques?

A stupid sounding thought broke out at the back of your mind.

Did he break it because he knew something was up?

Suddenly, a breeze passes by your shoulders. At first. At first it was only a breeze, but when you looked to your side, you suddenly felt something on the other. A fabric, just brushing close enough to feel in your skin but light enough to make you question if it's real.

But now you're sure it's real, because a few moments you hear pieces of metal clanging. You looked in front of you, and just like those apparitions in horror movies, there's a figure at the end of the dimly lit hallway.

A tall figure, donned in a black cloak and armored in swirling metal plates. A mask sits inside its hood. Its fingers covered in plated claws and its chest appear to be hollow.

He looks familiar.

You stop in your tracks, senses on high-alert. He's probably the one who brushed past you and if that's correct, then he's extremely fast. No use in outrunning him then, better just keep an eye out on his movements or sources of help.

The figure also stops and stares at you. Your stand-off lasted for a short while until it tilted its head,

And waved.

At least that's what you think it did before it suddenly vanished before your eyes, nowhere to be seen or felt again.

★

Phainon has developed a habit of sending you random letters and various trinkets he got from his travels.

He also loves to initiate meetings and tea times with you. At first, you're happy to attend each and every one of them, but as time goes on, you start to question his fondness for inviting you at least every other day. 

Not that you doubt him, at least not too much — you knew his tendencies to latch on to things due to his upbringing, but you can't help but question his true motives when he just invades your personal time as if you're not an acquaintance he just met recently.

You learned to decline his invitations. You really liked his character, but you're unsure of whether you can handle being involved with him as a person. He's on his way to becoming the ruler of this vast kingdom and you're supposed to be on your way home, so not much should happen.

The invitations thinned out, albeit gradually. He still sends a lot of trinkets — such as small woodworks of cute animals and magic lamps, which are now starting to pile up on your work desk, but the letters and requests to meet do not overflow from the holder anymore. He appears to have gotten the message.

You want to go home. Sure, you loved this place and the magic it has, but the gnawing anxiety of the life you left back there is haunting your days here. If you're going to get yourself thrown into another world, you want to at least make amends in your previous one.

Speaking of going home, you're currently staring at a letter. The pale green envelope stares back, proudly displaying the logo of the academy on its seal. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for whatever the results will show.

Greetings, My Lady

I’m pleased to inform you that I was able to recreate the material you brought here last time. It was truly a magnificent experience…

The light in your eyes sparkled. I can finally go home. Your cheeks hurt grinning. You looked up to your ceiling, mentally saying farewells to the place that took you into this world.

You continue reading.

“...but unfortunately, a huge accident happened within the academy. A cloaked assailant sneaked within the grove and hurt a few scholars, aside from that, it seemed to be targeting this specific experiment. I saw with my own eyes how it shattered the mirror, almost pulverizing it. I was able to retrieve a few samples and escape but I am not sure if I'll be able to recreate it as fast…”

Now, this is why they say never celebrate too early. Disappointment eats you up, causing you to just chuck the letter away. Not time for farewells yet, you suppose.

But one thing caught your attention. Cloaked figure. That night, you also saw a figure with a similar description.

Black…cloak?

Phainon.

Many scenes of the novel involve Phainon disguising himself in a black cloak. When he assassinated the other royalty in that throne room, he was wearing a black cloak.

“Shit, why didn't I remember that sooner?” You uttered, almost inaudibly. You've been focused on going the past few days that you have forgotten the details of the novel. 

Phainon might just be the reason you're failing your attempts at returning home, and you just let yourself be too involved with him.

★

Lately, instead of you, only letters of your declines have been reaching his doors.

Phainon is growing frustrated at the replies he received. Just as when he thought the two of you were getting closer, you just had to start distancing yourself.

Did you find out something?

He laughs sardonically, his hands covering his right eye that's now turning golden due to the sudden influx of magic. He looks down at his table, the paper now ruined, too much ink seeped into it. Of course you denied it again, and somehow managed to send it to him as he's writing another invite.

He can feel it, your soul wavering. When he first brought you here, all he felt was pure amazement and curiosity from you, but now he can feel doubts and fatigue too.

“Can't you… just- ah.” He slumps his head, turning towards the small figurine he carved earlier. It's a figure of two lovebirds, perched on a small throne while nuzzling each other. Both of them were wearing a tiny crown on their heads.

Really, he tried carving your likeness more times than he'd like to admit, but there's something about you that makes it so hard for him to be satisfied with just carvings. Whatever he makes doesn't live up to his image of you in his head — feels fake, feels cold. So he just opts to present your likeness as animals and things he's fond of.

Nowadays, Phainon has been fantasizing about you joining him on his journey.

So when he felt your soul trying to break free from this world, he couldn't help but silently beg you to stay and not leave him to be alone in this world again.

★

Please, be my partner. There is an upcoming ball to the palace, you're the only one I can trust.

You never expected such a heavy statement coming from him, especially not after you just tried to keep him at an arm's length. You've even reached a point of telling him off. There was stirring conflict within you, Phainon clearly appears to be invested in your friendship, but at the same time, you're uncertain of what kind of plot he'll bring into your already bizarre situation.

However, if you keep declining him time and time again, it'll appear unusual. The two of you started on good terms, suddenly abandoning him could be seen as rude and might just make him ask more questions.

And frankly, you're running out of believable reasons for declining him.

So you push yourself up and ask the maids for help. You'll humor him this time, maybe even get to ask him why he's so dead set on sticking close to you.

★

The carriage ride to the palace is a peaceful little thing.

You looked out to the town square, the awe of being in another still hints at you, but you've gotten used to the sights by now. All your attempts at steering away from the plot ironically ended up with you driving right through the center of it.

Everything with the palace screams imposing, it's a marvelous place, but it does a good job of making you feel small. Luckily, not a lot of guards are stationed to stare down at your minute existence. But the few ones who were are staring at you oddly.

You went through normal procedures and you're escorted to the grand doors. It's closed. 

On your way here, there have been a multitude of red flags raising left and right. Firstly, it's quiet, not a single peep, not befitting of such a proud place. And for all the palace’s vanity, there's no other visitors of the same caliber, in fact there's no other visitors at all.

There was no ball.

That's your final observation. You don't know what you did so, so wrong in your stay here, but Phainon has reached a new point where he straight up lies to get your attention now.

What was so important about meeting you? When all he talks about when the two of you have your little tea parties are idle topics not worth making a palace this grand deserted.

The guards opened the door, and you're right, it's absolutely empty. There's supposed to be an option to go back, but the men outside had conveniently closed it off before you could say anything.

He really, really wants to talk, huh?

You march down deeper into the building, hoping that guesswork and acquired knowledge from the novel could bring you towards the prince’s quarters.

But before you could even reach the third set of winding hallways, you heard a loud scream coming from the central part of the floor. You froze, cold sweat forming in your temples. No, it couldn't be today right? Your heart pounds loudly, you can feel the beating in your ears.

Too early, it's years too early.

Phainon ascending to the throne couldn't be today, hell, it couldn't be this year. Because he's not yet prepared. He bought support from various kingdoms before the ascension, it's an integral part of the novel’s worldbuilding. From what you've heard from him, he only traveled within Okhema the past months.

So it shouldn't be today right?

One scream, two screams. Screams interrupted your silent denial of what's happening. There's too many, and it just got louder after the sound of a door being thrown open boomed.

I need to get out. 

You tried navigating the hallways, hunching down when the screams got louder. It died down soon though, and you managed to find yourself in an open area that looked similar to the lobby you went in from.

It's not the same lobby though.

“Going to decline my invitation again?” A voice suddenly emerges from behind. You turn towards it and you see Phainon, holding a bloody greatsword and wearing an uncanny grin on his face.

Oh his face. It's a shame that his beautiful face is so fucking bloody right now. It's dripping, some clinging to his white hair. And his white regalia — might as well be red, with how drenched it is in blood.

The scarier part is that none of it is probably his blood. He's unscathed against this many royals, they didn't stand a single chance.

So not a chance you would. He makes way towards you, you can only step back mere centimeters before finally freezing up. He stops when he's close to your form, the smell of iron almost suffocating you.

He leans down, “You're going to leave me again, aren't you?”

“What…?”

“The people you're so afraid of ruining your life, these stupid royals, I killed them all, so you don't have to be afraid.”

“How did you… fuck, you're insane-” Your words are caught in your throat when Phainon suddenly grabs you and carries you in his shoulders. You tried hitting his back, but he only holds your waist tighter and snicker at your feeble attempts of breaking free.

He walks past the dead bodies of what used to be royals. You remember the scene from the novel, the fallen figures. You only tear up, your hands fall limp, refusing to hold onto Phainon's damp attire, lest you want to squeeze out royal blood from it.

“All of these blood flowing out of them and converging into one, this might just be the purest form of the royal blood they keep prattling about!” He suddenly mentions in passing, you feel his shoulders shake from laughter.

You shuddered.

You reach the throne room, which aside from the throne, just contains multiple portraits and statues. And the bodies of the people behind those, probably.

He settles you down the grandiose throne. It feels foreign, the velvet clings to your skin, while the metal feels too cold for comfort. He kneels down, arms clamped to your waist as he leans his head down on your thighs.

“Phainon.”

“Can you say my name again?” He looks up, putting his palm on your thigh and setting his chin on top of it, his manic, golden eyes just laser-focused on yours. The color just pops out more in contrast to the red around it.

“Why are you doing this?” You didn't entertain his request, which put a slight pout on his face. He removes his head on your thighs and lifts you up again, earning a yelp from you. He then settles down to the throne and places you on his lap, his arms locking you close to his chest.

“You said, that if I needed a princess by my side, you'd be willing to take that place,” Phainon whispers, now putting his chin up on your shoulders, his head slightly leaning towards yours.

Your eyes widened, “All this time, you're aware-”

“I am. What I didn't expect was you finding those anomalous portals fast, I tried breaking them all but they kept reappearing.” He sighs, sulking a bit.

That's why. That's why he seems so relaxed about you forgetting his titles, that's why he treats you as if you're not used to the customs of Okhema, your supposed birthplace.

Because it's him that plunged you right into this world.

“What I also didn't expect is that after all your declarations that you love me and that I am your favorite, the first thing you do is to try and leave me.” He continues.

Phainon made it a point to bring you entirely here, and not just stuff your soul on some poor extra. He altered the story not for himself, but to drag you along with him into this world.

“I am not from here, Phainon, and that was clear as day to you. I have a life back there! And the love I had for you, it's because you're a character I loved reading about-”

“What I had for you was real!” Phainon suddenly exclaims, he flips your positions, hands on your shoulders as he pushes your form to the throne’s backrest. “I've always observed you, you always appear to me when I feel so down. I've known you longer than you think!”

You're speechless. He can see you? All this time.

“You love me, don't you? So why leave?” Phainon leans his forehead on your shoulders. He's now straddling you, which makes it harder to move and the smell of blood more nauseating. 

He lifts his head up, bringing his face close in front of yours, “Well it's not like you can, because yeah, it was me. All of it was me. The hand mirror? I broke it. The scholars, I just gave them a little scare. I did it all, for you… so you can't leave, not after you said you love me.” 

“I don't-” He interrupts you.

“I will kill you.” 

If there's still anxiety and fear left pent up within, it finally spilled out now. Your breath hitched at his statement, your entire body tensing up.

“My power grew to the point where I found out some… things. Did you know that if you leave your other body for too long, it'll cease to- hm, operate?” Phainon caresses your face before continuing, “If your body died there, then you'll have nothing to return to right?”

“I'm not going to kill you here, I’m killing you there, so that you'll be able to live here.”

“You're sick… You're the fucking worst, what did I ever do to you.” You broke down. Phainon responded by cradling your form and running his fingers in your hair.

“Nothing, you don't have to do anything. It's because I love you. Ah! I almost forgot,” He suddenly reaches out under his vest. He pulls out a blue velvet box and hands it to you.

His stare is expectant, so you opened the box, inside was a wooden figurine of two birds, perched on a throne that looks like the one the two of you are sitting in. You hate it. Not because it's badly made, no, actually the opposite — it's such a chillingly accurate representation of the scene you're currently in right now.

You hate what it's insinuating, you'd love to deny it, but underneath the figurine is a ring, a silver band, with a blue and yellow gem opposite of one another. The blue gem is enclosed in a moon, while the yellow one is within a sun.

Stop denying it, it's no use.

“I learned it from a jeweler who’s been working here since I was a child,” Phainon loosens his hold. He gently puts the ring on your finger. On his own is an identical one.

And as if noticing that something is missing when compared to the bird figurine, Phainon leans down and plucks something off of the floor on the throne's side. He grips the armrests as he does, caging you in, but his lowered form gives you a clearer picture of the bloodbath in the room. Gold and blues all intermingled with red.

Phainon straightens his posture again, in his hand are crowns. Two crowns.

You feel cold metal on the top of your head, in front of you Phainon also puts a crown on his. He smiles at you, so sweetly, before leaning down and sealing your fate with a passionate kiss.

That fateful day, the two of you are crowned Emperor and Empress of the kingdom.

Phainon had ascended the throne, this time, he isn't alone.

[The end.]

[seraph's note]: AWOOOOOOGH PHAINON. i am utterly devastated with 3.4 but at least brought the peak gameplay and character of my GOAT phainon. i've been enjoying on bringing him to just about any available content in-game lol.

this took waaaaaay longer than it should, i was supposed to upload it on the day i got him but i got writer's block lol. if it wasn't obvious, this is heavily based off of those isekai manhwas (that i will always eat up despite having almost the same plot everytime). the delay hopefully paid off as i channeled my inner yap god to this 11k word piece lmao. thx for reading if you managed to get to the end, love you for that, mwah.

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