My name is Ren.

  Ren Amel.

  I squeezed my hands as I said it. There I was, staring back at myself in the mirror. I was wearing my brand-new formal suit. My naturally black hair looked almost brown under the pale morning light. Today is my first day of work.

  It took me a whole year to find a job. Between calls that went nowhere and fake job listings, I'd been through it all. But that ends today. I smoothed my hair back. Starting today, I'm a junior writer at a publishing house.

  The suit's a little tight, admittedly, and it smells like a thrift store find—the kind of jacket you dig out from the back of a rack and convince yourself looks intentional. But I looked professional. I adjusted my tie one last time and smiled at my reflection.

  "I'm the best at what I do."

  I turned away from the mirror. My apartment was small, but it felt like home, or at least I told myself that. The unmade bed sat half a meter from the kitchen, and vice versa. The only wall with any personality was lined with my reason for living: a shelf packed with every volume of Arcane Hearts, alongside a mix of manga and light novels.

  My eyes drifted to the books. Just seeing them made me happy in a way that was hard to explain. They brought me back to my darkest years—the years these books had kept me going and given me something to hold onto. Even now, when I should be thinking about my first day of work...

  I walked toward them.

  "Four years," I said softly, smiling at the first volume, a little dusty now. "Four years following your story, chapter by chapter."

  I turned it over to see the full cover. Amanda stood beneath cherry blossoms in Hirus's signature blue uniform. Behind her, barely visible in the shadows, three male silhouettes of different builds. I opened the book to a random page. Page 67. Chapter 2: First Class.

  The words were as familiar as a song I'd listened to a thousand times but never got tired of hearing.

  *"The crowd was so thick, not even the light could get through..."*

  I closed the book before the nostalgia could swallow me whole. I was running out of time, but I could at least let myself remember while I got ready to leave.

  I was sixteen when I first found Arcane Hearts. Those were rough years. My parents were gone, and the aunt and uncle who took me in quietly handed me my own place—out of their way, out of their lives. New city. No friends. Just me.

  One sleepless night, I found it.

  Arcane Hearts Academy, on Wattphone. Brand new. Only three chapters up, and I was already hooked.

  It wasn't a perfect novel. Critics tore it apart. But it was mine. My escape.

  Amanda was exactly who I was: someone trying to find where they belonged. It clicked with me in a way nothing else ever had.

  My life found a rhythm. Every Wednesday at eight in the evening, Ji-Eusen124 posted a new chapter. By 8:05, I'd already devoured it. I'd reread it picking apart every detail, leaving long comments in the forum, writing theories nobody asked for.

  And sometimes, Ji-Eusen would write back.

  I still have a screenshot of one of her messages saved in my phone:

  *"Thank you for reading, Renzo92. You make it worth it. I hope we get to meet someday."*

  That message pulled me through more than I'd like to admit.

  I shook my head and forced myself back to reality. I laced up my shoes, took one last deep breath, and headed out.

  "Stay focused, Ren."

  ??◇?

  The news hit me on my first day of work. What followed was the least masculine scream I have ever produced. During lunch, I'd joined a few coworkers who had taken me under their wing as the new guy. One of them asked for my number to add me to the work group chat.

  I was about to unlock my phone when I remembered.

  My wallpaper. My profile picture.

  I immediately grabbed my stomach, doubled over like I was about to be sick, and excused myself to the bathroom as fast as I could without breaking into a full sprint.

  "All of this because I didn't change my profile picture," I muttered, pushing open the bathroom door.

  The second I unlocked my phone, a notification was already waiting.

  *"Arcane Hearts has an update..."*

  I hesitated. Then I talked myself into it. Just one second.

  I opened the app. The library loaded.

  At the top of the screen, a red banner stretched across the page.

  [SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT]

  My heart stopped.

  *Click.*

  Special Announcement!

  We are thrilled to announce that the beloved web novel 'Arcane Hearts' by Ji-Eusen124 will be serialized as a webtoon edition by Editorial Moonlight.

  Release Date: May 15th

  Pre-orders available: [LINK]

  ??◇?

  I read it twice.

  Three times.

  Four.

  My hands were shaking. And then the scream came out of me like something my soul had been holding back for years.

  Someone knocked on the stall from outside.

  "Sorry," I managed.

  I did a small, contained victory dance and read the announcement again.

  I pressed my lips together to keep from screaming a second time, grinning at the screen like an idiot.

  I opened the web novel.

  "Just one chapter," I whispered.

  ??◇? ARCANE HEARTS ??◇?

  Synopsis: Amanda Syhr never believed in destiny. As the top student of her generation, she put her faith in hard work—not luck.

  But the day she walks through the gates of Hirus Academy—the most prestigious magic school on the continent—destiny has other plans.

  One accidental collision. Three impossible encounters.

  Marc, the charismatic heir who always keeps a pink flower in his pocket. Andrew, the red-haired fighter whose burning temper hides far more than he lets on. Derbi, the solitary prodigy who reads by starlight.

  Between invocation classes, arcane duels, and a conspiracy threatening to tear Hirus apart from the inside, Amanda will learn that the oldest magic can't be found in any textbook.

  Sometimes, the heart has a magic all its own.

  Status: COMPLETED

  Chapters:

  Epilogue

  Chapter 120: For Eternity.

  Chapter 119: Amanda Syhr.

  Chapter 118: Day's Entry.

  I scrolled through the chapter list. Every title was a memory. Chapter 45: The Confession in the Rain. Chapter 67: The Student Council Duel. Chapter 89: When the Stars Weep.

  I reached the top.

  Chapter 1: The Gates of Hirus.

  I tapped it with a mix of excitement and something softer. Nostalgia, maybe. The screen flickered and loaded a blank page.

  I tapped again.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Nothing.

  The screen stayed frozen on the chapter title, the text refusing to load.

  "What...?" I frowned, closing the app and reopening it. Still nothing.

  "Maybe the server's down?" I muttered, checking my signal. Five full bars.

  I was just about to give up and head back before my coworkers thought I'd fallen in, when a blinding flash of light erupted from my phone screen.

  Not the usual blue glow of the display. This was white. Intense. Like someone had aimed a floodlight directly at my face.

  "What—" I shut my eyes on instinct, but the light pushed right through my eyelids. My fingers stopped responding. The phone felt fused to my hand, like it had been soldered to my skin.

  A smell crept into the bathroom. Strange. Sweet and bitter at the same time. Like burnt flowers mixed with... tea?

  That made no sense.

  The sounds of the bathroom—the hum of fluorescent lights, the drip of a faucet, the muffled noise of the office beyond the door—slowed down and faded out. In their place: birdsong. Melodies I didn't recognize. Wind moving through leaves somewhere far away.

  "This isn't happening," I said. My voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.

  The light began to pull back. The white slowly gave way to blurry shapes. I blinked, trying to focus.

  The surface under my hands wasn't cold plastic anymore. It was soft. Velvety. My dress shoes—the ones I'd polished so carefully that morning—weren't on damp bathroom tiles. They were sinking slightly into something thick. Like a heavy rug.

  "Huh?"

  My vision cleared.

  I wasn't in the bathroom.

  I was in a room that belonged in a European museum. Limestone walls hung with hand-embroidered tapestries. Wine-red velvet curtains framed arched windows. Real sunlight—warm, golden, nothing like fluorescent—streamed in and caught the dust motes floating lazily in the air.

  And sitting across from me, perfectly poised in a high-backed chair, was a woman.

  Her hair was long and silky, a shade of blonde so pale it was almost white, catching the light like spun gold. Her skin was flawless, almost porcelain. She wore something that could only be described as a white priestess gown, embroidered in silver thread that traced constellation patterns across the fabric.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  In her delicate hands, a steaming cup of tea.

  She was watching me with lavender eyes—an impossible color, one that didn't exist naturally in any human being—and smiling with the calm of someone who had been expecting me.

  "Hello, Ren," she said, her voice soft but clear, gesturing for me to come closer. "Welcome."

  My brain was overheating. I tried to process what I was seeing. Drugs? I'd never touched anything. A dream? I pinched my arm. It hurt. A stress-induced psychotic break on my first day of work? Too soon to rule out.

  The woman took a quiet sip of tea and waited while I had my crisis on the floor.

  Eventually I managed to get to my feet. My legs were unsteady. The second-hand suit suddenly felt absurd in a place like this.

  "Where... where am I?" The words scraped out of my throat.

  "My heaven," she said simply, as though that covered it. She set her cup down with a soft clink. "Sit down, Ren. We have a lot to talk about."

  There was an empty chair across from her, on the other side of a small round marble table. A silver teapot sat on it, along with a second cup, already waiting.

  My feet moved before I made a decision. Whether it was automatic politeness or the part of me that had already accepted this was real, I wasn't sure. I sat across from her and tried not to look as wrecked as I felt.

  "So..." I cleared my throat. "Who are you?"

  It was a loaded question. Somewhere in the back of my brain—the part that had absorbed too many web novels—a theory had already taken shape. Mysterious woman. Impossible location. Sudden transportation. This was exactly like—

  She smiled. Like she could hear what I was thinking.

  "I'm Nicole," she said, her tone gentle but certain. "The Goddess of Art."

  My expression didn't move. My brain had already filled in the answer three seconds before she finished the sentence.

  "Right," I said, rubbing my chin. "So I'm going to be sent to another world full of magic and fantasy to complete some kind of epic mission. Is that about it?"

  Nicole blinked. She tilted her head and looked at me like I was a particularly strange insect.

  "You're... not scared?" she asked, hand drifting to her cheek, eyebrows raised.

  "It's textbook web novel setup," I said, shrugging. "I've read this scene a thousand times. Mysterious woman, check. Impossible location, check. Magical transportation, check. All that's missing is you telling me I have a hidden power or a game system."

  The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

  Nicole stared at me, mouth slightly open, her perfect goddess composure cracked into something far more human: complete disbelief.

  She turned her face to the side, still watching me out of the corner of her eye.

  Then something clicked. Her expression lit up like a light switch flipping on. She straightened in her seat.

  "I'm the author of Arcane Hearts Academy," she said. "Ji-Eusen124. That's me."

  The world stopped.

  My mind went blank. My heart forgot to beat. Whatever was holding my consciousness together began to come apart.

  I shot to my feet so fast the chair nearly toppled. I crossed the room in three steps, took her hands in mine, and dropped to my knees in front of her.

  "Thank you," I said, and my voice broke apart. "Thank you for writing something so beautiful."

  The tears came before I could stop them. Four years of emotions I hadn't known I was holding back—chapters that had kept me going on my worst nights, characters who had felt more real than most of the people in my actual life—all of it came out at once.

  "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

  My sobs filled the room. Nicole had gone completely red, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. This clearly wasn't the reaction she'd been expecting. Not after getting a casual "right" when she announced she was a goddess.

  But meeting a goddess was one thing.

  Meeting the author of my favorite novel was something else entirely.

  This really was heaven.

  ??◇?

  After a long stretch of gratitude and ugly crying that probably echoed through every corner of her heaven, I finally pulled myself back together. I settled into my chair, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my second-hand suit.

  "Sorry," I said, staring at my clenched hands in my lap.

  "It's fine," Nicole replied, though the slight look of exasperation as she fixed her hair said otherwise. Her cheeks were still pink. "I didn't bring you here for nothing. I need to ask you something."

  I looked up immediately.

  This was it. Something completely ridiculous and worthy of a web novel was actually happening to me.

  I might start crying again.

  "What is it?" I asked, leaning forward.

  Nicole took a long sip of tea. Then she set the cup down with a soft clink and looked me in the eye.

  "I need you to go to Arcane Hearts Academy."

  Silence.

  I blinked once. Twice.

  "Sorry?" My eyebrows climbed toward my hairline. "How exactly am I supposed to go to a nov—"

  I stopped.

  Oh. I get it. I'll be one of those protagonists who knows the whole story in advance and has to survive by steering the heroes away from their deaths.

  Nicole, you generous deity. You brought me here to save everyone.

  I kept my expression bright and expectant, fully convinced this was some kind of divine trial. The kind where the mysterious mentor says something cryptic just to see how you handle it.

  "Ah, right," Nicole said casually, and snapped her fingers.

  The sound landed like a quiet thunderclap.

  Everything shifted.

  The golden light in the room flickered. The tapestries on the walls blurred, like someone had smeared a filter over reality. Then, with a soft televisual *pop*, everything settled again.

  But something was different.

  The teapot on the table was new. The tea in Nicole's cup steamed like it had just been poured. Even the dust motes were floating in slightly different patterns.

  "What...?" My voice came out thin.

  "There we go," Nicole said, as casually as someone changing a TV channel. "We're at the release of Chapter 1. Five years back."

  The smile I was wearing started trembling at the edges.

  "What?" I said, voice climbing. "What do you mean we—"

  "We time-traveled," Nicole said, taking another calm sip of tea.

  Something in my brain gave out.

  I grabbed her white tunic and started shaking her.

  "What the hell?" I said. "Gods aren't supposed to just do that. That's not how it works. How— why— WHAT?"

  "C-c-calm down, Ren!" Nicole sputtered, her head rattling with each shake, all divine composure completely gone. "I-I need your h-help—"

  I let go immediately, suddenly aware that I had just physically assaulted a deity.

  I sat back down. Tried to look composed. Or at least not completely unhinged.

  Nicole caught her breath and smoothed out her hair. She looked remarkably human when she was disheveled.

  "Your passion for Arcane Hearts caught my attention," she said finally, still slightly dazed. She straightened up, reclaiming some of her divine bearing. "I want to have fun, so I was thinking I'd rewrite Arcane Hear—"

  "So you want my help making the novel better?" I interrupted, jumping to my feet so fast the chair scraped the floor. I pressed a hand to my chest. "You've come to exactly the right person. As a junior writer at a publishing house, I can offer structural feedback, character analysis, narrative pacing—"

  "No," Nicole cut me off, face completely flat. Absolute poker face. "That's not what I want."

  I sat back down. Slowly.

  "After the ending... all these worlds, all my stories—" Nicole glanced downward. "I've lost the joy in them. I can't find what made them fun anymore. But someone like you still can. So I want you to entertain me."

  "What kind of entertainment?" I asked carefully.

  Nicole laughed. Low, almost under her breath, but I caught every bit of it. The laugh of someone who knows exactly what's coming and is savoring every second of your confusion.

  "You're going to live inside Arcane Hearts Academy," she said, with a smile that would've been angelic if not for that laugh.

  "What?" I processed the words. Then processed them again. And then an entirely wrong image took shape in my head. A skirt. A blue uniform. Long hair. "Wait. I don't want to be a girl."

  My face went red. Catastrophically red.

  A sound broke across the entire room.

  PFFFT—

  Nicole spat her tea. It came out in a perfect arc, splattering the white tablecloth and catching the side of my face.

  And then she laughed. Properly laughed—bent over the table, shoulders shaking, tears running down her cheeks.

  "What is wrong with you?" she wheezed between breaths. "Did you seriously think— No. Obviously I wouldn't send you as a girl."

  "Oh." My voice came out very small.

  I want to cease to exist.

  It took Nicole a solid minute to settle down. She poured herself more tea with hands that were still slightly unsteady from laughing.

  "So I'll be one of the main characters, then?" I tried, reaching for any shred of dignity.

  "No," Nicole said immediately, sipping her tea like she hadn't just shattered my last hope. "That would be boring. You'd win too easily."

  "Then... what will I be?"

  Nicole set her cup down. She looked straight at me, and her smile turned quietly wicked.

  "A background character."

  My right eye twitched. Once. Twice.

  "Say that again," I said, smiling warmly. A smile that had absolutely nothing to do with how my eye was behaving.

  "A background character," Nicole repeated, completely calm, sipping her tea like she hadn't just sentenced me to narrative irrelevance.

  "And what exactly is a background character supposed to do?" My eye was twitching faster now. I probably looked unwell.

  Another sip.

  "I'm not sure," she said. "But humans write about it all the time. It seemed fun."

  Silence settled between us.

  She had a point, technically. There were hundreds of stories about someone slipping into their favorite novel as a nobody and somehow becoming the most memorable person in the world.

  When you put it that way, it's not the worst deal.

  Except.

  In web novel terms, background character meant disposable character number forty-seven who dies in chapter three to establish how dangerous the villain is.

  I breathed out slowly, holding everything in, because I was not going to lose it in front of my favorite author.

  "What do you want me to do, then?" I asked, keeping my voice level.

  Nicole brought a finger to her cheek, tilting her head like she was deciding what to order at a restaurant.

  "Here," she said, eyes brightening. "Say 'OPEN'."

  "Open?" I repeated.

  "OPEN," she said again, making a gesture like she was pulling back an invisible curtain.

  "...Open."

  A window appeared in front of me.

  Not a figure of speech. An actual floating window, translucent, navy blue with glowing edges, hovering in the air between us like something out of an RPG. It blinked softly.

  Text filled the screen:

  ---

  WELCOME, READER: REN AMEL

  ---

  "What is this?" I reached out and touched it. My fingers passed through like smoke, but I felt a faint resistance—like pressing against the surface of water.

  "Hmm?" Nicole tilted her head. "Exactly what it looks like. A system."

  Of course. A system.

  The window expanded:

  ---

  READER SYSTEM

  STATUS: A rock is more famous than you. (And that's being generous.)

  POPULARITY CONTEST:

  - Current Rank: #500 of 500

  ORIGINAL FIDELITY: 100%

  BOOKMARKS: 3/3

  ---

  I read it twice. Three times. Each time, more questions piled up.

  "What's the Popularity Contest? And Original Fidelity?" I asked, pointing at the terms.

  Nicole's whole demeanor shifted. She stood up, crossed her arms, blew her bangs out of her face, and struck a pose that could only be described as: guy who's been unemployed for six months explaining a video game.

  She kind of looks like me.

  "The Popularity Contest ran during the entire time the web novel was being published," she began, in a tone that sounded rehearsed. "It's how I decided which characters lived and which ones didn't—"

  It had always been one of the most divisive aspects of Arcane Hearts. Critics called the deaths of beloved secondary characters cheap manipulation—filler designed to manufacture emotion without earning it. But plenty of readers argued the opposite: life doesn't only hit the main characters hard. Everyone has a story worth grieving.

  "Hold on," I cut her off, voice going flat. "Are you telling me that if I'm not in the top thirty most popular characters... you'll kill me?"

  Nicole puffed out her cheeks.

  "Yes," she said, cheeks still puffed, which undercut the death threat considerably. "And Original Fidelity means you can't change more than fifty percent of the story. If you do, I'll kill you for wrecking my work."

  She paused for dramatic effect.

  She didn't get one.

  "Figured," I said, resting my chin on my hand.

  Nicole deflated with a small, annoyed sigh and dropped back into her chair.

  My favorite author was upset that I'd seen through her big reveal.

  This was genuinely surreal.

  "I'm sorry," I said, trying to mean it. "But I still don't know what the Bookmarks do."

  She turned her back on me, blonde hair sweeping dramatically with the motion.

  "Figure it out," she said.

  I pressed my hands together and bowed toward her like a monk making an offering.

  "I couldn't possibly manage without the guidance of such a magnificent goddess," I said, laying it on thick.

  Nicole glanced back at me from the corner of her eye.

  "Hmm," she let out, but the corner of her mouth was moving.

  "Please. I need the wisdom of Ji-Eusen124 herself—creator of worlds, architect of hearts, the brilliant mind behind Arcane Hearts Academy—"

  "Alright, alright," she turned back around with a full grin. She definitely liked being flattered. "Fine. The great Goddess will make an exception for this hopeless human."

  "You are too kind, your divine majes—"

  "Bookmarks," Nicole began, slipping back into explanation mode. "You have three. If you push the story past fifty percent change, I'll rewind you a few hours. You only get three uses. After that—"

  She drew her thumb slowly across her throat.

  "Gone."

  "Oh, understood, thank your majes—" The words died. My brain caught up. "Wait. Gone as in dead? Again?"

  My face stayed calm. On the inside, it was falling apart in slow motion.

  "Yes," Nicole said with a sweet smile that stopped well short of her eyes. "Otherwise where's the fun?"

  "So to survive, I need to stay popular and keep the story mostly intact," I said.

  "Exactly," she said, with a smile and a small wink.

  I bit down on my tongue until I tasted iron. Two conditions standing between me and death. What kind of situation is this?

  "Ha..." The laugh came out hollow. "If I die in the novel, that's it. That's real death."

  "Obviously," Nicole touched her cheek, head tilting with genuine puzzlement, like I'd asked if rain was wet.

  The blood was close to the surface now. I was holding everything together by sheer stubbornness.

  "What if I say no?"

  "Then you die, obviously." Nicole's smile turned almost fond. "You're sharp, but only in short bursts, aren't you?"

  The blood reached the edge. My tongue was going to need a few days to recover. But I kept my face neutral.

  My favorite author was an overgrown child with godlike power and no concept of empathy.

  "Fine," I said at last, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm in."

  "Yes!" Nicole launched into a full spin around the room, bouncing like she'd just been handed the best gift of her life. Her white gown billowed with every turn. The only thing making any of this bearable was the faint smell of tea that followed her everywhere.

  "When do I start?" I asked flatly.

  She stopped, finger to her chin.

  "Now?" More statement than question. Then, without waiting for an answer, she was bouncing again.

  "Now? Isn't that a little fast?" The questions came out in a rush. "And who am I supposed to be? Am I a good person in this world? Bad? What does 'entertaining' even mean to you? How strict is the fifty percent rule? Do the Bookmarks carry over? Is there any kind of tutorial?"

  "The story will run exactly as written," Nicole answered mid-bounce. "You're the only thing that doesn't belong. The only new variable."

  "So I can do whatever I want, as long as I stay under fifty percent and keep enough people interested to survive. That's the deal."

  "That's the deal." She finally landed back in her chair, picked up her tea, and recovered that composed, divine air she'd started with. "And if you pull it off, I'll let you stay or send you home. Your choice."

  My thoughts went quiet for a moment. Four years, by the story's canon. That was how long Amanda spent at the academy before graduation and everything that came after.

  Four years. Give or take.

  "Actually," I said, letting a small smile through. "I can't just go in empty-handed. I need something."

  "Why?" She raised an eyebrow. "You already know the entire story. Isn't that enough of an advantage?"

  "Maybe. But knowing the plot doesn't help much when I have no magic, no combat training, and no reason for anyone to believe I belong there. I'm a regular person who edits manuscripts for a living."

  "Ahh." Nicole made a face like a deflated balloon. "What do you want, then?"

  "The novels," I said. "I want the volumes, and I want a familiar. I'm going to be an invoker."

  "Fine," Nicole pointed upward, and four books dropped from the ceiling, each one as thick as a forearm. "But that's all you're getting."

  "That's all I'll need."

  Invokers were among the most respected practitioners in that world, after all.

  "Cheat," she muttered, barely audible.

  "Alright," I said, straightening up and trying to sound more certain than I felt. "Send me."

  "I'll message you. And I'm sending along a little companion," Nicole said, raising both arms toward the ceiling in some kind of elaborate summoning gesture.

  "What do you mean you'll message me—" The light swallowed the rest of my sentence whole.

  The smell of tea and flowers disappeared, replaced by something sharper—burnt wool. A golden light poured out from Nicole and flooded everything, warm and blinding, like sinking into a sea of liquid sun.

  The velvet under my feet vanished.

  The room dissolved like ink dropped in water.

  And the silence of her heaven gave way to something completely different.

  Voices. Dozens, then hundreds. Footsteps. The unmistakable sound of a crowd moving with somewhere to be.

  The smell shifted entirely. Damp grass. Fresh stone. And—was that a cat?

  When my eyes finally adjusted, the world had changed completely.

  Enormous iron gates rose in front of me, forged with constellation patterns and runes that caught the light. Beyond them, white marble buildings climbed toward the sky like cathedrals that had grown too tall for their own ambitions.

  Hirus Academy, on the edge of Verend.

  Exactly the way I'd imagined it for four years.