There were only two things Ethan Carter regretted that night
First…
Reading until three in the morning.
Second…
Opening the comments section.
He leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing his tired eyes as the final chapter of The Hero's Crown glowed on his computer screen.
"…Seriously?"
His apartment was silent except for the humming of his old fan and the occasional car passing outside.
He reread the last paragraph, hoping he'd misunderstood.
The Hero smiled peacefully beneath the executioner's blade, grateful that his sacrifice would bring peace to the kingdom.
"…That's it?" He blinked. "No resurrection?"
He refreshed the page.
Nothing.
"No secret ending?"
Still nothing.
Ethan let out a long, exhausted sigh and dropped his head onto his desk. "I stayed awake for three weeks reading this…"
He sat back up, more annoyed than tired now.
"What was the point?"
The entire novel had followed one person—Adrian Ashbourne. The orphan who became the kingdom's greatest knight. The young man who fought monsters while nobles stayed comfortably behind castle walls. The hero who lost friends, family, and years of his life protecting people who barely remembered his name.
Only to be executed after saving everyone.
Ethan still couldn't understand it. "The author seriously expected readers to like that ending?"
He clicked open the comment section. Thousands of furious readers were already arguing.
That_onepeople: "Worst ending ever."
I_need_money: "Justice for Adrian!"
Me_too: "I'm pretending the last chapter doesn't exist."
Ethan couldn't help snorting. "At least I'm not the only one." He cracked his knuckles and began typing.
One Star.
" Worst ending ever. What was the point of him being a hero just for him to be executed. If I somehow ended up in that world, I'd save Adrian myself. At least one person should actually care whether the hero lives."
He hit Post.
"There." He closed his laptop with a satisfied nod. "I'm done." Stretching, he shuffled toward his bed. "I have work tomorrow…"
He barely managed to pull the blanket over himself before sleep claimed him.
⸻
"…"
"…"
Something was wrong.
Before Ethan even opened his eyes, he noticed the silence.
No Alarm.
No humming fan.
No distant traffic.
No neighbor stomping around upstairs.
It was…
Too quiet.
He frowned.
"…What time is it?"
His voice sounded oddly muffled.
Still half asleep, he reached for his phone toward his bedside table. His hand met empty air.
"Hm?" His eyes slowly opened.
He stared at the ceiling.
Dark wooden beams crossed above him, decorated with elegant carvings.
Golden light streamed through stained-glass windows.
For several long seconds…
His mind remained completely blank.
"…"
"This isn't my room."
He sat upright.
The blanket sliding off his shoulders felt unusually heavy. The mattress beneath him was impossibly soft. His gaze swept across the room.
Velvet curtains.
Marble flooring.
An ornate fireplace.
Shelves filled with leather-bound books.
Furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum.
"…"
He didn't move.
His thoughts refused to catch up with what he was seeing.
"No…"
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"This has to be a dream."
He shut his eyes.
Took a slow breath.
Then another.
"Wake up."
Nothing happened.
He waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Slowly…
He opened his eyes again.
The room hadn't changed.
A strange knot formed in his stomach.
"…Okay."
He swallowed.
"I'm still dreaming."
That explanation made sense.
It had to.
Dreams could feel realistic sometimes.
.
.
.
Right?
He slid off the bed.
The moment his bare feet touched the marble floor, he flinched.
Cold.
He could actually feel the chill against his skin. His heartbeat sped up.
"This feels…"
Too real.
He walked across the room, each step hesitant. The polished floor reflected the morning sunlight. His fingertips brushed against the wooden desk.
Solid.
Real.
His breathing grew uneven.
"No…"
His eyes landed on a tall mirror near the wardrobe.
He stopped.
Something inside him didn't want to look. Yet he couldn't stop himself.
One step.
Then another.
Until he stood before the mirror. A stranger looked back. Crimson hair, slightly messy from sleep. Warm amber eyes. A youthful face—perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old.
Not him.
Ethan stared.
The stranger stared back.
"…Who…"
The word caught in his throat. He slowly raised a hand. The reflection copied him perfectly.
"Huh."
His fingers touched his cheek.
Smooth.
He grabbed a lock of red hair.
Soft.
Real.
His own hair had been black.
He knew that.
Didn't he?
His breathing became noticeably faster.
He stepped backward.
"This isn't funny. I'm asleep."
His voice sounded different.
Higher.
Younger.
"I'm asleep."
The stranger in the mirror continued watching him. His pulse thundered in his ears.
"Wake up." He shut his eyes tightly.
"Come on…"
When he opened them again…
The room remained exactly the same.
His stomach sank.
⸻
Knock.
Knock.
"Young master?"
The sudden voice outside the door made Ethan jump. He turned sharply toward it. Someone was there.
Before he could answer—
The door opened.
A woman in a neatly pressed maid's uniform stepped inside carrying folded clothes. She smiled warmly.
"Good morning, Young Master Lucien."
…
Young Master…
Lucien?
Ethan stared blankly.
The maid tilted her head. "Young Master?"
"…"
"…Who?"
The maid blinked. "I'm sorry?"
Ethan immediately realized he'd spoken out loud. "N-Nothing."
The maid chuckled softly. "You must still be sleepy." She placed the clothes on the bed.
"Breakfast is ready whenever you are young master." She paused near the doorway.
"Oh, and your carriage will leave in an hour." Her smile widened. "It wouldn't do to be late for your first day at the Royal Academy."
Royal…
Academy…
The words echoed inside Ethan's head.
Something clicked.
A memory.
Not his own. A title. A novel.
His face slowly drained of color.
"…Royal Academy…"
The maid noticed his expression. "Young Master? Are you feeling unwell?"
"I…"
He couldn't finish.
She looked concerned for a moment before giving a small bow. "I'll prepare some tea."
The door closed.
Silence returned.
Ethan remained frozen where he stood.
Royal Academy.
Lucien.
Crimson hair.
His gaze slowly lifted toward the family portrait hanging above the fireplace.
Three people smiled from within the gilded frame.
The red-haired boy.
A stern-looking nobleman.
A gentle woman.
Below the portrait was an engraved plaque.
House Veris
His mind went completely blank.
"…Veris."
His lips moved before he realized it.
"Lucien…"
He remembered.
Lucien Veris.
A background noble. A character with almost no importance. Someone mentioned only a handful of times before disappearing from the story.
"…No."
His breathing quickened again. "I know this name." He backed away from the portrait. "I read this."
His thoughts became increasingly frantic.
The Hero's Crown.
That's impossible.
"I'm not…"
He looked at his own hands.
Slim.
Pale.
Not his.
"I'm not Lucien."
The words sounded weak even to himself.
"I'm Ethan."
His heartbeat refused to slow.
"How…" He looked around. "Why…"
"Did I die?"
He couldn't remember.
He remembered going to sleep.
That was it.
Nothing after that.
His parents.
His apartment.
His job.
His old life.
Everything felt so close…
Yet impossibly far away.
"I have to go back."
He looked around the room as if there would be a hidden door leading home.
"There has to be…"
His sentence cut off.
A sudden pressure bloomed behind his eyes. He frowned. "…What?"
The pressure became pain.
Sharp.
Violent.
Like invisible hands were forcing something into his skull.
He sucked in a sharp breath. "Ngh—"
The pain exploded.
His knees buckled. He caught himself against the edge of the bed before collapsing completely. His vision blurred. Thousands of unfamiliar images flooded his mind. A little boy running through flower gardens.
Magic lessons.
Sword practice he never enjoyed.
Birthday celebrations.
His mother's smile.
His father's stern lectures.
Snow falling outside the Veris estate.
A favorite reading spot beneath an old oak tree. None of it belonged to Ethan. Yet every memory felt painfully real.
His head throbbed.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Stop…"
More memories came.
Names.
Faces.
Voices.
Servants greeting him.
Teachers praising him.
Grief.
Loneliness.
Hope.
Emotions that weren't his wrapped around his own until he couldn't tell where one life ended and another began.
His breathing became ragged.
"This…"
He pressed both hands against his temples.
"It hurts…"
The memories kept coming.
Faster.
Then…
As suddenly as it had begun… Everything stopped.
The room fell silent once more.
Ethan remained kneeling on the floor, breathing heavily.
His head still ached.
His entire body felt strangely heavy.
He slowly opened his eyes.
Without thinking, he looked toward the bookshelf.
"I need to get my book ready.."
The thought appeared naturally.
He froze.
"…"
That…
Wasn't his thought.
He knew where every room in this mansion was.
He knew the names of every servant.
He knew which flowers Lucien's mother loved.
He knew…
Because they were Lucien's memories now.
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
He whispered into the empty room,
"…I'm really here."
At that exact moment—
Ding.
A cheerful chime echoed through the room.
A glowing blue screen appeared in front of him.
Ethan's eyes widened.
"…What now?"
The screen flickered.
Then bright letters appeared.
"Hero Saving System Activated"
Welcome, Host Ethan Carter.