Lana
Have you ever imagined what it feels like to die in the dumbest way possible?
If you ask me, I can answer with absolute certainty—it's embarrassing.
That day, I just wanted to step outside and get some fresh air. As an unemployed woman, my life was already dull enough. A simple, aimless walk seemed harmless. But somehow, my steps led me straight into the worst tragedy of my life.
Or maybe… my death?
Or maybe not? Maybe I was transported to another world—along with my real body?
Because let's be honest, no one would proudly admit to dying from this.
I slipped.
The culprit? Something that would haunt my dignity forever.
Cat poop.
This must be the work of an orange cat that pooped everywhere and didn't bury it.
Yes, you heard that right. One second, I was walking like a normal human being. The next, my foot betrayed me, sliding on that cursed pile. My body tilted back in slow motion, arms flailing uselessly, until—bam! My head met the pavement. Hard.
Everything went black.
I thought I'd wake up in a hospital, maybe with a splitting headache and a doctor hovering over me. At worst, I expected to see my mom crying while a nurse reassured her I'd be fine.
But no.
When my eyes fluttered open, there was no hospital ceiling. No sterile scent of antiseptic.
Instead—smoke. Thick, suffocating smoke stretching across the sky. And beneath it…
Blood.
The scent hit me first—metallic and sickly warm, thick enough to coat my tongue. Then came the bodies. Dozens—no, hundreds– Die, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Elves with delicate, pointed ears. Werewolves with blood-matted fur. Other creatures I couldn't even name.
My breath hitched. My stomach twisted so hard I nearly gagged.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But my body refused to move. A horrible, icy weight pressed down on my limbs, locking me in place.
Then, hands.
Strong, unyielding hands seized my arms.
I gasped, my head snapping up.
Two men stood before me. Both tall. Both with long, silvery-white hair. Both with piercing brown eyes—but that's where their similarities ended.
One had a face as cold as ice, his gaze void of emotion, like he was staring at a mere object. The other… smiled, but it wasn't comforting. If anything, it sent a chill down my spine, his amusement laced with something unreadable.
Before I could even ask what the hell was happening, they dragged me forward. My legs barely kept up as they pulled me.
A wedding altar.
Covered in blood.
My throat tightened. My breath came out in short, ragged gasps.
"W-What are you doing?!" My voice cracked as I struggled, but their grip was like iron.
Neither answered. Not until we reached the altar, where the cold one finally spoke.
"You are going to marry us." His voice was calm. Too calm.
A sharp chill shot down my spine. My lips parted in disbelief. "What?! Why would I—"
Cold metal pressed against my throat.
I froze.
The blade's edge kissed my skin, not enough to draw blood—yet. But the promise was there.
"Stay quiet," the cold one said, his voice eerily steady. "Or you'll join them."
I swallowed hard. My hands trembled, my legs threatening to give out beneath me.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.
Two evil elves stood on either side of me—one watching with detached indifference, the other smirking like this was all some twisted joke.
Damn it.
Why is my life this messed up?!
The floor beneath my shaking feet felt like ice. Cold. Unforgiving.
I stood at the altar, my legs locked in place, trapped between two tall, white-haired men who had just dragged me here without a word of explanation.
My heart pounded. My breath came in shallow gasps. My mind raced, clinging to one absurd, horrifying realization:
I was getting married?!
To two men at the same time?!
This had to be a dream. A feverish nightmare. Maybe I was in a coma after my tragic slip-and-fall accident. Yeah, that made sense. Any second now, I'd wake up in a hospital, disoriented but safe.
Just to be sure, I pinched my arm—hard.
Pain shot through my skin.
Damn it. This was real.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to look around, searching for some kind of explanation. Maybe—just maybe—a wedding officiant would pop out of nowhere and say, "Congratulations! This is just a prank for elf social media content!"
But no.
What I saw was far, far worse.
Bodies.
Dozens of them. Blood pooled around the altar, soaking into the ground like dark ink. Some corpses had fur and sharp claws—werewolves. Others had pale skin and pointed ears—elves.
My stomach twisted violently. My mouth went dry.
This wasn't just a wedding. This was a massacre.
I clutched my head as nausea churned inside me. Breathe. Don't pass out. Keep it together.
Then my gaze landed on something even worse. WORSE. WORSE.
A elf woman in a white gown.
She lay sprawled across the bloodstained ground, her delicate features frozen in an eerie stillness. Her glassy eyes stared blankly at the sky. Her chest… wasn't moving.
Oh god.
She was dead.
A sharp gasp escaped my lips. My body moved before I could think—I stumbled back, my hands trembling. My voice barely came out as a whisper. "She… she…!"
The cold-looking elf beside me turned his gaze toward the woman, then back to me. Completely unbothered. "Yes, she."
I blinked, my brain struggling to process his casual tone. "I mean, HER! Why is she lying there like… like—"
"Like a corpse?" the other elf asked, his smirk unwavering.
I nodded quickly, too shocked to argue.
"That's because she is a corpse," he said, as if discussing the weather.
I sucked in a sharp breath. Okay. OKAY.
I knew I should be running. Screaming. Calling for help.
But who the hell was I supposed to call?! Elf world police? Did this place even have a 911 emergency number?!
I forced myself to swallow past the bile rising in my throat. "W-Wait… if she was the original bride, then why am I here?!"
The cold one barely spared me a glance. "Because she's dead."
His tone was so matter-of-fact that my brain short-circuited for a second.
Wait. WAIT.
So I was… just a replacement?!
My jaw dropped, but before I could scream in protest, the cold one tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze locking onto me.
"Do you have a name, human?"
I blinked. A name? Of course, I had a name!
What, did they think I was some nameless object?!
"Lana. Lana Renata," I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady. Because really, who wouldn't be annoyed in this situation?
The smirking elf—who I was starting to suspect enjoyed making people uncomfortable—crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. "Lana, huh? That's a rather sweet name."
I scoffed. "Not that I'm happy you know it."
My gaze darted around, searching for anything—a gap, an opening, a way out, but all I saw were lifeless bodies.
No escape.
I shifted my gaze back to the two men in front of me, ignoring the warm scent of drying blood in the air. "Alright, can you please explain what the hell is going on?" I asked, trying to stay sane.
The cold one—Kaelith, if I caught his companion's name right—exhaled, his expression unreadable. Not annoyed. Not amused. Just... indifferent, like I was some paperwork he had to deal with.
"Explanations can wait," he said flatly. "The ceremony must be completed first."
My lips parted to argue, but before I could, Kaelith raised his hand.
A golden glow flickered in his palm. Symbols swirled through the air, their intricate shapes shifting and pulsing with an unnatural light. The moment the glow reached me, my entire body locked in place.
I couldn't move.
My breath hitched. My heartbeat slammed against my ribs as the light stretched toward my hand.
Run. Move. DO SOMETHING.
But I couldn't.
The warmth of the magic licked my skin, creeping up my arm. For a split second, it was oddly soothing. Then—
PAIN.
A searing, white-hot pain exploded through my palm, like someone had pressed a burning brand against it. I screamed, jerking as the heat burrowed deep into my flesh. It was over in seconds, but the sensation lingered, tingling like an aftershock.
I gasped for air, my vision swimming. My hand trembled as I turned it over, searching for the wound.
Nothing.
The mark was gone.
"What the hell—" I choked out, gripping my wrist.
"It's a magic bond," the other elf—Sylas—chimed in. His voice was way too cheerful for a man who had just branded me with magic. "You are now officially our wife. The mark stays on your body, even if it's invisible."
My pulse roared in my ears. My mouth opened, but no words came out.
Sylas continued, undeterred. "Oh, and it'll show up again if either of us is in danger."
I blinked. "What."
He grinned. "Neat, right?"
Neat?!
My fingers curled into fists. My mind scrambled to process what had just happened.
I was married.
To two evil elves.
My wedding fantasy had always been simple. A dress. A party. A beautiful ceremony.
Not this.
No dress. No party. No family invitations.
And instead of one husband—I got two.
A shaky breath escaped me. "No," I muttered. "No, no, no, this isn't happening—"
But the golden glow had already faded.
The mark was already made.
And my fate was already sealed.
Oh god. My life was completely over.
I clenched my jaw, my entire body trembling as reality crashed down on me like a landslide.
SOMEONE, PLEASE WAKE ME UP FROM THIS NIGHTMARE!
To be continued…