Arrived

Aprilis 15th, morning.

Morning sunlight pierced through the tall windows of the seaside hotel room, painting the ocean in a pale red hue. The water beyond the glass looked calm, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for the day ahead.

"Now?" I asked, my voice low and tired. My eyes felt heavy, my thoughts even heavier. I hadn't slept all night. Every possible move, every potential betrayal, every variable of the upcoming Gambit kept circling in my head, and of course I couldn't stop it, this was simply how I was wired.

Vashtun was already standing, casually slinging both my bags over one shoulder. He looked at me, his voice calm but firm. "The ship's waiting at the private dock. The crowd's already boarding. Time to leave, Welt."

I sat up and rubbed my temples. "Alright. Thanks for carrying my things. Lead the way."

He let out a quiet snort, muttering, "At least you can still give orders even half-asleep."

The air outside the hotel was colder than I expected, the smell of salt hitting me as we descended the stone steps. This wasn't Clockthon, there was no factory smoke, no heavy perfume lingering in the streets. Only saltwater and the faint scent of fresh fish.

The wooden planks of the dock creaked beneath our brisk steps. The clock read 5:20 a.m., and the ship was set to depart at 5:34. Other passengers, mostly heirs of noble houses and their escorts, stood in small clusters, whispering quietly as servants loaded their belongings.

"Vashtun," I asked as we walked, keeping my tone even despite my exhaustion, "is this your first time leaving the mainland?"

He shifted the bags on his shoulder, not looking at me. "Technically, my second. I went to the Republic of Zarovgard once, when I was five. That was… the year 1735 by the Eastern calendar."

"That's a while back," I said, though the year barely registered. Dates rarely mattered here. What mattered were outcomes.

We reached the boarding line for a sleek steamship, larger and far more luxurious than most I'd seen. We handed our disposable tickets to the attendant, who gave a brief bow and waved us aboard.

The first-class cabin was far, far more comfortable than I'd expected. Two beds sat apart on opposite walls, neatly made with white sheets. A polished mahogany table stood in the center, and a private bathroom was tucked behind a carved door. The air smelled faintly of cedar and polished brass.

"How much did this cost you?" I asked, dropping onto one of the beds, feeling its softness absorb my weight.

"Fifty gryn for a nine-hour trip," Vashtun said casually, lighting a cigar and exhaling toward the round window. "Worth it, compared to being crammed in with minor nobles on the lower deck."

The price didn't faze me. For a trip tied directly to the Gambit, a fee like that was expected.

"Do they have a cargo ship for horses or equipment?" I asked, my voice growing heavier as fatigue set in.

"They do. But it's over three times the price, around a hundred sixty gryn. The animals need handlers, special rations, guards. Not worth it unless you're trying to show off."

I lay back, my eyes slowly closing as the rhythmic sound of waves against the hull lulled me toward sleep. "Wake me when we arrive. I need to shut my brain off for a while."

"That's on you for not sleeping last night, kid," Vashtun said with a short laugh.

"We're only five years apart, Vasht. You're not that much older than my old friends," I muttered. "Important people go to bed late too, don't they?"

His laughter faded into the background as I let the bed pull me under.

...…

In the dream.

Cold air, laced with the sharp stench of gunpowder. I opened my eyes and stood atop a half-collapsed building. Below me, Seoul was burning. Flames licked the horizon, black smoke twisting up into a dim sky.

This wasn't a memory, not entirely. Everything I saw was a reconstruction, my subconscious dragging me back.

"It's been a while," I muttered to the empty rooftop. "My home, and my hell."

I looked at my hands. Cheon Donghwan's hands. Eighteen years old, just as I remembered. My black hair draped over my shoulders, my brown eyes glowing with a fury I hadn't felt in years.

"How long has it been since the first plan started? Fifty days? I can't even count anymore."

"Donghwan-ssi! I heard our operation made the evening broadcast!"

That voice. I turned quickly. Too familiar… The name surfaced after a few seconds, dredged up from a past that should've stayed buried. Shin Jeonghyeok. My only ally after I became a fugitive and a terrorist. His bleached blond hair stood out against the burning cityscape.

"Good," I said, forcing a thin smile.

He tilted his head, eyeing me sharply. "You're unusually calm today. Lost your mind, or just getting used to it?"

"Neither," I replied quietly. "Do you remember our goal before all this?"

"Of course! Our goal is to ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■, and you were planning to ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ too!"

Crack.

A sudden, stabbing pain tore through my skull. The world spun. Jeonghyeok's voice broke apart into something harsh, screeching in a way that felt like it was slicing through my ears.

And there it was again. That figure. Cloaked in black, crowned with constellations of darkness. The being that had haunted me since my death.

"Are you truly bold enough to abandon your duty as the Heir of ▓▓▓▓-▓▓▓▓-▓▓▓▓▓▓?" Its voice wasn't human. Not even a voice, really, it drilled into my skull like something deliberately tearing at my eardrums. "If you keep repeating the same mistakes, death will no longer be your escape."

The figure vanished, but fragments of its censored words lingered, as did the pain, slowly fading.

"Donghwan-ssi! Can you hear me?" Jeonghyeok's voice pulled me back. His hand gripped my shoulder, his face pale with worry.

"Yes. I hear you," I said, forcing myself calm. "What did you say earlier?"

He frowned. "You blanked out mid-sentence. Your eyes went empty. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just repeat it. I didn't catch it."

"Fine. I said our plan involves ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■, which is ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■…"

His voice distorted again, melting into an unintelligible hum.

...…

Reality. Aboard the ship.

I woke with a sharp inhale, heart pounding, breath shallow. My hand clenched the sheets tightly.

"What's wrong, Welt?" Vashtun's voice came from the chair across the room. He didn't look up from his book, though smoke from his cigar drifted toward the round window. "You've only been out for two hours. Bad dream?"

"Worse," I rasped, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. My hands trembled slightly before I stilled them.

"Water," I said curtly. "Get me some."

He glanced sideways. "You do realize I'm not your servant, right?"

"Technically, you are."

He sighed, muttered something under his breath, and got up. Moments later, he handed me a glass of water from the crystal decanter on the table.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

I downed it in a few swallows, the glass shaking faintly in my hand. "Thanks," I muttered, setting it on the side table.

"What did you dream about?" he asked, tone casual, though his eyes flicked toward me briefly.

"Nothing useful," I said, rubbing my temples. "What about you? What are you up to?"

"Thought experiment," he replied. "What would the world be like without gods? Would we be freer, or would something worse just take their place?"

"I think—"

"Don't." He raised a hand. "I don't want your answer. I want to think it through myself."

"Fine," I muttered, lying back down. I knew sleep wouldn't come again, but I closed my eyes anyway, letting the sound of the waves fill the gaps in my thoughts.

...…

Another dream. The fifth plan.

The van was cramped, reeking of old oil and damp fabric. Outside, a dark alley stretched ahead, the silhouettes of office towers looming through the cracked windshield.

"All the explosives are armed," Jeonghyeok said, eyes fixed on the laptop in his lap. The screen's glow lit his tense face. "Fifteen floors, thirty charges. All linked. One button, and the whole building comes down."

"Good," I said quietly.

The fifth plan. This wasn't a strike on a military base or a government hub. This time, the target was indiscriminate—an office tower packed with civilians. The message was simple: nowhere is safe.

I stared at the building. Faces from Clockthon's slums flashed through my mind—ordinary workers, people just trying to survive. There could be hundreds like them inside, maybe thousands.

"Jeonghyeok," I said softly. "Do we really need to do this?"

He looked at me, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean, Donghwan-ssi? This was your plan. You said we needed to prove their system can't protect anyone."

"I know what I said," I replied. "But the people in there… how do I put it… simply put, they're not our enemies. They're just collateral."

He stared at me, brows furrowing. "What's wrong with you today? You've been acting strange since morning. Calmer. Your tone, the way you talk—it's completely different. You haven't cursed once."

I stayed silent. I couldn't tell him I wasn't the same Cheon Donghwan anymore. That I'd lived another life, seen another world, and learned that destroying was easy. Building something worth keeping, that was the real challenge.

"There's another way," I said finally. "One that doesn't involve this."

"What way?" His voice sharpened, frustration creeping in. "We're too far in to back out! We're terrorists, Donghwan-ssi! This is who we are!"

I looked at the detonator in my hand. One press. One flick of my thumb, and hundreds of lives would be gone.

I thought of Silas, of his kindness I still couldn't fully explain. Of Motley's mask and the laughter of children I'd entertained. Of the thousand chances I never had before but now stood before me.

I opened the van door.

"Donghwan, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm stopping this," I said. "I'm disarming it."

"You'll get caught! They'll execute you!"

"Maybe," I said. "Better that than living as someone who chooses to kill when it's not necessary."

I stepped out, the cold night air biting against my skin as I approached the building.

Then I felt it again, that creeping chill along my neck. The familiar sense of being watched.

I turned. At the end of the alley, that cloaked figure stood, head bowed slightly beneath its crown of stars. This time, it wasn't just in my head. Dream or not, it had crossed over.

Its hand lifted.

The office tower exploded before I could react.

Boom!

The blast was instantaneous, a deafening roar swallowing the world. Fire erupted skyward, windows shattered into glittering shards, upper floors collapsed onto the ones below.

Rumble!

The ground shook, the air filled with screams and the sound of concrete breaking apart.

I could only stare, breath caught in my throat, as thousands of lives vanished in seconds.

"Do you see now?" That voice echoed again, shredding my ears. "Choice is an illusion. In the end, you WILL always be the destroyer."

My knees buckled. A silent scream pounded in my chest, unable to escape.

...…

Reality.

"Welt. Welt, wake up. We're here."

My eyes snapped open. Vashtun's face hovered above mine, his usual cynical expression tinged with faint concern. Sunlight streamed through the cabin window, the sea outside glimmering gold under the approaching afternoon sun.

"We've arrived?" my voice rasped.

"Yes. You slept through the entire trip. You were muttering and twitching. Nightmares?"

I didn't answer. My throat was dry, my thoughts tangled. I got up and followed him out.

The dock we stepped onto belonged to a private island. The air was warm, scented with tropical flowers. The seawater sparkled clear and bright. Beautiful, though this place was still a prison, even if it was wrapped in gold.

A neatly dressed attendant wearing House Wenren colors approached us. He bowed slightly. "Welcome to Sovereign's Gambit, Lord Rothes, Lord Rohnberg. Your quarters are prepared. The event will begin in three days."

We followed him along a winding path. The road climbed toward a sprawling complex built into the rocky mountainside. Tiered pavilions and towers jutted from the cliffs, their banners fluttering gently in the sea breeze.

Vashtun let out a low whistle. "Damn. This place is incredible!"

I stared at the towering complex, its scale almost unreal. My thoughts shifted. With architecture like this, so distinctly Chinese, was it possible that another regressor like me existed in this world?

If the answer was yes, then I wasn't alone here. And if not… then where had the fried rice, noodles, and this architecture come from? I didn't understand anymore, not yet.