Milo:

  The kitchen was pure chaos. Not the kind with swords and blood, but with pots clattering, fires roaring, and people darting around like their lives depended on it. I’d been stuck here for days, scrubbing dishes like it was my destiny, but my mind was on bigger things. My hands were covered in grease, but my brain? Busy collecting every detail about this place.

  Turns out, you learn a lot when you’re stuck doing nothing but washing dishes.

  I’d gotten pretty good at figuring out the guards’ rotations—they moved like clockwork. Every shift, every post, I had memorized it all. The royals’ meals? They were getting smaller, which had everyone whispering about the king’s health going downhill. But that wasn’t what had my attention.

  No, it was something bigger. Something sketchier.

  Whispers about an uprising were floating around. At first, it was just a few hushed convos here and there. But now? Now, it was all anyone seemed to talk about in the shadows. The guards would sneak into the kitchen during off-hours, grabbing food and whispering about something going down. I’d learned the head chef, who looked exactly like Dak-ho, wasn’t too happy about it. His name was Kyung-ho, and he ran the kitchen like a drill sergeant. He was already stressed with the chaos of running things, and having guards sneak food? Not helping.

  But honestly, what was happening in the kitchen wasn’t even the weirdest part.

  No, that honor went to the royal apothecary.

  Every day, the air around the place was filled with the smell of herbs and strange concoctions. Medicines, potions, you name it—they were making it 24/7. It was like everyone in the palace was sick, but I hadn’t seen a single person coughing or looking ill. And yet, the apothecary never stopped moving, with servants running in and out delivering all kinds of stuff.

  Something about it felt wrong.

  But I had to keep my cool. I needed answers, and to get them, I needed someone who knew more than they were letting on.

  That’s when I noticed her.

  She was a low-ranking servant, always in and out of the apothecary. I hadn’t paid much attention at first, but the more I saw her, the more I realized she looked familiar. Like, maybe she had been on the set of The Emperor’s Sword? I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but she gave me this weird sense of déjà vu. She had to know something.

  I just needed the right moment to talk to her.

  Lucky for me, the guards sneaking food gave me an opening.

  As she disappeared into the apothecary, two guards slipped into the kitchen, trying to be slick while stuffing their pockets with steamed rice cakes. I grabbed a heavy cauldron and “accidentally” let it crash to the floor. The noise was deafening.

  Everyone jumped. The guards froze mid-theft. Kyung-ho came charging over, face red, already seething.

  “What the hell is going on?!” he barked, eyes locking onto the guilty parties.

  “Stealing from my kitchen? Again? And right before my shift ends?!” He was livid. The guards stammered out excuses, but Kyung-ho wasn’t having it. He booted them out, threatening to report them.

  With the distraction in full swing, I slipped away and headed straight for the apothecary.

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  The servant had just stepped out, balancing a tray of vials and bowls. I caught up, cleared my throat, and threw her a casual smile.

  “Hey,” I said. “I see you running medicine all the time. You’re good at it.”

  She blushed, looking down. “Oh, um, thanks,” she mumbled.

  That was my cue. “So, what’s with all this, anyway? Should I be worried about catching something?”

  Her blush deepened, and she shook her head with a giggle. “No, it’s for the king’s new consort.”

  That caught my attention. “New consort?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard rumors, but I didn’t know much about her.”

  The servant’s eyes lit up, and she leaned in closer, clearly excited to share the gossip. “Oh, everyone’s talking about her,” she whispered. “The king found her in the woods. They say she’s a beautiful fairy. But he didn’t go after her himself—he sent the Black Lotus to bring her in.”

  A fairy? My heart skipped a beat. Could it be Orla? I played it cool, though.

  “Does this fairy have a name?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  The servant shrugged. “The king gives his consorts their own names. He calls this one his ‘Fairy of the forest’.” She giggled, leaning in closer. “But between you and me, she’s not doing too well. That’s why she needs all this medicine.”

  “Not doing well? Is she sick?” I pressed, hoping for more details.

  She glanced around before leaning in so close I could feel her breath. “They say she’s sick, but…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s not medicine to make her better. It’s for the queen. She’s using it to… get rid of the Fairy.”

  I blinked. “Wait, what?”

  She winked, pressing a finger to her lips. “You didn’t hear that from me.” Then, with a giggle, she walked away, leaving me standing there, stunned.

  A plot to eliminate the Fairy? And if the “Fairy” was really Orla…

  Shit.

  This was the plot of The Emperor’s Sword—the drama I had worked on before everything spiraled. The characters, the conspiracy, even the poisoning—it was all playing out in front of me.

  Except I wasn’t playing the right part.

  In the show, I was the hero—General Haruto, the one who unraveled the scheme and saved the consort. But here? I was a dishwashing nobody, stuck on the sidelines while the story unfolded without me.

  Why wasn’t I the one playing my part?

  My head spun, but the sharp sound of boots pounding against stone snapped me back. My body tensed as I ducked behind a column.

  A figure in a sleek samurai-style uniform stormed into the apothecary, two soldiers at his heels. He moved with the same deadly precision I had seen before.

  Daiki.

  Or rather, the same man who had led the Black Lotus in the forest, the man responsible for capturing Orla—or the “Fairy,” as they called her here. My heart pounded as I pressed into the shadows, watching as the three of them entered the apothecary.

  Inside, I heard the physician’s panicked voice. “G-General Haruto, please—I don’t have it! I swear!”

  General Haruto?

  The name hit me like a punch. That’s who Daiki was in this warped reality. He was playing my role.

  But why?

  If this was supposed to mirror the drama, why was everything wrong? Why was Daiki the general instead of me?

  I crept closer, keeping low, listening as the physician stammered, his voice trembling. “I—I don’t know what you mean, my lord.”

  Haruto—Daiki—wasn’t buying it. I peeked around the corner just in time to see him towering over the physician, hand gripping the hilt of his katana. His face was unreadable, cold, focused. This wasn’t the playful Daiki Sakai I knew from ADRIIFT. This man radiated danger.

  The physician backed up, hands shaking as Haruto unsheathed his sword and pressed the edge against the man’s throat.

  “Where is the antidote?” Haruto demanded, his voice a low. His eyes narrowed, watching every twitch of the physician’s face.

  The physician’s breath hitched, his body trembling. “I-I swear, I don’t have it!” His voice squeaked.

  My heart pounded. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to do something, but I stayed frozen, my mind racing.

  “What do you mean you don’t have it?” Haruto’s voice was ice, his blade pressing harder against the physician’s neck.

  “I—I didn’t make an antidote! I swear, there isn’t one!” the physician gasped.

  Haruto’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. He leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. “Then you’d better make one.” The edge of his sword pressed deeper into the physician’s skin. “You have until sunrise.”

  My pulse pounded. Was this actually happening? Was Orla being poisoned? General Haruto—Daiki—was at the center of it all. Was he meant to be the one to save her?

  ?Sky Mincharo