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Chapter 5 : Caught Between Two Worlds

  Since that night at the hot spring, I hadn’t seen him.

  He had carried me back to the chaotic camp without a word, handing me over to his right-hand knight—a man who seemed more like a trusted shadow than just an assistant.

  And just like that, I was placed in a tent with the very women I had tried so hard to avoid looking at.

  At the hot spring, I had pretended they didn’t exist, as if ignoring them would keep me separate from their fate. But now? Now, I was one of them.

  Should I laugh or cry?

  The differences between us were clear, though. While they were shackled with heavy iron chains, their wrists and ankles locked tight, I was merely bound with thick hemp ropes around my legs.

  It was enough to keep me from running, but not enough to break my spirit. If nothing else, I had VIP prisoner status.

  The other women studied me with open curiosity. My skin—deeply tanned compared to their porcelain complexions—stood out even more beneath the dim light of the tent. My shorter, curvier frame contrasted their tall, muscular builds, and my loose curls were nothing like their smooth, silken hair.

  (In reality, I’m 5’6”, but here? I felt more like 5 feet flat.)

  At least my hair didn’t look like an electrocuted lion anymore. No, it was healthy, defined—like I had just spent three months undergoing a luxury Korean skincare and hair transformation.

  The women spoke in the same language I had heard in the army camp. But instead of fear, their voices carried something sharper—anger. They didn’t seem broken. They seemed furious.

  The camp outside was alive with the sounds of men drinking, laughing, talking too loudly. The occasional cheer or jeer sent irritation crawling down my spine.

  Then came the part that turned my stomach.

  Drunken soldiers began filtering into the tent, picking out women like they were selecting food from a menu. One man, reeking of alcohol, turned to me with an eager grin—only for a nearby guard to whisper something in his ear.

  I watched his expression shift from amusement to terror. He averted his gaze immediately, walking away as if I had suddenly ceased to exist.

  I exhaled, tension unwinding from my shoulders. Whatever the commander had told them about me, it was enough to keep them away.

  Still, it was impossible to ignore the way the other women were dragged from the tent, disappearing into the night.

  A pang of sympathy hit me, sharp and unexpected.

  I had read about moments like these in books—scenes where heroines endured captivity, defiance burning in their eyes, waiting for the inevitable moment when their captor would become obsessed with them.

  I used to love those stories. I’d sit there munching on chips, sipping Coke, fully invested in the slow-burn descent into Stockholm Syndrome.

  Now?

  Now, I was living it. And uggggggg, it was not as entertaining from this side.

  By the second day, the army had begun its march back to the Ojan Kingdom.

  And I had only one goal: figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next.

  The women walked behind while I was led forward by the right-hand knight—the one I had gotten used to seeing.

  So, the commander hadn’t forgotten about me.

  Or maybe they just knew I was too weak to walk far on my own.

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  I still hadn’t found a way back to my real world. No matter how many times I fell asleep, I kept waking up here, trapped in this endless nightmare.

  The cold worsened as we moved north, seeping into my bones. They forced me to drink a foul, bitter soup. The first time, I threw it up immediately. The second time, I managed to choke down just enough to survive.

  Each night, I was convinced I wouldn’t make it until morning. Yet, somehow, I kept waking up.

  And every time, disappointment hit me like a stone.

  I just wanted to wake up in my own bed.

  I didn’t have the guts to end it myself, but I wasn’t brave enough to gamble my life on a theory that might not even work.

  I lost track of the days. Fever burned through my body, making the world blur at the edges.

  It had been almost a full day on horseback. My hips were numb, my legs unresponsive.

  My breathing grew labored, my heart skipping beats.

  Pain radiated through my back, unbearable, unrelenting. My body was shutting down. Maybe this is it.

  Maybe I’m finally dying.

  Maybe I can finally go home.

  A voice broke through the haze.

  “Aly! Alyyyyyy, wake up!”

  The sound echoed in my ears, distant yet familiar.

  “Is she dead?” Someone’s voice—sharp with panic.

  “She’s not! Can’t you see she’s breathing? It’s just a fever!”

  I forced my eyes open, disoriented, my vision swimming.

  No cold. No horses. No chains.

  Instead—my sister. My parents. Hovering over me, their faces twisted with worry.

  My throat tightened. “Mom? Dad? Vivian?”

  Tears welled up and spilled over, blurring their faces. My breath hitched as a sob forced its way out of my chest.

  “Am I dreaming?” My voice trembled. “Or is this a nightmare? Did I die and somehow come back here?”

  The weight of everything crashed over me.

  And for the first time in a long while, I cried.

  Vivian frowned, her confusion evident. “What happened, Aly? I tried to wake you up, but you were completely knocked out. Are you taking anything I don’t know about?”

  I barely heard her. My mind was spinning as I frantically searched for my phone. “What’s the date?”

  Vivian’s expression shifted from confusion to full-blown concern. “Date? Aly, are you okay? Have you lost your memory or something? It’s 4 PM, and you just woke up! We thought you were dead. Mom even searched for empty bottles, thinking you might have… you know.”

  I stared at her.

  What the hell was she talking about? How could they be so worried about something so… mundane? I had just survived gods knew how long in a war camp, barely clinging to life, and they were worried I’d overdosed on sleep?

  The months of isolation in my room had already made me feel disconnected from my family, but this? This felt like I had landed in a different century.

  Vivian stood and wrinkled her nose. “Your fever must be messing with your head. Whatever, I’ll get you some painkillers. And jeez, girl, take a shower! You smell like dirt and sweat. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you came straight from a horse stable.”

  My breath caught. A horse stable ?!!

  I scrambled to plug in my phone, heart hammering as the screen flickered to life.

  The date appeared.

  My stomach dropped.

  A month. An entire month had passed since the day I bought my perfume.

  This wasn’t a dream.

  I had been somewhere else.

  I had lived through all of it.

  A tremor ran through me. My hips ached, my back throbbed. My body remembered.

  Slowly, I moved to the mirror, undressing with shaky hands.

  My reflection stared back—different, unfamiliar. I had lost the extra weight from my elite NEET lifestyle, my body now leaner, toned in a way it had never been before. But one thing caught my eye.

  The white birthmark on my left hip—it looked more pronounced, almost glowing.

  Had it always been this noticeable? Or was this linked to what had happened to me?

  I shook off the thought and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash over me. It felt… surreal.

  The heat reminded me of his hot spring.

  Goosebumps rose over my skin as the memories crashed into me. The steam, the feeling of floating, the way he had looked at me under the moonlight—

  Nope. Abort. Not going there.

  A loud growl interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

  I clutched my stomach. Oh my god.

  I was home.

  Which meant—

  I could eat anything I wanted.

  A surge of excitement wiped away every other thought. The possibilities flashed through my mind faster than I could process them—burgers, fries, ice cream, boba, instant ramen, sushi—

  This was better than discovering a new comic.

  No, scratch that.

  I was the comic now.

  I smelled like myself again, thanks to half a bottle of perfume dousing away every trace of dirt, sweat, and whatever else had clung to me.

  I had a lavish meal, savoring every bite like it was my last. Later, I cradled a matcha latte in my hands, relishing the way it soothed me—especially in my new slim body.

  Vivian barely noticed anything different. Over the course of casual conversation, I indirectly asked what I’d been doing the past month.

  “You were quiet as usual,” she said with a shrug. “But you weren’t eating much, which was weird. I thought you were on a diet or something.”

  My stomach twisted.

  So… I had been here the whole time?

  The idea of another me, silently going through the motions while I was living in another world, sent an icy shiver down my spine.

  And since I had already been distant from my family, no one had questioned my behavior. No one had noticed.

  Was this a horror movie?

  I want to cryyyy…

  Shaking off the existential dread, I decided to put everything I knew about that world on paper.

  OJAN. That was the name of the place they were heading toward.

  The commander seemed to be the only one who had truly understood me.

  At first, we couldn’t communicate, but after that stupid, forced cuddle night, something changed. We managed to understand each other. But thinking about it now… why?

  If I could understand him, why couldn’t I understand the others?

  Did he speak my language?

  I traced my memories, searching for a pattern.

  I had managed to come back only after collapsing from exhaustion on the horse.

  The horse ride… was that the missing piece?

  But that didn’t make sense. I had transferred to that world just by sleeping in my bed.

  It was easy to fall into the giant world, but hard to come back here.

  Wow. Was that what life was about? Easy to fall, hard to climb?

  Uggggggggg.

  I scribbled down everything I could remember.

  My head grew heavy.

  Sleep crept up on me so fast it felt like I had been drugged.

  My vision blurred. My body slumped over the desk.

  Panic jolted through me—I forced my eyes open and ran to the living room, where Vivian was watching a movie.

  I practically threw myself onto the couch.

  Vivian glanced at me with a short, disbelieving giggle, lifting her blanket in silent approval.

  The warmth of the blanket. The softness of the pillow. My body relaxed.

  The last thing I saw was the golden afternoon sunlight filtering in through the windows—

  —

  I woke up to something wrong.

  The pillow was too soft. The covers were too plush.

  This wasn’t my bed.

  Was I in Vivian’s room?

  I cracked one eye open.

  And froze.

  A pair of massive, fiery golden siren eyes were staring straight into mine.

  HELL NO !!!!!!

  You’ve got to be kidding me !!!!!!

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