---
Prologue – The Acceptance
Kyle had always thought of himself as a collector.
Not of stamps or coins or antique teacups like the old women in his neighborhood, but of experiences.
His apartment reflected it — if you could still call it an apartment when every available surface was occupied by travel souvenirs. One shelf sagged under the weight of preserved pressed flowers from planets without names. A wide ceramic bowl sat in the corner, its surface faintly iridescent, filled with polished stones from desert worlds where the sunsets lasted hours. Hanging from the ceiling was a glass wind chime that never stopped swaying, even without wind, because it came from a dimension where air currents never rested.
Kyle lounged sideways on his sofa, one long leg stretched out and the other bent, barefoot, toes flexing idly against the upholstery. His dark, loose hair slid forward to curtain one side of his face, catching the golden light from the tall window. He didn't look like someone who had just completed a six-month mission hopping between timelines; he looked like he'd spent the day wandering through a flower market.
On the low table in front of him, a thin, silver device hummed faintly. The "Mission Terminal," as the System liked to call it, had already lit up with a new prompt.
> New Assignment Available.
Accept?
Kyle reached for the mug beside him, inhaled the steam — vanilla and cardamom — and smiled faintly. "Only just got home and you're already trying to send me out again," he murmured, voice still husky from sleep.
It wasn't that he disliked the work. On the contrary, travel was the one thing he never got tired of. New worlds, new food, new fabrics to feel between his fingers. Even the smell of alien rain was worth the trouble. His fingers brushed the accept button before he'd even finished the thought.
The holographic text shimmered, rearranging itself into a list of mission parameters. His gaze drifted lazily over it—until his brow furrowed.
ROLE ASSIGNMENT: Princess-equivalent figure in all assigned worlds.
MISSION TYPE: Fairy-tale sequence completion.
Kyle blinked. Then he sat up straight, hair falling over his shoulders in a silken spill. "…Princess?"
The System, being a faceless interface, offered no reply beyond a soft confirmation chime.
He leaned back against the sofa cushions, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. He wasn't blind to how he looked — tall but slender, fine-boned face, lashes that drew ridiculous comments from strangers, and a smile that seemed to make shopkeepers add extra pastries to his order. People had been calling him "pretty" since he was six, and "unfair" since he was twelve.
But a princess?
He laughed under his breath. "Guess there's a first time for everything."
His laughter died when he scrolled further.
WORLD ROTATION: Omegaverse – Interstellar – Medieval – Western – Ancient Eastern – …
ROMANTIC INTEREST: Prince archetype, persistent soul continuity.
NOTES: Subject will meet the same soul in every world; observation and relational development encouraged.
Kyle froze. "Persistent soul…?"
The device gave another pleasant, noncommittal chime.
In other words, there was going to be someone following him across worlds. The same person, just in different bodies, every time. The idea was… unnerving. And maybe a little intriguing.
He tipped his head, strands of hair sliding silkily down his cheek. "Hah. Stalker prince, is it? Well…" His grin curved, sly and boyish. "Let's see if he can keep up."
The device's confirmation light flared.
A warm wind swept through the apartment. The scents of cardamom and rain shifted into something else entirely — the clean bite of mountain air, the sweetness of ripe orchard fruit. Kyle's fingers tightened instinctively on the armrest as the familiar pull of transition wrapped around him.
His last clear thought before the light swallowed him was almost petulant: Fine, but I'm choosing my own clothes.
---