The lady cut down the massive tiger with a single strike of her sword.
Blood splattered across the grass, warm and wet against my face. My body trembled as I collapsed to the ground.
My classmates were just as terrified. None of us had ever seen anything like this before.
The smell of blood, the pounding in my chest, the sting of reality—
this wasn't a dream.
This was real.
I had truly been transported to another world.
The woman turned toward us, her tone calm yet commanding.
"Welcome to Sylyncia, my lords."
She wore the sweetest smile, completely at odds with the sharpness in her voice and the cold curve of her rosy lips.
"Apologies for the inconvenience," she continued. "That cat escaped her cage. She's being punished. I hope she didn't frighten you."
Then she bowed slightly, her eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"My lords, you are the heroes promised a hundred years ago by the Upper Class. Your mission is to defeat the Hollows—and save this world. My name is Grita, and I'll be the one guiding you through this mission."
A glowing gate appeared out of nowhere. She gestured for us to follow, and we stepped into a palace of gold and marble. Maids lined the halls, all smiling as if rehearsed, yet their eyes were hollow—lifeless, like dolls trapped in a beautiful dream.
None of us dared speak. The beauty, the mystery, the fear—it was too much. I wished this was just another fantasy inside my head.
Grita began explaining the basics.
This world is called Sylyncia.
There are three races: humans, the Upper Class, and the Hollows.
Magic is ordinary here.
The Upper Class, she said, were once humans who broke their physical limits and became legends. With power comes responsibility, and now the Upper Class no longer live among humans. They dwell in a land called Arma Land, from where they rule over Sylyncia.
The Hollows were humans too, but they surrendered to envy and darkness, performing forbidden rituals—dark magic, human sacrifices—all in their desperate attempt to gain power equal to the Upper Class'. They spread death and chaos across Sylyncia until the Upper Class finally exiled them to the underworld, where they no longer belonged among humans.
Now, the seal that once kept the Hollows from our cities is weakening, and they are beginning to break free. The Upper Class can no longer intervene directly, bound by the laws of Sylyncia, so they carefully chose heroes from Earth—us—to finish the war they once began.
Once our mission is complete, we can choose: return home, or stay here and claim any reward we desire.
Then came the introductions.
Each of my classmates proudly spoke about the member of the Upper Class they met and the powers they received.
When my turn came, I said quietly, "I have none."
I chose not to speak of Riven or our conversation. I didn't know how my words might weaken my already fragile position in this palace. I had no powers, and that already placed me at the very bottom of the hierarchy.
Grita's refined face twisted into a frown.
"If you have no powers," she said slowly, "then you are not one of us."
In the blink of an eye, she was beside me. Her hand closed around my throat.
"You are an enemy," she hissed.
I couldn't fight back. Her grip was like iron.
She turned to the others and said, "She must be one of them—a Hollow using black magic to disguise herself. We were promised four heroes, not five. I intentionally spread rumors that we were expecting five, though we only awaited four. The fifth was bait—and it worked."
Moona gathered all his courage and, unexpectedly, spoke up for me. "But we've known her for years! She's one of us!"
Grita's angry face softened slightly, pretending to sympathize with Moona—as if she understood his feelings.
"I can sense the stench of Hollow energy from her," she said. "She's not your friend."
Before I could speak, she dragged me across the floor and threw me into a dark cell.
Aside from the pain in every inch of my body, I felt humiliation burning deeper than the bruises.
I hated the shame of being powerless—of seeing my dignity and pride crushed into the ground before the people I don't like the most.
I hated Grita. And at that point, it became personal. I knew I would make her pay for it.
I just didn't know how.
"It's your mistake for being powerless," she said coldly. "You'll die for it."
I barely had time to breathe when a familiar voice echoed through the shadows.
"So, you're going to die already?"
Riven.
He stood before me again—those same black eyes, calm and endless. I hated him for what was happening to me, yet I knew he was the only one I wanted to talk to. The only hope I had left.
I forced myself to sound steady. "You're not one of the Upper Class, are you? You owe me powers. You gave me nothing. I want an explanation."
He laughed—a cruel, elegant sound, like someone watching an animal perform in a circus.
I hated that look. I wanted him here, on the ground with me. I've always hated people who looked down on me.
"Do you really believe that story about the Upper Class and the Hollows?" he asked. "If you do, you're a fool."
Of course, I never believed Grita's story. Her words were only tools—bait to make the so-called heroes play according to her agenda. But I knew some of it must be true. Still, I didn't have enough information. The only source I had was Riven. I had to make him talk.
So I asked, "You want to die, don't you? I can promise I'll make you love life—or better, I can kill you."
That hit a nerve. For the first time, I glimpsed something human behind his flawless mask—anger, and maybe the faintest trace of sorrow. Suddenly it all clicked: Grita's story wasn't pure fabrication. Riven had been human once. Humans clutch at any scrap of hope when they're desperate, even if it's poisonous. He had deliberately underestimated me; the day we first met he'd already told me, in his own way, that he wanted to die. Now I had him exactly where I wanted—a fragile truth I could use.
I pressed forward. "You envy me, don't you? You chose me because I'm free. Because I still fight to live, even when the world is against me."
His jaw clenched. I could see he wanted to kill me. But if he did, nothing in his world would change.
Finally, he spoke through a forced smile. "What are you offering?"
"I'm offering a deal," I said. "You keep me alive, and I'll make you want to live. Get me out of here—then we'll talk details."
Riven stared deep into my eyes, searching for the truth.
But the truth didn't matter.
People don't believe lies because they're true.
They believe them because they want to.
He let me lie to him.
He let me in his head.
Without warning, he pulled me close, his arms tightening around me as the cell shattered into dust.
Then, with a single beat of his wings, we were in the sky—free.
And all I could think about was how to make that thing believe my next lie.