Kairo Elden opened his eyes to sunlight streaming through a narrow, dusty window. The smell of straw, smoke, and roasted vegetables hit him instantly. He groaned and rubbed his head.
"Where… am I?" he muttered. His voice sounded young, unfamiliar, smaller than he remembered.
The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. He wasn't in his own body. He wasn't in his world. He was… inside a fantasy novel he had read countless times. And, worse, he was a background character—the kind whose name barely appeared, whose actions were utterly forgettable, and whose fate was to die before the first major plot twist.
"Fantastic," Kairo muttered dryly. "I get to be irrelevant… and then dead. Sounds like a dream life."
He struggled to sit up, noticing his frail arms and legs. Every muscle screamed in protest. This wasn't his old body—it was a weaker, younger version of himself. And as he glanced down at his rough-spun tunic and worn boots, it hit him. The farm boy he had become had nothing—no skills, no magic, and no heroic destiny.
"Okay… step one: survive."
Easier said than done. He recalled the story perfectly: the village he woke up in was a minor setting, hardly mentioned beyond a passing chapter. But the people who lived here? Some would become heroes, others villains. And the villains—well—they were the reason the background characters usually died.
Kairo sighed. "So I'm basically dinner for plot convenience."
He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly on the wooden floor. Outside, the village was waking. Chickens clucked, the blacksmith's hammer rang in the distance, and smoke curled from the baker's chimney. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful. Almost.
Then a faint red speck flickered in his peripheral vision.
"What the…?" Kairo froze. The light hovered, pulsing like a heartbeat. He reached out tentatively—and suddenly it solidified into a thin thread, hovering before his eyes.
The thread tugged at his consciousness, almost whispering. Then, without warning, words appeared in his mind:
"Future tragedy. Death. Betrayal. This person will turn evil in seven days."
Kairo's stomach sank. That wasn't his death flag—it belonged to someone else. Someone… important. Someone dangerous.
He remembered the story. That mark belonged to Lilith, the dark mage girl from the neighboring village. In the novel, she would become a merciless sorceress, killing countless people and eventually crossing paths with Kairo's former self—meaning his body's character—before meeting a tragic end.
"And… I can see it? I can stop it?" he whispered, disbelief in his voice.
A flicker of hope—and panic—raced through him. If he ignored it, Lilith would follow her tragic path, and he would die like the original plot dictated. But if he intervened… if he saved her… he could change the story. He could survive.
And survive he must.
Kairo leaned against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. "Alright… let's think. First rule of surviving a fantasy story: never trust plot armor. Second rule: don't die. Third rule…" He paused, considering. "Okay, maybe just don't die for now."
He glanced out the window. The village was quaint but clearly medieval—cobblestone streets, thatched cottages, a central fountain, and villagers already bustling about. Some carried baskets of bread, others herded animals, and the occasional merchant cart rattled over the stones.
It should have been peaceful. It should have been simple. But Kairo knew better. Villains always appeared in places that seemed safe. And Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of irony.
A gust of wind rattled the window and brought a new sound: a scream from the edge of the forest.
Kairo's heart skipped a beat. "Already?"
He grabbed a stick from the hearth, holding it like a weapon, even though he had no idea how effective it would be. His mind raced. Seven days. Lilith's death flag activates in seven days. But that doesn't mean she won't do something dangerous before then.
Kairo forced himself to take a deep breath. He needed a plan.
"Step one: find her. Step two: figure out why her life goes wrong. Step three: fix it without dying." He paused. "Step four… maybe survive the next chapter."
The problem, of course, was that he had no magical skills. No combat training. Not even a clever disguise. Just him, his knowledge of the story, and… whatever this strange ability was.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course. Of course, the first plot twist comes with zero prep. Great. Fantastic."
Kairo took a step outside, and the village greeted him like nothing had happened. Birds chirped, children laughed, dogs barked. Everything looked peaceful.
Everything looked safe.
And yet, he could feel the threads—faint, pulsing lines of potential tragedy that laced through the people around him. One thread glowed faintly red, tugging insistently toward the forest.
He knew what it meant.
A villain in the making.
And for the first time since waking, Kairo felt a strange determination. He may have been a nobody, weak and unremarkable. But he had one advantage no one else had: knowledge. Knowledge of the story. Knowledge of the future. Knowledge that could save lives.
He adjusted his worn tunic, gripping his makeshift weapon tighter.
"Alright, Kairo Elden," he said aloud, his voice firmer now. "Let's see if the nobody can rewrite fate. Let's see if the Death Flag Cleaner can survive… and maybe save the villains before they ruin everything."
A shadow moved in the treeline, subtle but deliberate. And Kairo knew—it had begun.
His journey to fix death flags, survive, and rewrite destiny was about to start.