The operating room clock ticked softly, each second a quiet reminder of how long the world outside had been holding its breath.
"Nine hours" ____
That was how long Dr.Aarav Dev Mahasura had been standing under the white surgical lights, his hands steady, his mind sharp despite the exhaustion creeping into his bones.
The patient on the table—a young boy with a shattered liver and torn vessels from a highway accident—lay motionless, his chest rising and falling only because machines demanded it.
"Scalpel," Aarav said calmly.
The nurses moved with practiced precision. No one dared to speak unnecessarily. In this hospital, his name carried weight.
At twenty years old, he was already a legend—Thailand's youngest chief trauma surgeon, a genius who had finished school before most children learned long division.
But in this room, none of that mattered.
Only the boy on the table mattered.
Aarav's dark eyes narrowed slightly as he guided the final sutures into place. Blood loss stabilized. The reconstructed vessel held. The monitors shifted into steadier rhythms, the frantic beeping softening into something closer to peace.
"It's done," he said at last.
The tension in the room released in a collective breath.
One of the nurses wiped sweat from her forehead, her eyes shining with relief.
"The patient is stable, Doctor."
Aarav nodded once. "Transfer him to ICU. Monitor his vitals every five minutes for the first hour. If his pressure drops even slightly, call me."
"Yes, Doctor!"
As the team wheeled the bed away,
Aarav stepped back, removing his gloves slowly. The smell of antiseptic clung to him. His shoulders ached. His vision blurred for just a moment—but he forced himself to remain upright.
Pain and fatigue were familiar companions. He had learned to ignore them long ago.
The doors slid shut behind the patient.
Silence filled the operating room.
Only then did Aarav exhale.
He leaned his forehead briefly against the cool glass wall, closing his eyes.
Alive.
That was all that mattered.
The locker room was quiet when he changed out of his surgical scrubs. The hospital staff had mostly gone home; midnight had passed hours ago. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly, reflecting off the white tiles.
Aarav slipped into his black shirt and long coat, fastening the buttons with methodical movements. His reflection in the mirror showed a young man with sharp features, calm eyes, and a tiredness that ran deeper than the body.
People often called him perfect.
Genius. Handsome. Kind. Untouchable.
They didn't know how empty silence felt.
He picked up his phone from the bench.
No new messages.
There never were.
His parents had died when he was seven—an accident that had erased warmth from his childhood in a single night. His grandparents had filled that space with gentle love, with home-cooked meals and soft laughter… until the earthquake in Bangkok took them away too.
Fourteen years old.
One day he had a family.
The next day, only a hospital room and the echo of voices that would never answer again.
Aarav slipped the phone into his pocket and turned toward the exit.
I'm fine, he told himself, as he always did.
And as always, the words felt hollow.
The parking lot lay quiet under the dim glow of yellow lamps. His black car stood alone in the far corner, polished and untouched, a luxury he rarely noticed.
As Aarav approached, he reached for his keys.
Then—
Light shimmered on the ground beneath his feet.
He froze.
At first, he thought it was a reflection from a passing vehicle. But the glow didn't fade. Instead, intricate patterns began to spread across the concrete—lines, circles, symbols unlike any language he had ever studied.
They pulsed softly, as if breathing.
Aarav crouched, his medical mind immediately alert.
Bioluminescent paint? Projection? Hallucination?
He touched the edge of the glowing pattern.
It was warm.
His heartbeat quickened.
The symbols brightened suddenly, the light flaring like a small sun blooming beneath his palm.
"—!"
He raised his arm to shield his eyes.
The world vanished in white.
For a moment, there was no sound.
No gravity.
No hospital.
No pain.
Then the air changed.
Cool wind brushed his face. The scent of grass and unfamiliar flowers filled his lungs.
Aarav opened his eyes.
He was no longer in the parking lot.
Stone pillars rose around him, carved with ancient runes that shimmered faintly. A massive circular platform lay beneath his feet, etched with the same glowing symbols he had seen on the concrete—only here, they felt… alive.
Candles burned in midair, suspended by invisible force.
And in front of him—
A man stood, draped in garments that looked like something pulled from a historical drama: dark royal blue fabric, silver embroidery, a mantle falling from broad shoulders. His silver-blond hair caught the candlelight, his eyes a deep, unsettling gold.
The man took a step forward.
Then another.
He lowered himself to one knee.
Aarav stared.
"…What?"
The man bowed his head, placing one hand over his chest in a gesture of reverence.
"I have found you at last," he said, his voice steady yet filled with something dangerously close to longing.
"Sage."
Aarav blinked.
"…You've got the wrong person."
The stranger lifted his gaze. His eyes met Aarav's, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to still.
"My name is Kaelith Aureon Valenor," he said.
"Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Aethoria."
He reached out his hand.
"Please take my hand, Sage. Our world has been waiting for you."
Aarav looked at the offered hand.
At the glowing runes.
At the impossible sky beyond the pillars, filled with stars that didn't belong to Earth.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
This isn't a dream, he realized.
Dreams don't feel this cold. This real.
He straightened slowly.
"…You're either the most convincing hallucination I've ever had," he said quietly, "or I've just crossed into a fantasy novel."
Kaelith's lips curved faintly, something like relief flickering across his regal composure.
"Then welcome to the story," the prince replied.
And in that moment, the life Aarav had known—of sterile rooms, silent nights, and endless achievement—shattered like glass behind him.
A new world had opened its doors.
And it was calling him by a name he had never owned before.
Sage.