December 9th, 2026. Time had passed faster than I ever expected.
Christmas was coming soon, along with my eighteenth birthday, yet my parents weren't around to celebrate it with me. Not that it mattered much anymore. At least I still had my athletic build, my blonde hair, and those striking blue eyes—probably the only reason that beautiful brunette had decided to spend the night with me.
What a ride that had been.
The sudden crackle of my television pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Case 1901… reports live!"
That got my attention. For once, something on TV was actually worth watching. Case 1901—my parents' case.
I grabbed the half-broken remote and turned up the volume on my 50-inch screen.
"Authorities have reopened the decade-old homicide case of Mr. Alex Jackson and his wife, Mrs. Maria Jackson. The suspect remains unidentified."
Of course he did.
No one in the police force ever cared about anyone but themselves. I had always hated that. I never understood why my father had chosen to become one of them. Police didn't protect the law—they took advantage of it.
"Well, news just in—detectives have discovered key clues in the case!"
After ten years, I doubted it was anything meaningful.
"The suspect is active as we speak. His exact location is unknown. The Florida State Police Department has issued a statewide alert. Lock your doors, report suspicious activity, and stay safe."
I lived in Florida.
For a brief moment, I wondered if I should go out and play the hero. Chase him down. Do what the police never could.
Then I scoffed at myself. I was better off dead.
"So, you're still not going to find out what really happened to your parents?"
"…Yeah," I replied instinctively. "There's no point—"
I froze.
That voice hadn't come from the television.
"Then," it continued from behind me, "die."
My body moved before my mind could catch up. I ducked just as something swept toward me. Pure instinct—something drilled into me from years of harsh training under my father.
"You dodged?" the voice said, almost amused. "I suppose that's expected of Alex's son."
I scrambled backward and forced myself to my feet. My room was small and square, barely furnished beyond a bed and the TV. The door, about ten feet away, stood wide open.
Why was it open?
More importantly—how had I not noticed the man standing inside my room?
He was dressed entirely in black, like some kind of bandit. It should have been impossible to miss him.
There was no time to think.
Only time to fight.
"I'm not ready to die just yet," I said, trying to steady my voice.
I didn't even see his leg move.
Pain exploded through my body as his sweep connected, and the next thing I knew, I was crashing into the wooden floor. It was cheap flooring—it shouldn't have hurt this much. And yet, my head rang as if it had been slammed into concrete.
How had he gotten in? Why was he attacking me?
Why was I losing?
"Well…" I forced a smile despite the pain. "Wanna spare my life?"
People had always told me my smile looked unsettling, like something out of a nightmare. My mother used to joke that I'd be safer if I just frowned instead.
The man removed his ski mask, and for some reason, that irritated me more than anything else.
He was handsome. Perfect skin, sharp features, and a physique that made mine look average at best—like a living sculpture carved after Ronnie Coleman himself. Everything about him was better.
Even his blonde hair and blue eyes suited him more than they ever suited me.
"So, you're Alex's son?" he asked.
"…Yeah."
"You'll both be seeing the same face right before you die."
My stomach dropped.
He knew my father.
No—he had killed him.
The realization hit me all at once, crashing through every thought I had left.
When he pulled out a knife, something inside me snapped.
Don't die.
No one else is going to avenge them.
I lunged at him, trying everything I knew—leg sweeps, grapples, techniques I had learned through years of training. I tried to shift my weight, to use leverage, to force even the slightest reaction out of him.
Nothing worked.
He didn't move.
Not even once.
"Utterly pathetic," he said coldly. "I'll at least give you my name. It's Lucius."
Chris Jackson. That was my name. It used to sound like it meant something. Now, it felt hollow.
"You probably thought I moved," Lucius continued as he stepped closer. "I didn't. Not even once."
I had lost to someone who hadn't even tried.
He crouched down in front of me, bringing himself eye level as the tip of his knife hovered over my chest, perfectly aligned with my heart.
"You're disgusting," he muttered.
"No… please," I begged, my voice breaking despite myself. "I don't want to die. I'll do anything."
It was pathetic. I knew it. But fear stripped away everything else.
"I don't even want to kill you," he said. "You should be grateful you were Alex's son."
The blade plunged into my chest.
Everything went cold.
So this was how I died.
Blood filled my mouth, thick and metallic. I tried to breathe, but there was nothing there—only choking, only pain. My vision blurred, fading into darkness.
Then, somehow, I saw him.
"Father…?"
I was back in my room, but everything felt… different. My mother stood at the sink, quietly washing dishes, while my father sat on the edge of my bed.
"Do you still believe police take advantage of the law?" he asked.
"…Yeah," I answered. "You were supposed to be a good cop. Look what happened to you."
He laughed softly and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Do as you please, son. But remember—power isn't free. Someone always pays."
I shoved his hand away. "I won't die like you did."
He didn't get angry. Instead, he smiled.
"Chris… we love you."
"Stop it!" I snapped. "Why would you love someone like me? I'm worthless—"
"You can always become a hero," he interrupted gently. "You're already ours."
When I opened my eyes again, they were gone.
I was back on the floor, my body failing, Lucius still standing over me.
"…Fu—me," I muttered weakly.
With what little strength I had left, I forced myself upright.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Fuck you," I rasped. "You won't watch me die kneeling."
Darkness swallowed everything.
Then—
Text appeared.
[Become a police officer in a fantasy world?]
White letters floated in an endless void.
[Yes / No][0.2 seconds remaining]
Was this… another chance?
This time, I'd do it right.
"I'll become a hero," I whispered.
Yes.
[Confirmed][Welcome to the world of Htrae.]