Marcus held the apple Damien had tossed him.
It was green. It was shiny. It looked terrifyingly normal in his hand.
He took a bite. The crunch echoed in the empty training ground.
"Okay," Marcus said. He chewed and swallowed. "You asked for it."
He looked at Damien. The younger man was watching him with an intensity that burned.
"My name isn’t Marcus Aldridge," Marcus began.
He sat back down on the bench. His legs felt like jelly.
"My name was Marcus Sylvain. I lived in Chicago. I was thirty years old."
Damien didn’t blink. He just nodded for Marcus to continue.
"I was a life coach," Marcus said. "A professional listener. I helped people fix their problems while ignoring my own."
He looked at his hands.
"I died on a Tuesday," Marcus whispered. "Heart attack. Right in the middle of a session with a client who wouldn’t leave her toxic boyfriend."
He let out a dry laugh.
"I remember falling. I remember thinking that I never took that vacation to Italy."
He looked up at the stars. They were unfamiliar constellations.
"Then I woke up here," Marcus said. "In a bed with silk sheets. In a body that wasn’t mine."
He gestured to himself.
"I had this guy’s memories. Fragmented. Messy. He was a disaster."
Damien leaned against a wooden post. He crossed his arms.
"And the plot?" Damien asked.
"I recognized the names," Marcus explained. "Aldridge. Blackthorn. Roselle. It was from a web novel a client recommended."
"Destiny’s Harem Knight," Marcus spat the title like a curse.
"I skimmed it. I knew the basics. Demon invasion in three years. Theo unites the kingdom with his harem. Everyone lives happily ever after."
He stood up and started pacing again. The energy was too high to sit.
"So I made a plan," Marcus said. He waved the half-eaten apple. "I decided to be the best big brother in history."
"I would groom Theo. I would fix his reputation. I would push him toward the heroines so the prophecy could fulfill itself."
He stopped in front of Damien. He looked desperate.
"But it broke," Marcus said. His voice cracked. "It all broke."
"I tried to help Seraphina with her grief. Now she looks at me like I hung the moon."
"I tried to help Catarina with her stress. Now she writes me letters about her feelings."
"I tried to validate Vivienne. Now she thinks I’m some kind of wisdom guru."
"And the elf..." Marcus groaned. "The elf is stalking me because I asked her what she wanted for dinner."
He threw his hands up.
"I accidentally stole the protagonist’s harem," Marcus confessed. "I am trying to save the world, and instead, I turned it into a romantic comedy."
He slumped back onto the bench.
"I’m terrified," he whispered. "If Theo doesn’t get the girls, he doesn’t get the alliances. If he doesn’t get the alliances, the demons win."
"And I’m just a side character," Marcus finished. "I’m a glitch. I’m ruining everything."
He put his head in his hands.
Silence stretched across the training ground.
It wasn’t an awkward silence. It was heavy.
Marcus waited for Damien to laugh.
Instead, he heard footsteps.
Damien walked over. He sat down next to Marcus.
"My name was Jason Mitchell," Damien said softly. "I was twenty-six. I worked in marketing in Seattle."
Marcus stared. His mouth fell open.
"Seattle?" Marcus choked out. "We were... neighbors? Sort of?"
"Close enough," Damien smiled. It was a sad, tired smile.
"I died on a rainy Thursday," Damien continued. "Drunk driver ran a red light. My cab didn’t stand a chance."
He looked at the practice swords on the rack.
"I didn’t wake up in a bed, Marcus. I woke up in a crib."
Marcus straightened up. "A crib?"
"I was born here," Damien said. "I didn’t take over a body. I started from level one."
He leaned back, looking up at the sky.
"Do you have any idea what it’s like?" Damien asked. "To be a grown man trapped in an infant’s body?"
"I can’t imagine," Marcus whispered.
"You can’t control your limbs," Damien said. "You can’t speak. You just scream and soil yourself."
He shuddered.
"And your mind is fully active. You remember your job. Your apartment. Your Netflix password."
He looked at Marcus. His green eyes were dark with old pain.
"I spent two years learning to walk again," Damien said. "I spent five years learning to read a language I already understood perfectly."
"I had to pretend," he said. "Every single day. For eighteen years."
"I had to be the child my parents expected. I had to be the noble son."
"Then I realized where I was," Damien said. "I heard the name ’Child of Destiny’. I saw the map."
He laughed bitterly.
"I realized I was Damien Blackthorn. The rival. The guy who loses every duel and eventually dies protecting the hero in Act Three."
"So I played the role," Damien said. "I made snarky comments. I challenged Theo to duels I knew I’d lose."
"Because I was scared," he admitted. "Scared that if I stepped out of line, the world would end."
He looked at Marcus.
"I’ve been alone for eighteen years, Marcus. Eighteen years without a single person who understood a word I was really saying."
"I thought I was the only one," Damien whispered. "Until you started talking about ’red flags’."
Marcus stared at him.
He saw the exhaustion in Damien’s posture. It wasn’t physical. It was the weight of a lifetime of acting.
"You’re not alone," Marcus said.
He reached out. He placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder.
"Not anymore."
Damien looked at the hand. Then he looked at Marcus.
His eyes were wet.
"God," Damien let out a shaky breath. "It’s good to say it out loud."
"It really is," Marcus agreed.
They sat there for a moment. Two ghosts from another world, sitting on a bench in a magic academy.
"So," Marcus said, breaking the silence. "Seattle marketing executive?"
"Chicago life coach?" Damien countered.
"Yeah."
"We sound like the setup to a bad joke," Damien grinned.
"Two transmigrators walk into a bar," Marcus said.
"And one of them accidentally seduces the barmaid, the bouncer, and the owner," Damien finished.
Marcus groaned. "Too soon."
"Come on," Damien stood up. He offered a hand to Marcus. "My treat. We need to drink something that isn’t water."
"My place," Marcus suggested. "I have a bottle of wine from the Roselle Duchy. It was a gift."
"From the Duchess?" Damien raised an eyebrow.
"Shut up," Marcus grumbled. But he took the hand.