Bound by the Script

​Ethan stared at the glowing screen of his phone, his thumb slowly sliding up the glass. The train around him was loud, filled with people rushing home from work, but he did not look up. He didn't want to see the gray walls of the city or the tired faces of strangers. His daily life was always the same. He woke up early, worked a long shift at a dull office job, and headed home late at night.

​The only thing that kept him going was the fantasy world inside his phone. He was currently reading the final chapters of The Shattered Crown. It was a dark, brutal web novel about a world tearing itself apart. The story was famous for its tragic plot, where the main characters suffered constantly, and the hero slowly lost his mind.

​"Next stop, downtown," a mechanical voice announced over the train speakers.

​Ethan barely heard it. He stepped off the train when the doors opened, his eyes still glued to the screen. He began his usual walk down the dark streets toward his apartment. It was past midnight, and the air was chilly, but his mind was completely consumed by the final lines of the book.

​He reached the last page. The ending was terrible. The original protagonist had failed to save anyone, turning into a monster and letting the villain destroy the entire world. Every single character Ethan had spent months reading about was dead.

​Ethan stopped walking and let out a long, heavy sigh. He rubbed his tired eyes, feeling a deep sense of frustration.

​"What a waste of time," he muttered to himself, looking down at the dark screen. "Why would the author write it like that? If I were in that world, I would have changed so many things. The plot holes are ridiculous."

​He was so angry about the ending that he didn't realize where he was standing. He stepped off the side of the path and straight onto the main road.

​A sudden, loud sound tore through the quiet night. Ethan blinked, looking up just in time to see two blinding white lights rushing toward him. There was a terrible screech of tires on the dark road.

Before he could even move his legs, a massive force struck his body.

​The impact was violent. For a split second, a wave of sharp pain rushed through him, and then everything went completely numb. The sound of the street faded away, and his vision dipped into absolute darkness. Tears slipped down his eyes as he realized that his life was slowly fading away.

​Ethan opened his eyes.

​The pain was gone. In fact, he felt incredibly warm and comfortable. He wasn't lying on the hard, cold road, and there were no flashing lights of an ambulance. Instead, he was resting on a large bed with thick blankets and a heavy frame above him.

​He sat up quickly, his heart racing. He looked around the room, his breath catching in his throat. This was not his tiny, cramped apartment, nor was it a normal hospital room. The walls were made of large, dark blocks, covered in massive blankets with detailed pictures of ancient battles. The furniture was made of heavy, dark wood, and the windows were high and curved.

“Where am I?" Ethan whispered. This place is too beautiful to be somewhere he can actually live in, what sick dream is this?

​He caught his breath, realizing his voice sounded completely different. It was lighter, smoother, and lacked the raspy tone he usually had from a long day of talking on the phone at work.

​"Is this some kind of joke?" he asked the empty room, his voice trembling. "Did someone take me to a historical movie set while I was out?"

​He moved to get out of the bed, but the way his limbs moved felt strange and unfamiliar. He held his hands out in front of him, staring at them under the dim light coming through the window. These hands were smaller and thinner than his own. The skin was perfectly smooth, completely missing the rough patches and small scars he had earned from years of normal physical labor.

​A cold wave of panic began to settle deep in his chest. His legs shook violently as he swung them over the edge of the mattress, his bare feet sliding against a thick, soft rug. He needed to find out what was happening to him right now. He scanned the large room and noticed a tall, full-length mirror with a tarnished gold frame standing against the far wall.

​Ethan hurried toward it, his heart throat-high as he stood right in front of the glass and forced himself to look.

​The reflection looking back at him was a complete stranger. It was the face of a young noble, around twenty years old, with sharp features and a narrow jawline. The young man in the glass had jet-black hair, pale skin, and a very thin, delicate build that looked like it had never seen a hard day of work.

​Ethan slowly raised his hand, his fingers shaking as he touched his own cheek. In the mirror, the stranger did the exact same thing at the exact same time. The face was identical to the physical descriptions of Rudeus Vance—the useless, arrogant side character from the very first arc of The Shattered Crown. The character who was supposed to be executed by the protagonist in less than a month.

​Ethan backed away from the glass, his breath coming in short, rough gasps as the terrifying reality hit his mind like a physical blow. No, no, no, this cannot be it. Ethan looked around the room, his heart beat accelerating more, he did not know if to scream or run.

​"What?!" he shouted, his new voice cracking in sheer terror as he stared at the stranger in the mirror. "Who the hell is this? No... no, this can't be me!"