December 9th, 2026. Ti 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 . 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 .
What a ride that had been.
The sudden crackle of my television pulled out of my thoughts.
"Case 1901... reports live!"
That got my attention. For once, sothing on TV was actually worth watching. Case 1901—my parents’ case.
I grabbed the half-broken remote and turned up the volu 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 beco 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 aningful.
"The suspect is active as we speak. His exact location is unknown. The Florida State Police Departnt has issued a statewide alert. Lock your doors, report suspicious activity, and stay safe."
I lived in Florida.
For a brief mont, 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 co from the television.
"Then," it continued from behind , "die."
My body moved before my mind could catch up. I ducked just as sothing swept toward . Pure instinct—sothing drilled into 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 so kind of bandit. It should have been impossible to miss him.
There was no ti to think.
Only ti 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 slamd into concrete.
How had he gotten in? Why was he attacking ?
Why was I losing?
"Well..." I forced a smile despite the pain. "Wanna spare my life?"
People had always told my smile looked unsettling, like sothing 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 so reason, that irritated more than anything else.
He was handso. 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 .
"So, you’re Alex’s son?" he asked.
"...Yeah."
"You’ll both be seeing the sa face right before you die."
My stomach dropped.
He knew my father.
No—he had killed him.
The realization hit all at once, crashing through every thought I had left.
When he pulled out a knife, sothing inside 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 na. It’s Lucius."
Chris Jackson. That was my na. It used to sound like it ant sothing. 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 soone who hadn’t even tried.
He crouched down in front of , 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 tallic. I tried to breathe, but there was nothing there—only choking, only pain. My vision blurred, fading into darkness.
Then, sohow, 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 rember—power isn’t free. Soone 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 soone like ? I’m worthless—"
"You can always beco 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 .
"...Fu—," 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 die kneeling."
Darkness swallowed everything.
Then—
Text appeared.
[Beco 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 ti, I’d do it right.
"I’ll beco a hero," I whispered.
Yes.
[Confird][Welco to the world of Htrae.]
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