No sound of birds. No sound of wind.

  I opened my eyes into complete darkness.

  I couldn’t see my arm. My body. Nothing.

  Had I lost my second chance?

  In the midst of the void, a faint voice echoed. Distant. Faint. Growing clearer.

  “Master Jinseo, welcome back.”

  A soundwave shimmered through the dark. A soft blue light blinked into existence.

  (Doctor Haneul’s POV)

  Everyone else gave up hope. But I didn’t.

  A doctor doesn’t abandon his patient.

  But he wasn’t just a patient.

  He was the heart of our kingdom.

  I checked his pulse. Stronger than usual. His temperature? Normal. All signs were stable. A good sign.

  A very good sign.

  Then came a gentle footstep. Calm. Graceful.

  The scent of peach blossoms floated in.

  It was our Queen — Jungjeong Ma-ma.

  (Queen Gyeonghwa’s POV)

  The palace was quiet — too quiet.

  No wind. No songbirds. Only the rustle of dry leaves falling in the courtyard.

  I walked the familiar path to my son’s chamber. As always, Doctor Haneul was there, seated beside Jinseo.

  “How is he?” I asked gently.

  “His heartbeat is stronger than usual, Jungjeong Ma-ma,” Haneul said with a quiet smile. “I believe Wangja-Mama is returning… with that same smile we all miss.”

  Today marked two years since my Jinseo fell asleep.

  I sat beside him, as I had every day.

  And I waited.

  (Eunchae’s POV)

  Ever since Agissi fell into deep sleep, I haven’t been eating well. But who could I tell?

  Sohwa still moves like always — cleaning, cooking, staying by the Queen’s side.

  And Baekho?

  Baekho hasn’t left the Prince’s chamber once. Two years. Nonstop.

  He’s stronger now. They say he can knock out an elephant, take down five men at once.

  And he might need to — because those bandits?

  They’ve changed.

  Red eyes. Razor hands. Twisted.

  I’m just glad Baekho’s ours.

  (Daeyoung’s POV – We Are His Sword)

  “Six incoming. East ridge. Fast,” Minjae called out, calm and focused.

  I signaled the others. No words needed.

  We’ve trained two years for this.

  Two years of drills under Baekho. Two years guarding a sleeping prince. Two years holding Soryun together.

  And now, they come again.

  Ash-Touched.

  Twisted bodies. Red eyes. Burning skin.

  “Let’s remind them this place is protected.”

  The first lunged. I met it mid-air, blade flashing. It split in half.

  Sungho followed with a shout, kicking down another with precise strikes.

  “Two flanking behind the shed!” Minjae warned.

  “I got them!” Harin called out, already moving.

  Jisoo stood his ground, spear steady.

  Clean thrust. One down.

  “Don’t let them near the village!” I barked.

  The fight ended quickly. But our message was clear:

  Soryun is not undefended.

  We carry Jinseo’s name like armor.

  Sungho wiped his blade. “He’s going to be proud.”

  “No,” I said, looking toward the palace. “He’s going to lead us again.”

  (Farmer Kim Dalsu’s POV)

  The rice fields shine brighter now.

  Ever since Wangja-Mama helped us, everything changed.

  No one’s starving. Everyone’s thriving.

  But there’s still a hole in our hearts.

  He hasn’t woken up.

  So we keep working. We clean. We build.

  So that when he does wake — this town will be ready.

  (Joon’s POV)

  The nursery was quiet, the herbs warm against my fingers.

  I mixed medicine, just as my master taught me.

  I wanted to be at the palace, to help Wangja-Mama.

  But my master told me to stay here — to help the people. To serve like he would.

  That day haunts me.

  The battle. The fire.

  The prince who gave everything… and still lives.

  I’ll become the greatest doctor in the world.

  For him.

  (Carpenter Han’s POV)

  The hammer never stopped.

  Not when the skies darkened.

  Not when the prince didn’t wake.

  Not even when people said, “He’s not coming back.”

  But I remembered that boy.

  Ten years old.

  Standing between us and a monster with a broken spear.

  “Wake up soon, Jinseo-ya,” I whispered. “We’ve kept your kingdom standing.”

  (Blacksmith Jang’s POV)

  The forge remembers.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  His first blade. His reforged spear.

  The chains. The ash. The blood.

  They all sing in the flames.

  I don’t pray.

  I prepare.

  Because when he wakes, the monsters won’t wait.

  Neither will I.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The forge doesn’t forget.

  And neither do I.

  (Hana’s POV)

  The night is too quiet.

  Not even the guards speak anymore.

  I sit by the brazier outside his chamber, staring at the flame like it owes me answers.

  He hasn’t opened his eyes in two years.

  But I see him every day. In the way Baekho stands. In the way the villagers whisper his name like a prayer. In the way I still set out three cups of tea — one for me, one for him, one for the future.

  I used to be loud. Bold. Fire in my veins.

  Now… I’ve learned to be still. To burn without showing it.

  If anyone had dared say he was gone, I would’ve cut them down where they stood.

  But no one dares.

  Because we all know.

  He’s not gone.

  He’s just waiting.

  And when he wakes, I’ll be there.

  Sword drawn. Heart ready.

  Because fire never forgets where it came from.

  (Yura’s POV)

  I light incense beside his bedside. The room smells of lavender, of ash, of memory.

  Every day I speak to him, even when no one else is around.

  Not as a maid. Not as a servant.

  But as someone who once saw a boy smile at the stars like he remembered something from another life.

  He was always different.

  He listened more than he spoke.

  He watched people like he was measuring their pain — like he could carry it better than they could.

  And now he sleeps.

  But I believe… his mind is awake. Somewhere, he’s fighting again.

  I smooth the sheets. Wipe the corner of his mouth. Whisper soft prayers into his ear.

  “I’m still here,” I tell him.

  Even if it takes another year, or ten.

  My place is beside him.

  Because love doesn’t fade.

  Not when it’s built on something deeper than words.

  (Mirae’s POV)

  I sneak peaches into his room.

  Not for him to eat — not yet.

  Just to fill the space with something sweet.

  Sometimes I hum lullabies while Sohwa isn’t looking.

  Sometimes I lie on the floor, watching the ceiling, pretending he’ll sit up any second and say, “Mirae, what are you doing on the floor?”

  I’d laugh. He’d smirk. And we’d go right back to pretending we were just kids with no crowns and no monsters.

  But the world isn’t fair.

  He saved it. And now it waits for him like I do.

  I don’t need him to be perfect when he wakes.

  I just need him to remember he’s loved.

  Even if he comes back broken.

  Even if he never laughs the same again.

  I’ll still be here.

  Peaches in hand. Smile ready.

  And a promise sealed in my heart:

  You are not alone, Jinseo-ya.

  You never were.

  (Jinseo’s POV – Mindspace)

  That voice…

  I knew it.

  “Nova?”

  “Master Jinseo. As perceptive as ever.”

  “Am I dead? Did I fail again?” My voice cracked. My chest tightened. “Did I waste this second chance?”

  “No, Master. You protected them. You’re in a coma… but alive. And your mind — is awake.”

  In front of me, a glowing house formed.

  My old house. From the other world.

  “There’s something in your veins,” Nova said. “Metal fused with flame.”

  “Can you use it?”

  “Yes. I can transfer it to your body. Forge it into armor — into a weapon.”

  “Do it.”

  “System initializing…”

  “Analyzing combat logs…”

  “Processing enemy data…”

  A hologram of the monster appeared — burning. Terrifying. Familiar.

  “This creature possessed a unique flame-metal core,” Nova explained. “I recovered a shard.”

  A red fragment floated before me. Alive. Beating like a second heart.

  “You kept a piece of it?”

  “Affirmative. I’ve converted it to a transferable weapon.”

  It twisted, reshaping — a glowing chain wrapped into a tight coil.

  “What is that?”

  “Ashreign: forged from your flame. Enhanced by your enemy’s power. Weapon class: Living chain.

  Power obtain - fire

  Attributes: Adaptive durability. Flame-reactive strikes. Recall bound to user.”

  “You’re giving it to me?”

  “You defeated the monster, Master Jinseo.

  Now… become what they fear.”

  I reached out. The chain wrapped around my arm. It didn’t burn.

  It belonged.

  “Ability transfer complete.”

  “Welcome back… King of Ash.”

  “Would you like to test your new power?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  The old house faded. Replaced by darkness.

  A black field.

  No sky.

  No sound.

  Just me — and Ashreign.

  “Nova, run the simulation.”

  “Engaging Combat Trial: Level 1.”

  Shadowed enemies formed — red-eyed, fast, humanoid. Ash-Touched.

  They charged.

  “I need to know what I can do.”

  The chain uncoiled.

  One swing — one enemy reduced to ash.

  I spun. Lashed. Struck down another with explosive force.

  “Ashreign adapting to user rhythm. Flame resonance increasing.”

  Three enemies rushed me. I slammed my palm into the void floor.

  Ashreign exploded outward — wrapped their legs — yanked them inward.

  Silence followed.

  I stood in the fire.

  Breathing steady.

  No pain.

  Only clarity.

  “They wielded chaos,” Nova said.

  “You wield purpose.”

  I looked at my hands — reforged, awakened.

  “When I wake,” I said quietly,

  “I’ll burn through all of them.”

  The fires of Ashreign dimmed, and the simulation faded into flickering light. The black void around me calmed. No enemies. No roars. Just silence… and Nova’s voice.

  “Simulation complete.”

  I stood still, breathing evenly. Not from exhaustion — but from something heavier.

  “…It’s strange,” I said softly, “How real this all feels.”

  “This is your soulspace, Master Jinseo. Everything here is part of you — memory, power, pain.”

  I looked down at my hands. They shimmered slightly, etched with faint glowing veins of red — like molten rivers beneath skin. I clenched a fist.

  “I never expected to come back here again,” I muttered. “Not after dying once.”

  “And yet… you survived twice.”

  There was a pause. I felt Nova’s presence shift, as if it were staring through me.

  “You know what’s waiting for you out there.”

  “I do.”

  “Your body is still damaged. Wounds deeper than muscle. Fractures in bone. And there is fear waiting in the eyes of those you love.”

  I closed my eyes. “I don’t care if I wake up broken.”

  “Then why hesitate?”

  The silence hung.

  “…Because I remember what it felt like to lose everything,” I said quietly. “I remember the old world. The silence after the screaming. The way it crushed my chest.”

  “And now?”

  “Now…” I opened my eyes. “I’m afraid of losing again.”

  Nova didn’t reply right away. When it did, its voice was softer.

  “You created me to protect the last remnants of your mind, your strategy, your strength. I followed you through death itself. And I will follow you again.”

  “Then tell me the truth, Nova,” I whispered. “Will this world break me like the last one did?”

  “…No.”

  I turned.

  “Because in this world, you’re not alone.”

  That hit harder than I expected.

  I saw them flash through my mind:

  Baekho standing guard at my door.

  Sohwa crying quietly when no one was watching.

  Eunchae pretending everything was fine.

  My mother, praying in silence.

  And the three girls… my wives-to-be… waiting for the boy who had changed their lives without realizing it.

  And the village.

  The town I nearly died for.

  Still standing.

  I smiled.

  “You’re right,” I said.

  Nova’s light pulsed brighter — proud.

  “Would you like me to engage full system integration? Ashreign is stabilized. Your flame-blood composition is compatible. Combat logs have been archived. Physical body regeneration is at 62%. Awakening sequence is now available.”

  I nodded once.

  “Yes, Nova.”

  “Then let us begin.”

  The world began to shatter — not in fear, but in transition.

  The black void around me cracked with beams of white-gold light, pouring in from above.

  Ashreign coiled tighter around my arm, its warmth now steady and alive.

  “One last question, Master Jinseo.”

  “Hm?”

  “When they ask who you are… what will you say?”

  I turned toward the light. The chains hummed. My pulse beat like a war drum.

  “I am the king who stood among fire,” I said.

  “The shield who didn’t break. The blade that learned to burn.”

  I raised my head.

  “And when I wake — I will become everything they fear.”

  “Then wake, King of Ash.”

  (Real World – Prince’s Chamber)

  His fingers twitched first.

  Then a flicker in his brow. A breath caught in his chest — deeper than the rest.

  Queen Gyeonghwa’s hand, which had rested over his gently for hours, trembled. She gasped.

  “Sohwa,” she whispered. “Call the physician.”

  Doctor Haneul rushed in. The monitor beside the bed began to blink faster. Pulse climbing. Breath strengthening.

  Baekho stood outside the chamber. When he heard the rustle — a faint sound — he didn’t move. Just clenched his fist tight.

  Inside, Jinseo’s eyelids parted.

  At first, only a sliver of light.

  Then slowly, fully.

  His piercing blue eyes opened to the world once more.

  Gyeonghwa covered her mouth, tears already spilling.

  “Jinseo-ya…”

  The boy’s gaze was steady. Older. Different.

  Something ancient burned behind those eyes.

  He turned his head slightly. The first words he spoke were barely a whisper.

  “…Mother.”

  And then — with one deep breath — he sat up.

  The world outside would soon know:

  The King of Ash has awakened.