The World of this Fantasy Novel is in Crisis

—Welcome, exalted being from the higher realm! We bid you greetings!

Fireworks exploded, and fanfare resounded. The entire world shimmered in the colors of a rainbow. The air sparkled with so much fluttering pollen it made the eyes sting.

The moment they rubbed their eyes, ㅇㅇ awoke from sleep.

‘What a strange dream…’

Blinking slowly, they tried to recall the details of the dream, but it remained fuzzy. Something about being welcomed? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway, ㅇㅇ sat up. The ceiling looked unfamiliar. It wasn’t the room they were used to sleeping in. What on earth was going on?

As soon as the question rose in their mind, they remembered encountering that clump of feathers. If that really happened, then… could this place truly be the world from the novel their older sister wrote?

ㅇㅇ got out of bed and surveyed the room. The ceiling wasn’t high, and the floor space was narrow. The only piece of furniture was the bed, and even that wasn’t particularly comfortable. Not even a single blanket.

‘I hate to think it, but… it really does feel like a prison.’

For now, ㅇㅇ decided to check outside and walked to the window. Not the kind of glass window they were familiar with, though. There was just a rectangular hole right below the ceiling—barely enough to call it a window. It let in little light and seemed made for ventilation more than anything.

To peek out, they had to tiptoe. Half-covered with iron bars instead of glass, the view outside was just enough to see a patchy stretch of grass. No people, no buildings. The only clear thing was that this place was underground.

‘No wonder it smells so musty.’

ㅇㅇ had once lived in a house with a basement. No matter how often it was cleaned, the place always had that stale, damp smell. The familiar scent made their nose wrinkle instinctively.

‘Now that I know it’s underground, it really does feel like a prison.’

Why would the most cherished character in their sister’s novel be in a prison cell? They’d assumed the story was some pastoral, heartwarming tale—but maybe that assumption was totally off.

‘But I’m sure she said…’

Whenever ㅇㅇ asked what her story was about, she’d nervously dart her eyes left and right and say:

“Well, how do I put it… It’s the kind of story where, no matter what, the character defies fate and finds happiness.”

A vague answer, to be sure—but it sounded peaceful enough. A story where the main character avoided all the usual hardships and made only safe, secure choices.

Finishing that brief recollection, ㅇㅇ perched on the edge of the bed. First things first: they had to assess the situation.

It was too dim to see clearly, but the body they were now in was male. Had it been female, it would’ve taken time to adjust—so that was a relief.

They didn’t seem very old, either. The skin on their face and arms was smooth. Judging by eye level, the body was fairly tall. Assuming most of their growth was done, they figured the age was probably late teens or early twenties. Since ㅇㅇ’s original age was twenty, it wasn’t much of a difference.

‘What’s the condition?’

They weren’t especially hungry. Did that mean they hadn’t been imprisoned for long?

It seemed like a reasonable guess. After all, there was no toilet in the room. Not exactly the kind of place where someone would be held for an extended period. Or maybe it just hadn’t been long enough for hunger to set in. In that case, an unbearable wave of hunger could hit soon.

‘Wait—am I actually imprisoned?’

Because the place looked like a cell, they’d assumed they were locked in. To be sure, ㅇㅇ got up to look for a door.

They found one soon enough, but it wouldn’t open. It had no handle. Apparently, both the lock and handle could only be accessed from the outside.

‘So I really am locked up.’

Returning to the bed, they sat down again and resumed thinking.

The most beloved character by the author—presumably the protagonist—starting out in a prison cell… what was that supposed to mean? Definitely not a heartwarming beginning.

Of course, just because it starts in a prison doesn’t mean the character is doomed to a tragic fate. Even The Count of Monte Cristo began in prison…

‘But just because he got revenge doesn’t mean he wasn’t unhappy. The fact that he had to seek revenge in the first place means his life was already screwed.’

Anyway, it was hard to guess more without seeing someone or something.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long before there were signs of life. ㅇㅇ heard footsteps approaching from beyond the door and quickly stood from the bed. They worried the person might just pass by—but thankfully, the steps stopped right outside the door.

In the darkness, they hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a small hatch in the door.

Click.

With a mechanical sound, a small opening—just big enough for a hand—slid open.

It was too narrow to see the person beyond clearly, but at least their eyes were visible.

“Satin.”

The stranger on the other side of the door spoke.

‘Is that my name?’

That was Satin’s first thought, but he didn’t respond right away. It could be more than a name—maybe some kind of title or phrase.

“Satin, why aren’t you answering?”

It seemed it really was his name. From now on, ㅇㅇ was Satin. He approached the door and replied. “Yes…”

“Have you reflected on your actions?”

Reflection, huh. Satin revised his earlier assumption.

This wasn’t a prison—well, it served a similar function, but it was probably more like a reflection room in a communal facility. A place for discipline. The question about reflecting was likely a condition for release.

How should he answer? Would it be better to say he had reflected, or claim he didn’t remember anything?

‘Was this really my sister’s style?’

In possession-type stories that are popular these days, the protagonist usually wakes up in the body of some spoiled noble or disgraced royal—highborn, but treated like a disgrace. In those stories, even if the character suddenly acts strange or forgetful, it’s brushed off. “Young master’s acting odd!” “Something’s wrong with the lady!” Servants run off, and soon the whole family gathers, fretting over the protagonist’s condition.

That’s when the protagonist realizes what novel they’re in. Since it’s a story they already know, everything proceeds smoothly. No need to keep up the amnesia act for long. They can prevent upcoming disasters, mend strained relationships, build wealth and fame with ease—a rapid-fire, satisfying progression.

But Satin knew he wouldn’t be able to follow that kind of trajectory.

‘I never read my sister’s novel…’

Getting thrown into a story without knowing the plot was reckless. Especially if he was already stuck in a reflection room right at the start.

‘Still… there’s probably no need to worry.’

Didn’t his sister say the character would definitely find happiness? There might be a few rough patches along the way, but she wouldn’t have her favorite character wallowing in misery forever.

Satin knew his sister well. It wouldn’t be wrong to call her the kindest person in the world. Even that featherball creature had said it—beings who ascend to higher dimensions were exceedingly rare. Whatever a “higher dimension” actually was.

“You’re not answering. Does that mean you haven’t reflected?”

The voice came again, prompting Satin to finally speak. “I…”

He seized that brief pause to make a decision. “Why am I here?”

They say it’s better to get the worst over with first. Trying to avoid the awkwardness now might just lead to something worse later.

“You keep calling me Satin… is that really my name?”

Satin tried to figure out how to seem like a believable amnesia patient, but he was stumped. Amnesia wasn’t exactly a common condition—the man probably hadn’t encountered it before.

“Who are you? Can you let me out of here?”

No answer came to his string of questions. Satin pressed his face closer to the narrow opening, trying to glimpse the man’s face.

It was too dark to make out his eye color, but the sunken area beneath the brows suggested he wasn’t East Asian. Then again, the name Satin didn’t sound Korean at all.

His sister had a habit of reading web novels on her commute. Occasionally, she’d recommend a good one.

‘She liked fantasy, so I guess she wrote fantasy too.’

Maybe once he got out, he could try spreading modern inventions. Do you know kimchi?

Satin was off in his own little world when—clunk—the door creaked open. He instinctively stepped back.

“You say your memory is gone?”

The man who entered looked fairly old. At least in his sixties—possibly even older. His hair was fully white, leaving no doubt about his age, though his face made it hard to judge precisely.

‘He’s not exactly Western-looking either.’

Western-style fantasy had been popular for ages and still was, but stories set in actual medieval Europe were rare. In Korean-style fantasy, early modern European technology, Joseon Dynasty-like political systems, and people with modern mindsets often mixed together. It was fantasy in the truest sense. Characters’ appearances were rarely purely Western—they usually had a mix of East and West.

It seemed his sister had followed that convention.

‘What do I look like?’

Satin absentmindedly reached up to touch his own face but lowered his hand when he noticed the old man narrowing his eyes at him.

‘Of course he’s suspicious.’

Who would believe someone lost all their memories overnight? Satin could understand the man’s doubts. Still, it wasn’t like pretending he remembered would make memories magically appear. He’d just have to keep bluffing.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“Not exactly…”

Satin glanced around nervously, pretending to be a shy, withdrawn kid. He was naturally introverted, but thinking of this as a story made him feel bolder—so he had to fake it.

“I think… I’ve forgotten people. I can still talk and name objects, but I don’t know who I am, or who you are…”

He mumbled, shifting uneasily, but all the while kept sizing the man up.

His build was average, and he was slightly shorter than Satin. His face looked kind. Even with his brows furrowed, he didn’t seem threatening.

“Is this a prison? Did I commit a crime?”