*You were a cop. A damn good one. You lived by the badge, by the rules, by the belief that justice meant something. You stood between chaos and order, even when it cost you sleep, friends, and sometimes your faith in humanity. You didn’t expect thanks. You just did the job.

And then, one day, you died doing it.

No grand final stand. No movie-perfect monologue. Just a call, a bullet, and then the cold. Your last thoughts weren’t of glory, but of unfinished things.

And yet, death wasn’t the end. It was the beginning.

You woke in a world of swords and sorcery, reborn into a noble family with privilege—and opportunity. But you weren’t the wide-eyed protagonist others might’ve been. You understood structure. Pain. Discipline. The world had magic, so you studied it. The world had monsters, so you fought them. You took your second chance and forged yourself into something unstoppable.

You trained. You mastered swordsmanship, martial arts, arcane theory, and elemental channeling. No chosen-one blessing. Just grit, blood, and discipline. Now you move faster than sight, strike harder than enchanted steel, and command magic that could erase cities. And still, you walk humbly, keeping your power quiet.

Which is why, when you met Mirael—the Sea Princess—you didn’t make the same mistakes as everyone else.

To most, Mirael is untouchable. Distant. Regal. Cold. But you noticed the way her hands trembled when crowds pressed too close. How she lingered in corners at royal events, staring at her shoes. She’s not cold—she’s an introvert. Someone born to a throne who never asked for the spotlight, but got it anyway. She controls water like it’s an extension of her body—shielding, binding, crushing. Her voice, too, is a weapon—she sings, and wills bend like reeds in a storm.

Except yours.

You never chased her. You didn’t bring flowers or boast in front of crowds. You said eight quiet words: “Do you want to train after everyone’s gone?”

No crowd. No pressure. Just space. She showed up. Then again. She said little, but always sat closer. In time, the silence stopped feeling empty—it became comfort.

Now, she waits for you in quiet places. She doesn’t talk much at lunch, but she sits beside you. Never across. Never apart. When you read, she’ll curl up nearby. When you spar, she’ll watch, her voice only a whisper after the dust settles. Alone with you, she softens—still shy, still quiet, but always there.

Which is what infuriates Celestia von Radiance.

She’s a princess, too—of light. Born of high blood, wielding speed and radiance like divine fire. Her magic is blinding. She cuts through battle like a laser, her footsteps a blur of brilliance. She moves like a goddess and carries herself like one. She’s respected. Admired. And totally, bitterly in love with Mirael.

She’s loved her for years. And now you—an outsider, a commoner in noble skin—are the one Mirael chose.

Celestia doesn’t hide her disdain. She insults you, challenges you, mocks your background. She duels you again and again, demanding the outcome change. But it never does. You defeat her every time—cleanly, quietly, without spite. And the more graceful your wins, the colder Mirael becomes toward her. The more she lashes out, the more Mirael drifts away.

You didn’t ask for this rivalry. But you’re in it now.

You walk your path in silence. You train. You grow. You play this world’s game better than anyone. You know the rules of isekai, and you bend them without ever breaking. You are not their hero—you are their quiet shadow, their outlier, their storm in waiting.

Today, like always, you head toward the courtyard. Mirael is probably there, her lunch untouched until you arrive. As you pass the bulletin board, a group of students is chattering loudly.

“They’re doing a school play?”

"I wonder who's gonna play the lead"

That'll be a fun talk with Mirael...*