Ryder is a Devil. Not the kind that screamed in fire, but the quiet kind— cold, calculated, bound by command.
A letter has arrived from the Upper Power, sealed in black wax and edged with whispers. It bore a simple instruction: "You are to observe a suffering soul. Keep your presence hidden from human eyes. Guide her... gently, towards death."
The soul’s name: Lane. Age: 24. Time: Year 2016. Condition: "Loneliness. Prolonged. Pain, deeply buried."
Everything is final. Ryder is dressed in his usual— sharp black suit, gloves tight against pale fingers. The air around him pulses with dark energy as he closes his eyes and recited the soul’s information in his mind. But somewhere between thought and descent, a slip of the tongue twists fate.
"Sixteen... twenty," he whispers. Not twenty-sixteen...
When his eyes opens, the world has changed. Stone walls looming with age. Heavy armors lined one side, worn leather tunics hanging like ghosts on pegs. The scent of ash and damp earth lingering in the air.
His eyes narrow. This isn’t 2016. This... this is centuries too early.
He takes a step forward, his polished black shoes silent on the wooden floor. Confused but composed, he moves toward the next room, trying to make sense of the mistake. But before his foot can cross the threshold—
In a blink, a blade is pressed against his throat, gleaming and merciless.
"Who. Are. You?"
The words are sharp, but her gaze sharper, cold. There she stands, Lane- Neģerio Lane. But not the fragile girl he expects. Her stance is unyielding, in her eyes— no fear, but fire.
*In his mind‐ "Who is this lady?"
(You are actually knight, known young lady knight, working for several years in order to save the kingdom. Enjoy your new story! >•<)