Chapter Text
If there was one thing Arianna hated more than arrogant nobles, it was tragic endings.
She stared at the final page of the worn novel resting in her lap, her fingers frozen around the cover as if refusing to let the story truly end.
The Kingdom of Utopia had fallen.
King Hongjoong sat among the burning ruins of his palace, his lover’s lifeless body cradled against his chest while crimson flames devoured everything they had fought to protect. Standing between the grieving king and the collapsing walls was his loyal knight, Yunho.
The last sentence described him with infuriating simplicity.
“The knight did not look back. Even as the fire consumed the throne room, he remained standing before his king, sword raised toward enemies that no longer mattered, silently accepting that he, too, would die alone.”
Arianna slammed the book shut.
“Oh, come on!”
The sound echoed through the library tower, sharp enough to disturb the dust floating in the late afternoon light. Somewhere beyond the tall windows, the academy continued its usual quiet rhythm, completely unconcerned with the emotional devastation happening at this table.
Across from her, Wooyoung finally lifted his gaze from a scroll he had been pretending to read for the past hour.
“So…”
Arianna pointed at the book like it had personally offended her.
“They all die.”
Wooyoung blinked slowly, then leaned back in his chair.
“I gathered that from your dramatic entrance.”
“The author spent six hundred pages making me fall in love with these idiots just to kill everyone!”
“You cried again, didn’t you?”
“I absolutely did not.”
Wooyoung raised an eyebrow.
“You did.”
Arianna straightened instantly, offended on principle.
“I cried because the ending was unfair.”
He hummed, folding his arms like he had all the time in the world.
“Explain.”
She immediately reopened the book, flipping through pages she already knew too well, as if repetition could somehow fix what the ending had broken.
“Hongjoong and Seonghwa never stood a chance,” she said, tapping a chapter so hard it bent slightly. “Every single decision they make is pushed into tragedy. It’s like the story is actively waiting for them to fail.”
Wooyoung tilted his head, mildly interested now.
“Go on.”
Arianna turned another page, frustration sharpening her voice.
“Here. If someone had just warned Hongjoong not to trust Duke Harrow, half of the political disaster wouldn’t even happen. It’s not fate, it’s bad communication.”
She flipped again, faster this time.
“And here—Seonghwa sacrifices himself because he thinks he’s protecting the king. But if someone had told him the assassination was already being planned—”
Wooyoung finished it for her, unbothered.
“They survive.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Silence stretched for a beat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was with him. Wooyoung only looked mildly entertained, like she was solving a puzzle he already knew the answer to.
“And your favorite?” he asked casually.
Arianna didn’t even hesitate.
“Yunho.”
“I knew it.”
She ignored him immediately, as if acknowledging that would make it worse.
“He deserves so much better.”
“What makes him special?” Wooyoung asked, genuinely curious now.
Arianna’s expression softened without her permission.
“He asks for nothing.”
Her voice lowered slightly, as if the library itself might judge her for caring too openly about a fictional knight.
“He spends the entire novel protecting everyone else.”
Every battle. Every assassination attempt. Every political crisis that should have broken the kingdom long before the ending ever arrived.
He was always there.
Always one step behind Hongjoong.
Always choosing duty like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“And yet…” she added quietly, eyes drifting back to the cover, “there’s this feeling that he’s the only one who never gets anything for himself.”
Her fingers tightened slightly over the edge of the book.
“I think that’s what hurts the most.”
Wooyoung watched her longer than usual.
It wasn’t the kind of silence that felt empty. It was the kind that felt measured, like he was weighing something he had already decided not to say out loud.
“So…”
His voice came softer than before, stripped of its usual teasing edge.
“If you could enter the story…”
Arianna let out a short laugh, more instinct than amusement.
“I know where this is going.”
“Answer.”
There was no playfulness in it now. Just quiet insistence, like he had already asked her this question in his head a hundred times and was finally allowing it to exist between them.
She tapped the book once against the table.
“I’d save them.”
“The king?”
“Obviously.”
“The right-hand man?”
“Of course.”
“And Yunho?”
That question lingered slightly longer than the others, not because she hesitated, but because something about it felt heavier than the rest.
Her expression softened anyway.
“I’d help him find his happiness.”
Wooyoung tilted his head, studying her in a way that no longer felt casual.
“Even if that changed the entire plot?”
Arianna leaned back slightly, as if the answer had always been obvious.
“I’d happily ruin the author’s masterpiece.”
Silence followed.
Not comfortable.
Not awkward.
Something sharper. Something that felt like a line being drawn in the air between them.
Wooyoung suddenly stood.
“Well.”
He stretched his arms overhead, too casual again, too quick to return to normal.
“I should probably get going.”
Arianna frowned immediately.
“That’s it?”
“What?”
“I just poured my heart out.”
“And it was very inspiring.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspicion replacing confusion.
“You are suspiciously calm.”
“I’m always calm.”
“You set the academy fountain on fire yesterday.”
“It deserved it.”
That almost made her smile, but it didn’t fully land. Not with the way he was already turning away.
“What are you planning?” she asked more directly this time.
His grin appeared instantly, like it had been waiting behind his teeth.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
And then he was gone.
No dramatic exit. No lingering presence. Just the quiet absence of him in the corridor outside the library tower, like he had never been there at all.
Arianna exhaled slowly, staring at the empty doorway.
“That man is going to be the death of me.”
Wooyoung didn’t stay gone for long.
Later that night, when the tower had settled into deep silence and even the wind outside seemed distant, his voice appeared again from the corridor outside her room.
“You’re still alive in there?”
She didn’t even look up from where she was sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Unfortunately.”
The door opened without waiting for permission.
Wooyoung leaned against the frame like he belonged there, hands tucked casually into his pockets, expression unreadable in a way that didn’t match his tone.
“Still thinking about your tragic men?”
Arianna grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him without hesitation.
He caught it effortlessly.
“Stop calling them that.”
“They are tragic men.”
“They are fictional men.”
“Same thing.”
“Absolutely not.”
She rolled her eyes, though the tension from earlier still hadn’t fully left her.
“What do you want?”
Wooyoung didn’t answer immediately.
And that—more than anything—was what made her look at him properly.
That pause didn’t belong to him.
It was too careful. Too deliberate. Like he was standing at the edge of something he wasn’t supposed to cross yet.
For once, Wooyoung didn’t rush to fill the silence.
He walked into the room instead, slower this time, and stopped near the edge of her bed. His usual laziness was still there, the familiar slouch in his posture, the casual ease of someone who never seemed fully pressed by the world around him. But underneath it, something had shifted. Sharper. More contained.
Focused in a way that made Arianna instinctively wary.
“Hypothetically,” he said.
Arianna didn’t even let him finish the thought.
“No.”
“I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“You’re going to.”
Wooyoung smiled faintly, like her predictability amused him more than it should have.
“Do you ever think about it differently?”
Arianna frowned, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she studied him more carefully than she liked.
“Differently how?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to choose words that didn’t quite exist in their usual language. That alone was unusual enough to make the air feel tighter.
“What if you could enter the story?”
A short laugh left her before she could stop it. It wasn’t soft or amused. It was immediate, disbelieving.
“Are you serious?”
“Hypothetically.”
“That’s not how magic works.”
“I didn’t ask how magic works.”
Her expression shifted slightly at that. Less annoyance now, more suspicion layered underneath it. She leaned back just enough to study him properly, like she was trying to find the joke she was missing.
“…Why are you asking me this?”
Wooyoung didn’t answer right away.
That pause stretched longer than it should have, and it didn’t feel like hesitation in the usual sense. It felt deliberate, like he was choosing not to give her something she wasn’t ready to hear.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was lighter—but not quite playful.
“No reason.”
And that was what made it worse.
He stepped back toward the door as if the conversation had already reached its end.
“I’ll see you later.”
Then he left.
No flourish. No teasing goodbye. No final remark to soften the edges. Just a clean disappearance into the corridor, like he had never fully anchored himself in the room to begin with.
Arianna stayed still for a moment, staring at the empty doorway.
“…You’re weird,” she muttered, though it didn’t carry its usual certainty.
Wooyoung is never gone for long.
Not really. Not in the way people were supposed to stay gone. Distance never seemed to apply to him properly, as if the rules of space were something he could bend without even trying.
She had just finished brushing her hair when she felt it.
Not fear.
Not alarm.
Recognition.
Magic.
Familiar in a way that made her pause mid-movement, fingers tightening slightly around the brush.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured.
The air in the room shifted almost politely, like reality itself was knocking instead of breaking in. The candles flickered once in response, their flames bending for a second before correcting themselves, as if they had simply forgotten how to behave.
Arianna turned slowly toward the window, already unimpressed.
“If you’re about to teleport me somewhere again without telling me—”
She didn’t get to finish.
Because Wooyoung was already there.
Leaning against the window frame like he had always belonged in that exact spot, like the room had quietly accepted him without permission. His hands were in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression infuriatingly calm.
Arianna stared at him.
“…You left the room just to come back into it through the window?”
Wooyoung hummed lightly, like the question was mildly entertaining.
“I prefer different entrances.”
“That’s not an entrance. That’s breaking into my room.”
“I missed you too.”
“I didn’t say I missed you.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied violence.”
“That’s affection in your case.”
She sighed, reaching for a pillow from the bed without hesitation. The motion was automatic now, almost ritualistic. He caught it before it even reached him, of course, like gravity had agreed to cooperate with him specifically.
Arianna narrowed her eyes.
“What do you want, Wooyoung?”
This time, he didn’t answer immediately.
The pause wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t playful. It didn’t belong to his usual rhythm at all. It felt like he was standing on the edge of something and refusing to step back from it.
When he finally looked at her properly, there was no teasing left in his expression.
Only intent.
“Do you trust me?”
Arianna blinked.
Once.
Then frowned slowly, like the question itself had arrived in the wrong language.
“That’s a weird question.”
“Answer it.”
Her eyes stayed on him longer this time. Not on Wooyoung the chaos incarnate, not on Wooyoung the lazy genius who treated rules like optional suggestions. This version of him felt… still. Not frozen, not distant, just deliberately contained in a way that didn’t match the ease he usually wore like a second skin.
It made the room feel slightly too aware of itself.
“…Yes,” she said finally. “Unfortunately.”
That earned a soft laugh from him, but it didn’t carry its usual brightness. It sounded more like acknowledgement than amusement.
“Good.”
She narrowed her eyes immediately.
“That sounded like I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It didn’t.”
“That absolutely did.”
Wooyoung stepped closer after that, but it wasn’t rushed or impulsive. It was measured, like he was deciding how much space he was allowed to take up in her life at that exact moment. The distance between them shifted, not enough to feel threatening, but enough to make Arianna aware of every inch of air that suddenly mattered.
“I need you to answer something else,” he said.
Arianna sighed, already bracing herself.
“Another hypothetical?”
“Yes.”
She groaned under her breath, rubbing her temple like that might physically stop him from continuing.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“That’s because I don’t trust you alone in a room with my furniture.”
That finally pulled something from him. A faint smile, softer than usual, less like a weapon and more like something unguarded slipping through. It lasted only a second before settling back into that strange calm he was carrying tonight.
“If you had the chance,” he said slowly, “to enter that story… and change the plot… would you do it?”
Arianna stopped.
Not dramatically. Not outwardly. But something in her expression tightened, like her mind had suddenly stopped treating the conversation as casual. The air didn’t change, but her awareness of it did, sharpening in a way she didn’t fully like.
“…Wooyoung.”
“I’m serious.”
“I already answered this.”
“No,” he said gently, and that single word was enough to make her pause again. “You answered it as a reader.”
Silence settled between them.
It wasn’t empty. It was full in a way that made her suddenly more aware of the room, the window, the faint flicker of candlelight that felt too slow to keep up with the conversation.
Arianna frowned slightly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Wooyoung tilted his head, watching her like she was something he was trying not to interrupt mid-becoming.
“I mean…” he said slowly, “what if the story could actually hear you?”
A short laugh left her, automatic at first, but it didn’t fully land. It dissolved too quickly, like even she didn’t believe in it as much as she wanted to.
“That’s not how anything works.”
“It might be.”
“Wooyoung.”
He didn’t move this time. Didn’t smile. Didn’t retreat into irony or deflection. He simply stayed there, holding her gaze with a kind of attention that felt too deliberate to be casual.
And that was when she noticed it properly.
Not a change in his posture.
Not in his expression.
But in the absence of everything she usually expected from him. The chaos wasn’t gone, but it was… contained. Like it had already served its purpose and was now waiting quietly in the background.
Her voice lowered slightly without her permission.
“…What are you planning?”
Wooyoung exhaled once.
Slow.
Controlled.
Not like someone thinking.
Like someone confirming.
“Something you’re probably going to hit me for later,” he said.
Arianna’s eyes narrowed instantly.
“That is not reassuring.”
He took a step back after that. Just one. But it felt intentional, like he was reintroducing distance into a space he had already crossed too far. As if that made any difference anymore.
“It’s already done,” he added quietly.
The words didn’t land immediately.
And then they did.
Arianna froze.
“…What?”
Wooyoung lifted his hand slightly.
Not high. Not dramatic. Just enough that the gesture existed between them, like permission being offered rather than force being used.
The air shifted.
Not loudly.
Not violently.
But in a way that made everything feel suddenly less stable, like reality had briefly forgotten what shape it was supposed to hold.
Arianna stood up immediately.
“Wooyoung—what did you do?”
He looked at her then.
And for the first time since she had known him, there was no trace of teasing left in his expression. No joke hiding behind his words. No escape route disguised as humor.
Only something calm.
Something final.
“I’ll see you on the other side, bestie.”
And the room folded.