DISCLAIMER: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
The ghostly hull of the Gilded Banshee groaned as it scratched the obsidian sands of the Isle of Echoes with a groan. Except for the quiet, repetitive thrumming of the golden light at its highest point, the island was a jagged fragment of reality. The Mirror of Truth, a massive slab of silver glass that throbbed with the multiverse's heartbeat, stood between the mountain trail and the shore.
Leo's voice crackled over the shared link, "Alright, crew, listen up," sounding less like a cosmic fixer and more like a worried parent. "The Mirror isn't a physical barrier. It's a narrative filter. It reflects your 'Original Trope'—the person the authors intended you to be before Reinn broke the rules. If you can't look at your own reflection and stay 'real,' you'll be absorbed back into the script."
With her boots sinking into the black sand, Reinn got off the ship first. The CEO, the Duke, the Prince, and the Pirate trailed behind her. The world held its breath for a moment as they stood before the glass.
The reflections started to distort as the mirror flickered.
Giywon is unable to recognize himself. He saw a cold, haughty, and terrifyingly golden-lit image of himself. This Giywon was the "Tyrant Prince"—a man who viewed love as a conquest and people as puppets. The image grumbled: "You are nothing but a spoiled child playing at being a hero. Without your crown, you are empty."
Even darker was Dyierrean's reflection. He was shown as a blood-soaked, savage wolf towering atop a mountain of corpses. It was the cliché of the "Tragic Monster"—the man who is destined to lose everyone he cares about. "You are a weapon, not a man," the reflection snarled. "Why do you pretend you can protect her?"
Ji-Hoon saw a blue, frigid silicon replica of himself. He was the "Clockwork CEO," a data-driven individual. "Love is an inefficiency," the reflection said. "You are trying to buy a soul to fill the void."
A fading, two-dimensional sketch was the stinging image that even the roguish newcomer Killian had to contend with. He was the "Disposable Rogue"—a figure designed to deliver a brief thrill before being forgotten. "You have no depth," the sketch muttered. "Once the chapter ends, you vanish."
The burden of their "Original Designs" crushed the men's spirits, causing them to retreat. The journey was now a struggle for their identities rather than a game.
Reinn moved to the middle of the group and stood directly in front of the mirror. She avoided glancing at her own image. She gave them a look.
"Look at me!" she demanded, her voice resonating with the power of someone who has changed her own fate. "Giywon, you aren't a tyrant. You're the man who burned his hands trying to cook for me. Dyierrean, you aren't a monster. You're the man who held my hand when I was a ghost. Ji-Hoon, you aren't a machine. You're the man who risked his life against a pink Kraken just because I asked."
With a gentle smile, she turned to face Killian. "And you... You aren't disposable. You're the only man here who made me laugh when I thought the world was ending."
It wasn't about the men saving the girl; rather, it was about the lady they loved reminding them that they were human. This was the season's Mature Romance. Reinn leaned out and touched the Mirror one by one. The cliches were broken into a thousand innocuous pieces by the "Ink of Free Will" on her fingertips, which worked like acid on the glass.
The way to the summit opened as the Mirror broke. The Compass of Desires was at the top, perched on a pedestal of starlight. It was a delicate gold and ivory instrument.
"The needle points to the person you truly belong with," Leo muttered. "But wait... look at the needle."
Together, the four men arrived at the pedestal, but none of them was indicated by the needle as they stood around it. Rather, it broke into four distinct needles, each aimed at a different man.
"It's a glitch!" exclaimed Giywon.
"No," Reinn replied, her eyes widening as she came to terms with the reality. "It's not a glitch. The compass doesn't point to 'The One.' It points to the 'Possibilities.' In a world without destiny, the choice isn't the Compass's to make. It's mine."
But a Vision of the Future—a preview of the impending wedding—flickered in the air as the compass's light passed over them.
Reinn was standing at the altar in the vision, but the man next to her was moving. Giywon, in his royal gold, briefly appeared, followed by Dyierrean in his dark northern furs, Ji-Hoon in a sleek black tuxedo, and Killian in his crimson velvet.
The four pictures then blended. The shape transformed into a man, his face still blurry, but he was dressed in a cloak bearing the crests of the four: the Anchor, the Dragon, the Wolf, and the Diamond.
Breathless, Dyierrean asked, "What does it mean?"
With a playful smile on her lips, Reinn muttered, "It means that I'm not choosing a husband. I'm choosing a Dynasty."
The Compass was abruptly taken from the pedestal.
It was Leo.
"Sorry, guys," Leo replied, a look of deep sadness taking the place of his roguish smirk. With a red alarm blazing on his tablet, he gripped the compass tightly. "I didn't tell you the whole truth. The Compass isn't a prize for a husband. It's the Power Source for the Nexus. If I don't take this back to the Source World now, your Empire will collapse under the weight of all these crossing genres. I'm closing the door, Reinn. For good."