"You probably think I'm the hero. I'm not."

"Heroes save kingdoms. They slay dragons, rescue the innocent, change the world. Me? I get dropped into their stories halfway through, with no warning and no glory. Sometimes, I don't even have a real name—just whatever the author scribbled in for a side character who was supposed to die."

"But I change the endings. That's my curse. Or maybe it's my purpose. I don't know anymore."

Right now, I'm a stable boy in a kingdom on the brink of collapse. I sleep on hay that smells like iron and sweat. My hands are blistered from reins and sword hilts, even though no one in this world believes I can fight. They call me "Kale." That's the name I woke up with when I arrived in this book two weeks ago. In this story, the prince is meant to betray his kingdom, doom thousands, and rewrite history in blood. That's the ending. Or it was.

I haven't decided if I'm going to stop it yet.

Sometimes, the endings are painful for a reason. Sometimes, they're deserved.

I used to be a boy with too much time and too few answers. Aeon—that's my real name. Not Kale, not Dren, not Mavien, or any of the others I've been called in these books. Just Aeon. I grew up in an orphanage that forgot about me even while I was still inside it.

It wasn't cruel, just... tired. The walls were always quiet. Too quiet. No laughter, no crying, just the sound of pages turning. Those pages were my world. The library wasn't big—just around containing 71 books but I read every one of them until the covers faded and the spines cracked like dry skin.

Fantasy. Mystery. Tragedy. Romance. I consumed them all.

Not because I wanted escape—but because they made me feel. Feel seen. Feel real. The characters had destinies. Pain. Power. Even when they lost, they mattered.

I never did. Not until the night I opened that book.

I still remember the title. The Ash Prince.

It was the kind of story that sticks with you—not because it was perfect, but because it tried to be. The characters burned with feeling, the plot twisted like smoke, but the ending... gods, the ending was hollow. The main character died alone. Betrayed. Forgotten. It felt like it was written just to hurt the reader, like a punishment for caring.

I finished it late that night in my corner of the dormitory, curled under a ratty blanket. And when I turned the last page, I whispered to the dark:

"I wish I could change it."

Just like that.

Not a ritual. Not a prayer. Just a tired voice. A stray thought. But something must have heard me.

Because when I opened my eyes... I was there.

In the book. In that world. Not as the hero, but as a servant in the palace. I didn't understand it at first. I thought it was a dream. But the pain was real. The hunger was real. The story was alive.

And it was happening again.

So I stopped it.

I warned the Ash Prince. I changed a single decision, shifted one conversation—and the tragedy unraveled. He survived. Lived. Loved. The kingdom endured.

And when it was over, when the story reached its new ending, I felt something pull me away. Like a hand through mist. I woke up back in the orphanage, The Ash Prince still open in my lap... but the final chapter was different. The words had changed.

No one believed me. Of course they didn't.

But a week later, it happened again.

That's the rule, you see. I can only enter the books from that library. No new ones. No outside ones. Just the seventy one that I practically memorized growing up. But they're not the same anymore. They've shifted. Rewritten themselves. Rearranged.

Each time I go in, it's harder to tell what's original and what's changed because of me.

I've entered fifty books so far. And not all of them went well.

One was a murder mystery where I tried to save the wrong suspect. Another was a world where time looped endlessly until I made the right choice—but by then, I wasn't even sure what "right" meant. One story didn't want to be changed at all. It fought me. Bent reality around me. That one still haunts me.

I try to make things better, but not every story wants a happy ending.

And here's the worst part: I think something is watching. Waiting. Like the stories are aware now—like they know I'm the one who doesn't belong.

Sometimes I wonder if the books are using me. If each change I make isn't rewriting the story, but feeding something else. Something larger.

I've found pages that weren't there before. Whole scenes that don't belong to any version I read. And once, just once, I saw a blank book on the shelf. No title. No author. Just waiting.

I'm scared of what might happen when I open it.

Because I think that book... is about me.

So no. I'm not the hero. I'm not the villain either.

I'm just the one who walks between endings, who slips through pages and picks at the threads of fate. Maybe that makes me a fool. Maybe something worse.

But if you're reading this, maybe you're like me.

Maybe you grew up in the quiet places. Maybe you whispered things to the dark, not expecting anyone to hear. Maybe you loved stories so much, you lived in them.

If so... I hope you never find this library.

But if you do, remember this:

Every ending can be rewritten.

But not without a cost.

In the city of vereliya, the small city which is located in outskirts, surrounded by many mountains and a forest.

That is where a orphanage called Saint Ellian was located.

Aeon was born in a city that forgot its own name.

The people called it Virelya, but no one knew if that was what it had always been called, or if the city had simply accepted the name one day like a secondhand coat. It lay nestled in a crescent valley between hills that glowed blue under moonlight and forests where the trees whispered names not found in any map. The stars above Virelya never stayed still. They curved slowly across the sky in long, spiraling paths—as if even the heavens were caught in a story they couldn't escape.

The city was old, but not ruined. Time moved slower there, like the wind had grown tired and only wandered .

And at the heart of the city, hidden behind three rusted gates and a wall of ivy, stood the orphanage.

The Orphanage of Saint Ellian

It wasn't a grand building. More like a forgotten cathedral stitched to a crooked house. The windows were too tall, the ceilings too low. It creaked when it breathed. But it stood, and that was enough.

They called it Saint Ellian's Home for the Unnamed.

Nobody knew who Saint Ellian was. There were no statues, no history. Just a name etched above the heavy front doors in a language no one remembered how to speak.

The children who grew up there weren't given names when they arrived. Instead, they earned them over time—through kindness, mischief, bravery, or sorrow. Aeon earned his the day he stopped answering to anything else.

He was the quiet boy. The one who never cried. The one who wandered the halls like a ghost until he found the library.

The Library Itself

It was locked, at first. No one remembered the key. But Aeon found a way in—through a forgotten door in the laundry room that led into the stone underbelly of the orphanage. He wasn't trying to find magic. He was just trying to hide.

What he found was a room with 71 books. Exactly 71. No more, no less. The shelves were built into the walls like bones. The titles were strange—faded ink and languages not quite right. Some books hummed faintly when opened. Others were cold to the touch.

No one else read them. No one else could. He tried once, showing a girl a page from The Thief of Clouds, but the words swam like fish and vanished the moment she blinked.

Only Aeon could read them. Only Aeon could hear them whisper his name.

And though the other children called it a dead room, Aeon knew better.

The books were alive. They were waiting.

For someone to enter that room and start takling them. That's the when Aeon found himself a new happiness. Those books became his joy and sorrow. He started linked himself with those books .

And time flew like wind 8 years later . Aeon who has turned Eighteen years old . Reading the last book . Suddenly shouted and through that and said what was that ending. And thought if it were him he could have written the best ending.

After rooming around the room he took the book and put it on his lape he said " I wish I could change it " and slept.

When he opened up his eyes , he found himself in the small alley . Covered in the dirt and animals dung. He thought how did he end up here, he was in the library so how he came to this place . Then he heard a horn sound , he followed that sound and saw the parade and soldiers holding the flag which had the symbol of the shining sun in the down.

Then he realised that this flag is flag of the city of rising sun also known as holy city of luminiya ,the God of sun, "Paraciss ".

He was transmigratted in the novel that he was reading last night ,"Chronicles of lady Sarah"

That was the change of Fate for him.

That changed his Entire life .

The life that was full of emptiness, suddenly changed, At first he couldn't understand what had happened, The last novel of the library that he read last night now— that fictional world is his reality.

Among the seventy-one books in the orphanage library, The Chronicles of Lady Sarah was the first novel Aeon entered.

He had been shocked—confused and disoriented, with no clue how or why he had been pulled into its world. But questions had to wait.

Survival came first.

Using the knowledge he had from reading the story, Aeon adapted. Slowly. Quietly. He learned the rules of the world, the faces behind the names, and the hidden cracks in fate.

And in time, he began to change it.

But that was only the Beginning .

The Chronicles of Lady Sarah told the story of the imperial princess of Vereska—Lady Sarah van Lascey—and how she destroyed her own kingdom.

She was once seen as the heart of Vereska: soft-spoken, gentle, and endlessly kind. A princess who cared deeply for her people, her land, and her crown. The citizens adored her, proudly declaring, "She is our princess." They would have given their lives for her.

And yet, she repaid their love—not with loyalty, but with ruin.

Only I, Aeon, knew the truth—the truth behind why the beloved Lady Sarah did what no one ever imagined.

What she felt.

What she endured.

The weight of her circumstances.

The pain that drove her to betray the kingdom that adored her.

I knew it all.

And I used that knowledge to survive in her world.

"It had been two years since I came into this world.

Here, I was no longer Aeon. I had become Noil—a mere bellboy in the royal palace, serving the third prince of Vereska, Lucas van Lascey. Among the five royal children, Lucas was known as the most incompetent. The second son of the king, and third in line, he was overshadowed by all his siblings. His jealousy and inadequacy festered until it soured into rage."

"He was never considered a worthy successor to the throne. Mocked by his peers and ignored by the court, Lucas turned his frustration inward—taking it out on his subordinates, his servants... and I was one of them."

"But Lucas had his own story."

"And I, Aeon—now Noil—was trapped in the world of The Chronicles of Lady Sarah, the first of the seventy-one books in the orphanage library."

"I was caught in a dilemma. The kingdom was doomed to ruin, and my master, Prince Lucas, was despised by nearly all of Luminiya. But I knew this story. I had read its ending. I knew the pieces behind the curtain. And so, to survive—and to change fate—I used every ounce of that knowledge."

"I helped Lucas clean his tarnished image. I guided him in using his title to forge connections with hidden characters and long-lost allies. And in time, I reached her—the woman who shone like the sun, the one destined to bring ruin: Lady Sarah."

Lady Sarah van Lascey. The radiant daughter of King Marcus. The light of Vereska.

The Chronicles of Lady Sarah was her story—of how the kindest soul in the kingdom would become its greatest destroyer. She was beloved, adored by the people, a beacon of hope. They would chant her name in pride: Our princess. And yet, she was the one who brought the kingdom to its knees.

Only I, Aeon, knew why.

I alone understood what forced her hand. The betrayal. The grief. The impossible choices. She never intended to destroy Vereska—but circumstances left her no other path.

Her downfall began with her eldest brother, Karl van Lascey.

Karl was perfect: in politics, swordsmanship, ethics, leadership. He was the heir everyone expected. But all of that changed when Sarah was chosen as the Saintess of Paraciss—the Sun God. Her light outshone his, her popularity grew. The people's love began to shift.

Fearful of losing the throne, Karl sought forbidden magic. He made a pact with darkness. He schemed in silence, manipulating his siblings as pawns. He cursed Lucas, the third prince, haunting him with visions and branding him a criminal. He turned Karlo and Loran, the fourth and fifth princes, into undead abominations. And ultimately, he used forbidden rituals to turn the citizens of Luminiya into the walking dead.

Sarah had no choice. To save the world, she had to destroy her own.

But I changed that future.

I saved Prince Lucas from his death. I freed Karlo and Loran from the curse. And at the very end, I stood beside Princess Sarah, preventing her from razing the kingdom she loved.

Now, in the Tower of Luminiya, Sarah and I stood before the ruined body of Karl, who had perished in battle—a war between holy light and corrupted magic.

I took a breath, blood still in the air.

"Everyone is safe now, Princess," I said.

She smiled gently. "Yes, they are. It's all thanks to you, Noil. Because you believed in me."

As I looked at her, I thought, This world is saved. But… what about me?

Sarah approached and touched my shoulder. "What are you thinking? It's time to go."

"Sure," I replied softly.

A month later, the grand halls of the imperial palace echoed with celebration. King Marcus stood tall at the altar of power.

"I am honored to welcome you all on this joyful day," the king announced. "Today, I step down from the throne and place the future of Vereska in the hands of the one who saved it—my daughter, Sarah."

The people erupted in cheers. The streets were filled with flowers and dancing children. Joy spilled from every window.

Sarah ascended the steps to the throne and sat as Queen of Vereska.

From the back of the hall, I—Noil, the bellboy of a forgotten prince—watched in silence. Our eyes met across the distance.

"Congratulations, my Queen," I whispered.

Sarah's eyes sparkled as she smiled at me.

She rose from the throne, silencing the crowd with her presence.

"This kingdom wasn't saved by me alone," she said. "It was saved by our soldiers, our citizens, and my brothers. But above all, there was one person who never gave up. Who walked beside me through fire and never lost faith."

Her gaze found me again.

"Noil, come forward."

I froze. Then, slowly, Noil stepped out and knelt before her.

"He stood by my side when no one else did," she declared. "And for that, I name him Head of Homoniya."

Shock rippled through the hall. I could only stare, wide-eyed, as she smiled and said, "You deserve it."

Later that night, I walked the palace halls alone, the weight of her words still echoing in my ears.

At a window, I paused. The moon glowed above the quiet city.

It's glowing… not like the orphanage, I thought.

I returned to my chambers, laid down with thoughts of Saint Ellian, the library, and the forgotten city of Virelya.

And when I opened my eyes—

The golden throne, the cheers, her smile...

All of it was gone.

I was lying on the cold wooden floor of the orphanage library.

The same dust-covered books.

The same silence.

As if nothing had ever happened.

As if it was all just a dream.

But I remembered everything.

I had lived an entire life... and now I was back where it all began.