OPERATION: Hundred Ways to Kill the Enemy
Chapter 1: I DON'T WANNA DIE, I'M STILL A SINGLE AND A VIRGIN...
From a world far removed from the pages of history, Ethan Vance wakes to find himself trapped inside the character of the same name – the youngest son of one of the most powerful families in the kingdom.
The Vance's command influence rivaling even the royal house, controlling a quarter of all trade and business across the land.
But as Ethan delves into the truth of this reality, he makes a devastating discovery: in the original novel’s tragic ending, this version of himself falls at the hands of a hidden enemy, cut down before he can ever claim his place in the family.
Desperate to return to his own life, Ethan learns there is only one way out – he must eliminate the very person responsible for his character’s death. With time running short and danger lurking in every shadow of the capital, he launches a meticulous campaign he dubs...
"Operation: A Hundred Ways to Kill the Enemy"
Each plan is crafted with precision, blending his modern knowledge with the cunning required to survive in a world of political intrigue, family ambition, and unexpected connections – including a complicated bond with someone he never expected to care for, threatening to unravel everything he’s worked for.
In a game where trust is a luxury and betrayal is always one step away, Ethan must decide how far he’s willing to go to reclaim his freedom… and whether the life he’s fighting to leave behind might be the one he’s meant to live.
Ethan Vance, MC
I'm going to survive...
Ethan Vance, MC
...and leave alive.
I DON'T WANNA DIE, I'M STILL A SINGLE AND A VIRGIN...
The morning sun streams through the large windows of Westfield Academy’s library, catching on the dust motes dancing above a table tucked in the corner.
Ethan Vance slumps back in his chair, his brown silky hair falling over his forehead as he runs a hand through it – the strands so smooth they slip right through his fingers.
At six feet tall, he towers over most of his classmates, his tanned skin a reminder of all the afternoons he’d spent goofing off at the park instead of studying (though you’d never guess it from his spot at the top of their grade).
His ash–tea almond eyes scan the textbook in front of him, then flick up to his best friend Freya, who’s just plopped down across from him with two coffees.
Freya Ang
Let me guess – you aced the advanced physics exam again, but somehow managed to crash and burn with yet another girl?
He grins, pushing his hair out of his eyes – the movement highlighting the small dimple in his left cheek.
Ethan Vance, MC
How do you always know? It’s like you’ve got a sixth sense for my romantic disasters.
Ethan Vance, MC
And for the record, I didn’t crash and burn – I executed a perfectly planned tactical retreat.
Freya Ang
*Raises an eyebrow*
Freya Ang
A retreat that involved you telling her you thought her cat looked like a tiny angry gargoyle?
Ethan Vance, MC
*Sits up straight, eyes wide with what he clearly thinks is valid reasoning*
Ethan Vance, MC
But it does! Have you seen Mr. Whiskers?
Ethan Vance, MC
Dude’s got resting murder face.
Ethan Vance, MC
I was just being honest – that’s a good quality in a person!
Freya Ang
*Laughs, sliding his coffee across the table*
Freya Ang
Yeah, real good quality when you’re trying to get someone to go out with you.
Freya Ang
How long did this one last?
Ethan Vance, MC
*Takes a long sip, wincing slightly*
Ethan Vance, MC
Two weeks and three days. Personal best, actually. Beat my last record by four whole days!
Freya Ang
Wow. Celebratory pizza later?
Ethan Vance, MC
*Beams, his dark eyes lighting up*
Ethan Vance, MC
Only if we get the one with pineapple AND jalapeños. I refuse to let society dictate what belongs on pizza. Plus...
*He leans forward conspiratorially*
Ethan Vance, MC
-I just figured out the formula for calculating quantum entanglement.
Ethan Vance, MC
Well… most of it. I might have gotten distracted thinking about whether penguins have knees.
Freya Ang
*Shakes her head fondly*
Freya Ang
You know, you’re brilliant enough to solve problems nobody else can touch, but when it comes to talking to girls, you turn into a complete idiot.
Ethan Vance, MC
*Pretends to be offended, placing a hand over his heart*
Ethan Vance, MC
Hey! I’m a charming idiot. And it’s not my fault – every time I try to be smooth, something weird just pops out of my mouth.
Ethan Vance, MC
Last month I told a girl her laugh sounded like “a flock of happy seagulls discovering a french fry truck.”
Ethan Vance, MC
*Grins again, unapologetic*
Ethan Vance, MC
In my defense, it was a really nice laugh. And seagulls are passionate creatures.
Ethan Vance, MC
You gotta respect that kind of dedication to carbs. Anyway...
He taps his textbook with his pen.
Ethan Vance, MC
– at least with science, there are rules.
Ethan Vance, MC
With love… he makes a face …it’s like trying to solve a puzzle where all the pieces keep changing shape and color.
Freya Ang
Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place?
Ethan Vance, MC
*Snorts, gathering his books*
Ethan Vance, MC
Where else am I supposed to look?
Ethan Vance, MC
The math club?
Ethan Vance, MC
Last time I checked, they’re more interested in pi than PDA.
Ethan Vance, MC
Besides, I’ve confessed to… let’s see, seven girls this year?
Freya Ang
*Standing up with him*
Freya Ang
That’s not true, and you know it.
Freya Ang
You’re kind, you’re funny even when you’re being ridiculous, and you always help people out without being asked.
Freya Ang
Remember when you spent three weeks tutoring that freshman even though you had finals?
His playful demeanor softening a little.
Ethan Vance, MC
Yeah, well… someone had to. Kid was about to cry every time he saw an algebra equation.
Ethan Vance, MC
But that’s different – helping people is easy. Making them like you back?
He blows a strand of hair out of his face.
Ethan Vance, MC
Impossible mission, level one thousand.
Freya Ang
Just give it time, okay?
Freya Ang
Now come on – your “personal best” breakup deserves at least two slices of pizza.
He brightens up instantly, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Ethan Vance, MC
You’re right! And I’m gonna use this time to come up with a foolproof plan for my next confession. I’m thinking of opening with a magic trick I learned.
Ethan Vance, MC
You know – pull a rose out of my sleeve, say something smooth like…
He pauses, then grins mischievously...
Ethan Vance, MC
“I hope this flower doesn’t make you feel thorny about going out with me?”
Freya Ang
"Stops walking, staring at him"
Freya Ang
Ethan. Please don’t.
Ethan Vance, MC
*Laughs, already heading for the door*
Ethan Vance, MC
No promises! But hey – if nothing else, I’ll give ‘em a story to tell their friends, right?
Ethan Vance, MC
“Remember that tall tan guy who tried to pick me up with a pun about roses?”
Freya Ang
💭 Why am I friends with him again?
Tuesday afternoon, the sun hangs low in the sky as Ethan jogs across the empty crosswalk, his brown silky hair slightly windswept from the run.
He’d just finished helping Freya carry boxes to her new apartment, and now he’s racing to make it to his little sister’s recital on time – he’d promised he’d be there, even if he’d almost forgotten his tie (it’s stuffed in his pocket, crumpled but ready).
His tall frame moves easily through the quiet street, tanned skin glowing under the golden light, dark almond eyes fixed on the music hall just a block away.
He pulls out his phone to shoot her a quick text.
MESSAGE
To My Lil' Sissy🩶
5 mins tops! Save me a seat next to mom 🥹🥹🥹
-From Ya'h Bro
When he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. A delivery truck, its brakes squealing, swerving wildly across the median toward to stray cats whoare crossing the street.
There’s no time to think.
Ethan drops his phone and sprints forward, shoving the stray cat out of the way with one arm, reaching for the second just as the truck slams into him.
His voice is calm even as pain shoots through his body, pushing the last kid behind a parked car.
Ethan Vance, MC
Shu.... it’s okay.
Ethan Vance, MC
You’re safe now…
The world tilts sideways. He can hear screams, distant sirens, the sound of his own breathing coming in ragged gasps.
The pavement beneath him is cold against his cheek, and he can feel his brown hair spreading out across the asphalt like dark silk.
Ethan Vance, MC
Stupid. *Mumbled*
He thinks, even as his vision starts to fade.
Ethan Vance, MC
💭 I was supposed to be bad at love, not good at being a hero. Mom’s gonna kill me for missing the recital…
Ethan Vance, MC
💭 Freya's gonna make fun of me for dying in jeans…
Ethan Vance, MC
I'm I... really gonna die...? *Whisper*
Ethan Vance, MC
💭 I'm still single.... a-and... V...virgin...
The light grows brighter, then blinding.
For a moment, there’s nothing at all – no sound, no feeling, just endless white.
Then, suddenly, he’s falling.
He lands hard on something soft, the scent of old books and lavender filling his lungs.
Ethan gasps, pushing himself up, his hands sinking into what feels like rich velvet sheets.
Dark almond eyes fly open – and he freezes.
The surrounding room is nothing like his own.
Tall windows with stained-glass panes cast rainbow patterns across the floor.
Heavy curtains in deep burgundy hang from carved wooden rods.
On the wall opposite the bed hangs a portrait – of him – dressed in elaborate dark clothing with gold trim, his black hair styled perfectly, wearing a serious expression he’s never worn in his life.
His hands shake as he looks down at himself.
Eyes shredding tears, as he'd no clues about what's happening.
He’s wearing a white shirt with lace cuffs, dark trousers that fit like they were made for him, and a heavy coat draped over the chair beside the bed.
The tan on his skin is still there, his hair still silky and brown – but everything else is wrong.
A voice echoes from the doorway, sharp and urgent.
"My lord Ethan! You’re awake at last – we were afraid the fever had taken you…"
Ethan turns, his heart hammering against his ribs, and stares at a man in a uniform he’s never seen before.
The walls around him seem to close in, the air thick with magic he can’t explain, history he doesn’t know.
But as he touches the cool surface of the portrait hanging on the wall – the face staring back at him identical to his own, save for the cold determination in those familiar dark eyes – he knows, with a certainty that makes his blood run cold, that his old life is gone.
And somehow, impossibly, he’s stepped right into the pages of something far bigger than himself.
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Hello guys 🤗
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
This is my story I wanna share, the idea of writing, finding images from Pinterest, brainstorming for names and how I want to write the flow of this story is really hard🤧
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
I don't know If this one is good, and since my vacation is starting soon, I don't want to be bored so looking for something to do while that doesn't need a lot of movement and putting money... Here I am🤦
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Nevermind, so tell me about this chapter 1... I'm still thinking when I should make another chapter as I'm still waiting for my graduation on Tuesday... But also, writing 3-4 a week is good as it's freaking a long chapter...
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Comment and also leave a like and support this small author🥺
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Thank you😘
Chapter 2: Faces That Match, Souls That Don’t
"My lord Ethan! You’re awake at last – we were afraid the fever had taken you…"
Ethan turns, his heart hammering against his ribs, and stares at a man in a uniform he’s never seen before.
The walls around him seem to close in, the air thick with magic he can’t explain, history he doesn’t know.
But as he touches the cool surface of the portrait hanging on the wall – the face staring back at him identical to his own, save for the cold determination in those familiar dark eyes – he knows, with a certainty that makes his blood run cold, that his old life is gone.
And somehow, impossibly, he’s stepped right into the pages of something far bigger than himself.
Faces That Match, Souls That Don’t
The butler’s boots make barely a sound on the polished marble floor as he moves through the room, setting a tray of warm broth and honeyed bread on the small table beside the bed.
Klian Lazarus is tall and lean, with silver-streaked dark hair pulled back neatly at his nape and eyes the color of warm oak – eyes that now watch Ethan with a careful mix of relief and concern.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Easy now, my lord.
Klian says, his voice low and steady as he helps Ethan sit up, propping extra pillows behind his back.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
You’ve been asleep for three days.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
The fever burned high – we thought… well. It doesn’t matter now.
Ethan lets himself be guided, his mind racing as he studies the man before him.
Three years older than this Ethan, he reminds himself.
Served the Vances for over a decade.
And from the way Klian’s calloused fingers adjust the blanket over his legs, tucking it in with gentle precision, it’s clear their bond runs deeper than master and servant.
Ethan Vance, MC
Thank y-you...
Ethan manages, his voice hoarse. He tests the words on his tongue, trying to match the way he imagines the original Ethan would speak – quieter, more reserved.
The Ethan he’d been back home would have already cracked a joke about sleeping through midterms, but that person is gone now.
Klian’s brow furrows slightly.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
You’re… quieter than usual. Even for you.
Ethan forces a small smile, keeping his dark almond eyes downcast as he spoons broth into his mouth.
The flavor is rich – nothing like the instant ramen he’d lived on in his old life.
Ethan Vance, MC
The fever took more out of me than I thought.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Understandable.
Klian pulls out a chair, sitting close enough to reach if Ethan needs him but far enough to maintain propriety.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Your mother sent word she’d visit tomorrow.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
She’s been at the country estate overseeing the harvest – though I suspect she’ll cut her trip short now that you’re awake.
Ethan Vance, MC
💭 Mother...?
Ethan’s real mother had been loud and warm, always hugging him too tight and leaving lipstick marks on his cheek.
He has no idea what this mother is like—only that from what he’s pieced together in the past hour, she and her side of the family see this Ethan as little more than a fragile liability, even now that his body has strengthened with puberty.
Ethan Vance, MC
Did… did anyone else ask after me?
He asked carefully, stirring the broth with his spoon.
Klian’s expression softens—the kind of look a brother might give a younger sibling he’s spent years protecting.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Lord Marcus sent a message – he said he’d stop by when he’s free from the eastern trade houses.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Lady Seraphina left flowers on your windowsill every day you were asleep. And I…
He pauses, clearing his throat slightly.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
I’ve been here. Always.
Back home, he’d had Freya – but this kind of steadfast care is new.
He thinks of the portrait on the wall, of the boy who’d lived in this body before him – fragile as a newborn, reserved to the point of isolation, easy to deceive by those who should have loved him most.
A boy who was slowly fading away, making room for someone else to take his place.
Ethan Vance, MC
I need to know–
The latter says suddenly, looking up to meet Klian’s eyes.
Ethan Vance, MC
Everything. About… about me.
Ethan Vance, MC
About this family. I feel like I’ve forgotten so much.
For a moment, Klian looks surprised.
Then he nods slowly, as if this too makes sense after a fever that nearly took him.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Of course. Let’s start with what you’d want to know first – the Vance holdings, the family alliances… or perhaps the people you need to be wary of.
As Klian begins to speak, his voice weaving together stories of trade routes and political rivalries, of siblings who care and relatives who scheme, Ethan listens with every fiber of his being.
He commits names to memory, maps out relationships in his head, notes the way Klian’s jaw tightens when he mentions Ethan’s maternal uncle.
This body may have been weak once, may have been easy to fool – but Ethan is not that boy.
He’s survived death once already, and he’ll do whatever it takes to survive here.
He will learn to walk in these shoes, to speak with this voice, to wear this face as if it were his own. Because the original Ethan Vance is gone – slowly dying in whatever space separates their worlds – and someone has to take his place.
Someone has to protect those who care for him, to outwit those who would use him, to find a way not just to live, but to thrive.
No one can know the truth.
Not Klian, not the siblings who’ve shown him kindness, not even the mother who may or may not care.
Their Ethan may share his name and face, but their souls are worlds apart – and while one fades into memory, the other is just beginning to fight for his place in this strange new life.
Klian reaches across the table, placing a warm hand over Ethan’s.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
You’re not alone in this, my lord.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Whatever you need.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
Whatever you’ve forgotten.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
I’ll help you find your way back.
Ethan covers Klian’s hand with his own, feeling the calluses from years of work, the strength that lies beneath his gentle touch.
Ethan Vance, MC
Thank you. *Smiled genuinely*
He says again, and this time the words feel a little more real.
Ethan Vance, MC
I’m glad you’re here.
As Klian continues his explanation, Ethan leans forward, drinking in every word. The road ahead will be hard, full of secrets he must keep and dangers he cannot yet imagine.
But for the first time since he woke in this strange room, he feels something he hasn’t felt since the accident – hope.
But he’s not going to let this second chance go to waste.
Chapter 3.1: The Man in the Shadowed Corner
The Man in the Shadowed Corner
Three days have passed since Ethan woke in this world, and he’s spent every moment absorbing everything Klian tells him.
Memorizing family trees, studying trade routes, committing the faces of friends and foes to memory.
But the name "Lucien Valerius" comes up more than any other, spoken in hushed tones or bitter sneers depending on who’s talking.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
He’ll be at the royal ball tonight.
Klian says, carefully adjusting the cravat around Ethan’s neck.
The dark velvet coat they’ve chosen makes Ethan feel like he’s wearing armor – appropriate, since he’s heading straight into the lion’s den.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
The Valerius family never misses the autumn gala. It’s where alliances are forged… and broken.
He stares at his reflection in the full-length mirror.
The face looking back is his own, but the man wearing it is someone else entirely; poised, reserved, every movement practiced.
He’s spent hours with Klian, learning how the original Ethan walked, how he spoke, how he held himself in public.
Ethan Vance, MC
I need to see him...
Ethan Vance, MC
To understand who I’m dealing with.
The Butler's hands still for a moment.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
My lord, I’d advise caution. Lucien Valerius isn’t someone to be taken lightly—
Klian Lazarus, Butler
T-they say he planned the carriage crash that… that took you before.
Ethan Vance, MC
*Jaw tighten*
He knows what the rumors say.
But something in the way the latter says it – the slight hesitation, the shadow of doubt in his eyes – makes him wonder if even the people closest to him aren’t sure of the truth.
The royal palace is a maze of marble and gold, music drifting through every hallway like honey.
Ethan moves through the crowd with Klian at his side, nodding politely to nobles he doesn’t recognize, forcing himself to smile at people who may or may not want him dead.
Lucien Valerius stands in a shadowed corner near the garden doors, his black hair catching the light like spun obsidian, storm-gray eyes fixed on the dance floor below.
Even from across the room, Ethan can feel the weight of his presence – he moves with a grace that’s almost intimidating, every gesture deliberate and controlled.
He’s talking to a group of nobles, but his attention seems far away, his expression unreadable.
His heart hammers against his ribs.
The man he’s supposed to kill to get home.
But as he watches Lucien’s hand tighten around his wine glass, the same hand that’s said to have signed his death warrant.
Ethan feels not anger, but a strange pull of curiosity.
Ethan Vance, MC
I’m going to get some air.
He said to Klian, slipping away before the butler can protest.
He makes his way through the crowd, his steps steady despite the knot in his stomach.
As he reaches the corner, Lucien looks up—and their eyes meet.
For a long moment, neither of them moves.
Lucien’s gray eyes widen slightly, then narrow, as if he’s seeing something he can’t quite believe.
The music around them fades to a hum, the crowd disappearing into background noise.
Lucien Valerius, ML
You’re supposed to be dead.
Lucien says, his voice low and rough.
He steps closer, and Ethan can smell the faint scent of pine and ink on his coat.
Lucien Valerius, ML
I carried you from the wreckage myself. I held your hand while you… while you took your last breath.
The original Ethan’s memories don’t live in his mind, but At this moment, he feels a strange echo of pain—not his own, but someone else’s.
Ethan Vance, MC
I’m alive.
Lucien reaches out as if to touch his face, then pulls his hand back sharply.
Lucien Valerius, ML
No. The boy I knew was… fragile. Quiet.
Lucien Valerius, ML
He’d never look at me like you are now—like you’re trying to see right through me.
Ethan Vance, MC
I’ve changed–
He says, and it’s the truest thing he’s said since he woke up here.
Ethan Vance, MC
The fever… it changed me.
Lucien studies him for a long moment, his eyes moving over Ethan’s face as if memorizing every line.
Then he steps back, his expression closing off again.
Lucien Valerius, ML
The Valerius family extends our condolences for your… ordeal.
Lucien Valerius, ML
Though I’m sure you know we had no part in what happened.
The words are formal, but there’s a note of urgency in his voice–almost as if he’s trying to tell Ethan something without saying it outright.
Before Ethan can respond, a woman’s voice cuts through the tension.
Lady Guinevieve Dià
Lucien!
Lady Guinevieve Dià
There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.
A young noblewoman with bright red hair links her arm through Lucien’s, shooting Ethan a cold look.
Lady Guinevieve Dià
Lord Vance. We didn’t expect to see you here.
Lady Guinevieve Dià
After… well. After everything.
Ethan Vance, MC
I’m feeling much better, thank you.
Ethan Vance, MC
💭 Who is she? Is she related to Lucien? What's her relationship with him?
Lucien Valerius, ML
Lady Genevieve, if you’ll excuse us. Lord Vance and I were just having a private conversation.
The woman huffs but pulls her arm away, walking off with a swish of her skirts.
Lucien turns back to Ethan, his voice dropping even lower.
Lucien Valerius, ML
Be careful, Ethan.
He says, the use of his first name sending a jolt through Ethan’s body.
Lucien Valerius, ML
Not everyone here wants you alive. And not everything you’ve been told about what happened is true.
He gives Ethan one last look. Part warning, part something else Ethan can’t quite place, then disappears into the crowd.
Ethan stands there for a long moment, watching Lucien’s retreating back.
Klian appears at his side, his face worried.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
My lord? Are you alright?
Ethan looks at him, then back at where Lucien stood.
The pieces are starting to shift in his mind—the rumors, the pain in Lucien’s eyes, the warning he just gave.
His original plan; Hundred Ways to Kill the Enemy–suddenly feels incomplete.
Ethan Vance, MC
I need to know more.
Ethan says, his voice firm.
Ethan Vance, MC
Everything you know about what happened the night of the carriage crash.
Ethan Vance, MC
Everything you know about Lucien Valerius.
Ethan Vance, MC
💭 I need to know now or never. Who's those people who wants to see me—the real Ethan Vance died.
Ethan Vance, MC
💭 They'll pay.
Klian hesitates, then nods.
Klian Lazarus, Butler
As you wish, my lord. But you must understand—some truths are harder to bear than lies.
As they make their way back through the palace, Ethan’s mind is racing.
He came here to size up his enemy but standing in that shadowed corner, looking into Lucien’s storm-gray eyes, he realized something that makes his mission infinitely more complicated.
The man he’s supposed to kill might be the only one who can help him survive.
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Hola, mi amor~
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
It's been awhile since I post an update chapter for my first story. No reason at all, but I'd graduated from Senior high and in few months I'll become a freshman👏
Authorie/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
I'll be going now, this chapter will have 3.2 story from the pov of Lucien.... So bye-bye😘
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