Chapter 1 — The Novel That Should Have Been Burned

Arin had read many ridiculous novels in his life.

He had read stories where a girl was secretly the lost princess of an empire. He had read stories where a man woke up inside a game and somehow became stronger than the final boss within three chapters. He had even read one where the protagonist accidentally married a dragon.

But this one was different.

This one was insulting his intelligence.

Arin sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at his phone with a deep frown.

“Four?”

He scrolled upward.

Then downward.

Then upward again.

“Four men?”

The title of the novel was The Saintess and Her Four Destined Loves.

It had appeared in his recommendations several times. The cover had caught his attention: a beautiful saintess with golden hair stood in the center of an enormous garden, surrounded by four handsome men.

The crown prince.

The grand duke.

The empire's strongest holy knight.

And a mysterious mage.

Arin had expected a normal fantasy romance.

Instead, he had discovered a story in which every man who looked at the saintess for more than five seconds immediately became fascinated with her.

He shook his head.

“This is not realistic.”

He continued reading anyway.

The saintess, Elara, had supposedly been blessed by the Goddess at birth. Her presence could calm monsters, heal wounds, purify curses, and make flowers bloom.

Fine.

Arin could accept that.

It was fantasy.

What he couldn't accept was the way everyone around her behaved.

The crown prince had met her once.

Once.

She had helped an injured bird.

The next chapter had him thinking about her constantly.

The duke had seen her treating a servant kindly.

Suddenly, he had decided she was the only woman worthy of becoming duchess.

The holy knight had witnessed her praying.

He had apparently decided that protecting her was his life's purpose.

And then there was Lucien.

Arin stopped scrolling.

Lucien Valerius.

The mysterious imperial mage.

He was supposed to be the most difficult of the four.

Cold.

Proud.

Brilliant.

Almost impossible to approach.

He trusted no one and supposedly possessed enough magical power to destroy half the capital if he ever lost control.

Yet even he eventually fell in love with Elara.

Arin stared at the screen.

“Of course.”

He leaned back against the wall.

“Four men. One woman. No one has anything better to do.”

He continued reading.

The story had recently introduced another character.

Leon Valemont.

Arin's eyes narrowed.

Leon was a young nobleman from an ancient family.

Unlike the four male leads, he hated the saintess.

And Arin immediately liked him.

Leon had noticed something everyone else ignored.

The saintess's arrival had changed the behavior of powerful people.

The crown prince had begun neglecting political duties.

The duke had broken alliances for her.

The holy knight had ignored military orders.

Even Lucien had started spending more time around her.

Leon considered the situation suspicious.

Arin nodded.

“Finally. A sensible person.”

Then he reached the chapter where Leon confronted the saintess.

The dialogue was surprisingly reasonable.

“You arrived three months ago, yet the behavior of four powerful men has completely changed. Forgive me for being suspicious.”

The saintess looked hurt.

The readers loved her.

They hated Leon.

Arin frowned.

“Why are they angry at him? He's asking a perfectly reasonable question.”

Then came the next chapter.

Leon was accused of attempting to poison the saintess.

Arin's eyes widened.

“What?”

The evidence was weak.

Suspiciously weak.

Yet the four male leads believed Elara immediately.

Leon was imprisoned.

Arin continued reading.

The story became darker.

Leon lost his title.

His family abandoned him.

He was publicly condemned.

And finally, Lucien confronted him.

The chapter described Lucien walking into the prison.

Leon looked at him and laughed bitterly.

“You believe her?”

Lucien's expression was cold.

“You should have known better than to stand against her.”

Arin's eyebrows rose.

“Seriously?”

Lucien raised his hand.

Magic gathered.

Leon died.

Arin stared at his phone.

Silence filled the room.

Then he slowly said:

“This novel is garbage.”

He threw himself backward onto the bed.

“Why would anyone write this?”

He stared at the ceiling.

“If I were Leon, I would just leave the country.”

He sat up again.

“Actually, I'd leave the continent.”

He picked up his phone.

“And if four men were fighting over one saintess, I'd stay as far away from them as possible.”

He laughed.

“Especially Lucien.”

Those were the last words Arin remembered saying.

The lights flickered.

He frowned.

“What's happening?”

His phone screen suddenly went black.

The room became strangely cold.

Arin stood.

“Hello?”

No answer.

A ringing sound filled his ears.

Then the floor disappeared.

He fell.

There was no sensation of wind.

No ground.

No darkness.

Just an endless feeling of falling through somewhere that shouldn't exist.

Arin tried to scream.

Nothing came out.

Then everything stopped.

---

Someone was crying.

“Master!”

Arin heard the voice distantly.

“Please wake up!”

His head hurt.

He tried to move.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Master Leon!”

Arin's eyes opened.

A young woman was leaning over him.

She wore a black servant's dress with silver embroidery.

Her face was wet with tears.

“Thank goodness!”

Arin stared at her.

“Who are you?”

The servant froze.

“Master?”

Arin pushed himself upright.

The room was enormous.

Dark wooden furniture.

Golden decorations.

A fireplace.

Heavy curtains.

A bed large enough for four people.

None of it belonged to him.

He looked down.

His hands weren't his.

His fingers were longer.

His skin was paler.

His nails were neatly trimmed.

He slowly turned toward the mirror.

His stomach dropped.

A handsome young man stared back.

Long black hair.

Sharp grey eyes.

A beautiful but intimidating face.

Arin knew that face.

He had seen it in the novel's illustrations.

“No.”

The servant looked confused.

“Master?”

Arin touched his face.

The reflection copied him.

“No, no, no.”

He backed away.

The servant became frightened.

“Should I call the physician?”

“Wait.”

Arin looked at her.

“What is my name?”

She stared.

“Lord Leon Valemont.”

The world seemed to stop.

Arin sat down slowly.

Leon Valemont.

The character who hated the saintess.

The character who died.

The character he had just insulted.

He looked toward the ceiling.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The servant didn't understand.

“Master?”

Arin grabbed his hair.

“I actually said I could survive longer than him.”

He remembered the novel.

The saintess had arrived three months ago.

That meant the story had already begun.

And Leon's death was approaching.

He needed information.

“Tell me something.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Has the saintess arrived in the capital?”

The servant nodded.

“Saintess Elara arrived three months ago.”

Arin closed his eyes.

Exactly as expected.

He had no idea why this happened.

He had no idea how to return home.

But one thing was certain.

He wasn't going to die like Leon.

He would avoid the saintess.

He would avoid the four male leads.

He would avoid Lucien most of all.

He would stay inside his estate, mind his own business, and survive.

Simple.

At least, that was the plan.

Until a royal invitation arrived that afternoon.

The servant placed it on his desk.

Arin opened it.

His expression slowly changed.

It was an invitation to the palace.

The saintess was holding a grand reception.

Every important noble had been summoned.

Including Leon Valemont.

Arin stared at the invitation.

“No.”

The servant bowed.

“Master, refusing a direct royal invitation would be considered disrespectful.”

Arin closed his eyes.

Of course.

His first day in another world, and fate was already dragging him toward the woman he wanted to avoid.

He looked at the invitation again.

At the bottom was a list of honored guests.

His eyes stopped at one name.

Lucien Valerius.

Arin's stomach sank.

He remembered the scene from the novel.

The prison.

The cold expression.

The magic.

His death.

Arin folded the invitation.

“I am absolutely not dying.”

He looked at the servant.

“Prepare my clothes.”

She bowed.

“Yes, Master.”

Arin walked toward the window.

Outside, the capital stretched beneath the evening sky.

Somewhere in that city was the saintess.

Somewhere were the four men who would eventually fall in love with her.

And somewhere was Lucien.

The man who was supposed to kill him.

Arin took a slow breath.

“I'll change the story.”

He didn't know it yet.

But the story had already begun changing.

And the first person to notice would be the very man Arin was most desperate to avoid.

Chapter 2 — The Man Who Was Supposed to Ignore Him

The palace was far more beautiful than Arin had imagined.

That was the first thing he thought when the carriage stopped in front of the enormous white gates.

The second thought was considerably less pleasant.

I want to go home.

He had spent the entire journey reminding himself of the most important rule.

Do not attract attention.

Do not interfere with the saintess.

Do not get involved with the four male leads.

And most importantly—

Do not get involved with Lucien.

The moment Arin stepped out of the carriage, however, he realized that avoiding attention would be difficult.

Leon Valemont was apparently much more famous than Arin had expected.

Several nobles immediately looked toward him.

Whispers followed him as he entered the palace.

“That's Lord Valemont.”

“The one who hates the saintess?”

“I heard he insulted her during the last ceremony.”

“He's arrogant.”

“His family has always been troublesome.”

Arin pretended not to hear them.

Wonderful.

He had inherited the body of a character everyone already disliked.

That would make survival much easier.

Inside the palace, the reception hall was filled with nobles.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

Musicians played near the balcony.

Servants moved between tables carrying wine and food.

Arin took a deep breath.

He needed to stay away from the center of the room.

The saintess would be there.

The four men would be there.

Therefore, the safest location was—

The corner.

Arin immediately headed toward it.

He had almost reached his destination when a voice stopped him.

“Lord Leon.”

Arin closed his eyes.

Of course.

He turned.

The speaker was Crown Prince Adrian.

The first male lead.

Tall, handsome, golden-haired, and dressed in white and gold.

According to the novel, Adrian was beloved by the people.

He was also deeply devoted to Elara.

Arin bowed.

“Your Highness.”

Adrian studied him.

“I heard you were reluctant to attend.”

“I was.”

The prince raised an eyebrow.

“You admit it?”

“Yes.”

Adrian seemed surprised.

Arin realized too late that the original Leon would have responded differently.

He quickly added:

“I simply prefer quiet gatherings.”

Adrian's expression softened slightly.

“Interesting.”

Before he could continue, another voice interrupted.

“Adrian.”

Arin looked over.

Duke Cassian had arrived.

The second male lead.

Unlike Adrian's bright appearance, Cassian was dark and intimidating.

Black hair.

Red-brown eyes.

A long black coat.

He looked like someone who could destroy a person socially without raising his voice.

Cassian glanced at Leon.

“Still causing trouble?”

Arin smiled politely.

“Not yet.”

Cassian actually laughed.

The sound surprised everyone nearby.

Arin blinked.

Did Leon ever make him laugh?

He couldn't remember.

Then the music stopped.

The room became quiet.

Everyone turned toward the entrance.

The saintess had arrived.

Elara walked into the hall wearing a simple white gown.

There was no excessive jewelry.

No crown.

No extravagant decoration.

Yet every eye immediately turned toward her.

Arin understood why the four men had fallen for her in the original story.

She really was beautiful.

But something else bothered him.

The moment Elara entered—

Arin felt something strange.

A pressure.

Almost like the air had changed.

The nobles began smiling.

Adrian's expression softened.

Cassian's eyes warmed.

Rafael, who stood near the altar, immediately straightened.

And then Arin noticed the fourth man.

Lucien.

He stood alone near one of the pillars.

Silver hair.

Black robes.

Cold expression.

Exactly as Arin remembered.

Elara smiled at him.

“Lord Lucien.”

Lucien looked at her.

For a second, Arin expected the familiar scene.

Lucien would walk toward her.

He would speak softly.

The saintess would smile.

Their relationship would begin.

Instead—

Lucien's eyes moved past Elara.

They found Arin.

Arin froze.

Why is he looking at me?

Lucien didn't look away.

Arin shifted uncomfortably.

Then he deliberately turned his head.

He wasn't going to engage.

He walked toward the refreshment table.

He picked up a glass.

He took one sip.

Someone stood beside him.

“You're avoiding me.”

Arin nearly choked.

He turned.

Lucien.

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I just wanted a drink.”

“You've been watching me.”

Arin's eyes widened.

“I wasn't.”

Lucien leaned slightly closer.

“You were.”

Arin lowered his voice.

“Why are you talking to me?”

Lucien looked genuinely confused.

“Why shouldn't I?”

“Because…”

Arin stopped.

He couldn't exactly say:

Because you're supposed to fall in love with the saintess and eventually kill me.

Lucien waited.

Arin cleared his throat.

“Because you don't usually talk to people.”

“I don't.”

“Then why me?”

Lucien stared at him.

“I don't know.”

Arin frowned.

That answer again.

“You don't know?”

“No.”

Lucien's eyes remained fixed on him.

“When I saw you enter, I wanted to speak with you.”

Arin's heart skipped.

No.

He stepped backward.

“You should speak with the saintess.”

Lucien's expression changed.

“Why?”

“Because she's the reason we're here.”

Lucien glanced toward Elara.

She was surrounded by nobles.

He looked back at Arin.

“I don't want to.”

Arin stared.

“That makes no sense.”

Lucien smiled faintly.

“Perhaps.”

Before Arin could answer, Elara approached.

“Lord Lucien.”

Lucien turned.

“Yes?”

“Would you accompany me for a moment?”

Arin immediately stepped away.

Finally.

This was his chance.

He walked toward the balcony.

He could breathe again.

He had barely stepped outside when someone joined him.

He turned.

Lucien.

Again.

Arin stared at him.

“You refused her invitation.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Lucien leaned against the railing.

“I wanted to come here.”

“Why?”

Lucien looked at him.

“Because you were here.”

Arin's face became hot.

He turned away.

“This is ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“You.”

Lucien smiled.

“You said that yesterday too.”

Arin looked at him.

“Do you always remember everything I say?”

“When it concerns you.”

Arin didn't know what to say.

He looked over the balcony.

The capital glittered beneath them.

After several seconds, Lucien spoke.

“You've changed.”

Arin stiffened.

“How?”

“You used to look at me with hatred.”

Arin's heart stopped.

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“Then…”

Arin hesitated.

“What do you think?”

Lucien looked thoughtful.

“I think you're less angry.”

“Maybe I'm tired.”

“Of what?”

“Everything.”

Lucien studied him.

Then he said something Arin hadn't expected.

“I prefer you this way.”

Arin looked at him.

“What?”

“You're quieter.”

“That doesn't explain anything.”

Lucien's expression softened.

“You don't look at me like you want me dead.”

Arin almost laughed.

Irony.

“You should be grateful.”

“I am.”

Silence followed.

Then the palace doors opened.

Elara stepped onto the balcony.

She looked at Lucien.

Then at Arin.

Something flashed across her face.

Fear.

Arin noticed.

Lucien noticed too.

“Elara?”

The saintess shook her head.

“Nothing.”

She looked at Arin.

“Lord Leon, may I speak with you?”

Arin immediately became cautious.

“About what?”

“Something important.”

Lucien stepped forward.

“I'll stay.”

Elara looked at him.

“No.”

Her voice was unusually firm.

Lucien frowned.

Arin noticed that Elara's hands were trembling.

She looked directly at him.

“You need to know something.”

“What?”

The saintess opened her mouth.

But before she could speak, her eyes suddenly glowed gold.

She grabbed the balcony railing.

Arin rushed forward.

“Saintess?”

Her breathing became uneven.

Then she whispered:

“Stay away from him.”

Arin froze.

“Who?”

Her golden eyes moved toward Lucien.

“Lucien.”

Lucien's expression darkened.

“What are you talking about?”

Elara looked terrified.

Then the golden light vanished.

She collapsed.

Lucien caught her before she hit the floor.

Arin stared.

Something was terribly wrong.

The saintess had just warned him to stay away from Lucien.

Yet Lucien was the one holding her.

And for the first time, Arin noticed something even stranger.

Lucien wasn't looking at Elara.

He was looking at him.

Even while holding the unconscious saintess in his arms, his eyes remained fixed on Leon.

Arin felt a chill.

The story wasn't merely changing.

Something was actively fighting against the original plot.

And Arin suddenly wondered whether Lucien's growing interest in him was really a coincidence.

Or whether—

for the first time—

the most difficult man in the story was beginning to choose someone other than the saintess.

Chapter 3 — The Saintess Who Was Afraid

The palace physicians arrived within minutes.

Elara was carried into a private chamber while the nobles outside were ordered to remain silent about what had happened.

Arin stood in the corridor, staring at the closed doors.

He still couldn't understand what he had witnessed.

The saintess had looked terrified.

Not of Lucien.

Of something connected to him.

And then she had told Arin to stay away from him.

Arin rubbed his forehead.

“This story is getting worse.”

A voice came from beside him.

“You shouldn't joke about this.”

Arin turned.

Lucien stood against the wall.

His expression was unusually serious.

“I'm not joking.”

“You called the situation ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous.”

Lucien sighed.

“You really have changed.”

Arin looked at him.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because the old Leon would have accused the saintess of pretending.”

Arin froze.

That was true.

The original Leon had never trusted Elara.

He would have immediately assumed she was manipulating everyone.

But Arin wasn't Leon.

He had seen the fear in her eyes.

It had looked genuine.

“She wasn't pretending,” Arin said.

Lucien's eyes narrowed.

“You believe her?”

“I believe she was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“I don't know.”

Lucien looked toward the closed doors.

“I don't think she knows either.”

Before Arin could ask what he meant, the physician stepped outside.

“Her Highness is stable.”

Arin corrected him automatically.

“Saintess.”

The physician bowed.

“My apologies. The saintess is stable.”

Lucien immediately asked:

“Why did she collapse?”

“We don't know.”

“Her magic?”

“No abnormality.”

“Her heartbeat?”

“Normal.”

Lucien's expression became colder.

“That makes no sense.”

The physician swallowed.

“I agree.”

Arin stared at the physician.

“Can I see her?”

Lucien looked at him.

The physician hesitated.

“She specifically asked for Lord Leon.”

Arin's heart sank.

Of course she did.

He entered the room.

Elara was lying on the bed.

Her golden hair spread across the pillow.

She looked much more fragile without the crowd around her.

When she saw Arin, she smiled weakly.

“You came.”

“You asked for me.”

“I did.”

Arin pulled a chair beside the bed.

“What happened?”

Elara looked toward the door.

“Is Lord Lucien outside?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him to leave.”

Arin stared.

“Why?”

“Because I need to speak to you alone.”

Arin stood.

He opened the door.

“Lucien.”

Lucien looked at him.

“She wants you to leave.”

Lucien's eyes darkened.

“No.”

Arin blinked.

“She asked.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you refusing?”

“Because I don't trust what happened to her.”

Arin stared.

Lucien stepped closer.

“I don't believe she has complete control over herself.”

Arin's expression changed.

“What do you mean?”

Lucien lowered his voice.

“When her eyes turned gold, her magical signature changed.”

“You noticed?”

“I always notice magic.”

“And?”

“She wasn't casting a spell.”

Lucien glanced toward Elara.

“Something was using her.”

Arin felt a chill.

He remembered the novel.

Elara had always been described as pure.

Divinely blessed.

Loved by the Goddess.

But what if the story had been wrong?

What if the saintess wasn't controlling everything?

What if something else was controlling her?

Arin turned back toward the bed.

“Lucien.”

“Yes?”

“Stay nearby.”

Lucien's expression softened.

“I will.”

He stepped away from the room.

Elara watched him leave.

Only after the door closed did she speak.

“You believe him.”

“Yes.”

“Then you believe me too?”

“I don't know.”

Elara smiled sadly.

“That is fair.”

Arin leaned forward.

“Tell me what you know.”

She looked at her hands.

“When I first arrived in the capital, everything was normal.”

“Then what happened?”

“I began having dreams.”

“What kind?”

“Four men standing around me.”

Arin's eyes narrowed.

“The four male leads?”

Elara nodded.

“They were always there.”

“What did they do?”

“They loved me.”

Arin sighed.

“That's the entire novel.”

Elara looked confused.

“Novel?”

“Nothing.”

She continued.

“At first I thought it was divine prophecy.”

“And now?”

“Now I think it's a prison.”

Arin stared at her.

Elara's voice trembled.

“Whenever one of them gets too far from me, I feel pain.”

Arin's expression changed.

“What kind of pain?”

“Like something is tearing my heart apart.”

He remembered the original story.

The four men always returned to her.

The novel had described it as devotion.

Perhaps it wasn't devotion.

Perhaps it was compulsion.

“What happens if they refuse?”

Elara's eyes filled with tears.

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“No one has tried.”

Arin looked toward the door.

Lucien had.

“He has.”

Elara nodded.

“And that is why I'm afraid.”

“Afraid of him?”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“Afraid for him.”

Arin became silent.

“Why?”

“Because he is resisting.”

“Resisting what?”

“The thing inside me.”

Arin's blood ran cold.

“The thing inside you?”

Elara nodded.

“I don't know what it is.”

She looked at him.

“But it hates Lucien.”

Arin slowly leaned back.

That explained everything.

Lucien's behavior wasn't random.

Something was trying to force him toward Elara.

And something inside Elara was fighting him.

But there was another question.

Why was Lucien drawn toward Leon?

Elara seemed to understand his thoughts.

“You are different too.”

Arin frowned.

“How?”

“The moment you entered the palace tonight, the pressure around me weakened.”

Arin stared.

“What?”

“You make it easier for the four men to resist.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

Elara reached for his hand.

The moment she touched him, a burst of light flashed between them.

Both gasped.

Arin saw something.

A vision.

A black-haired man standing in darkness.

A golden thread connected him to Elara.

Another thread stretched toward Leon.

But unlike the golden thread—

Leon had a silver one.

And it was wrapped around Lucien's wrist.

The vision disappeared.

Arin pulled his hand back.

“What was that?”

Elara looked terrified.

“You saw it too.”

“What was it?”

“The threads of fate.”

Arin's heart pounded.

“There were two.”

Elara nodded.

“One was mine.”

“And the other?”

She looked at him.

“Yours.”

Arin couldn't speak.

Elara whispered:

“That is why the story is changing.”

Outside the room, Lucien stood alone.

His eyes were closed.

He could hear their voices through the door.

Normally, the palace walls would have blocked ordinary sound.

But Lucien was a mage.

He heard everything.

The moment Elara touched Leon, Lucien felt something inside his chest shift.

A strange warmth.

Then pain.

His hand tightened.

He looked down.

For the briefest moment, a silver mark appeared around his wrist.

Lucien stared at it.

He had never seen it before.

The mark disappeared.

But he knew what it meant.

A magical bond.

Not with the saintess.

With Leon.

Lucien slowly looked toward the door.

“What are you?”

Inside the room, Arin was asking the same question about himself.

Neither of them knew that their meeting had created something the original story had never accounted for.

A second fate.

And somewhere deep within the palace, an ancient magical force awakened.

It had been sleeping for centuries.

Waiting.

Watching.

And now it had finally found the person it had been searching for.

Leon Valemont.