In the morning
Lixia was deep in her dungeon workshop, surrounded by gears, wires, and a half-disassembled lightning crystal. The air hummed with energy.
She didn't hear Lena enter—until the soft *click* of the door echoed behind her.
Without turning around, she said: "Back so soon? Did you miss me that much?"
Lena stepped forward carefully, holding out a single apple like an offering.
"I brought breakfast," she said. Then—curious—"How's the fridge coming along?"
Lixia turned slowly... revealing goggles perched on her forehead and soot smudged on one cheek.
She grinned. "It's not a *fridge* anymore."
Lena blinked. "...What is it now?"
"It's *Frostbite 2000™.*" She gestured dramatically to the humming machine behind her—a towering contraption with blinking crystals and frost creeping down its sides. "Auto-cool! Self-sealing door! And optional ice-cube function!"
"...You added an ice maker?" Lena squeaked.
"Of course." Lixia took the apple from Lena's hand with a wink. "And for you—**early access pass**." 🍎❄️⚡
"Now... who wants to test it with frozen strawberries?"
Lena stared, torn between awe and disbelief. A frost-coated contraption the size of a small wall loomed before her. This wasn't a fridge. It was... a work of art.
Lixia leaned against the Frostbite 2000™ with a smirk, holding the apple casually as if it were an everyday gift.
"Early access...?" Lena repeated, torn between awe and concern.
Lixia nodded, tossing the apple in her hand with a glint in her eye.
"For my 'most generous sponsor'," she added.
Lixia opened the door of the Frostbite 2000™ with a flourish—cold air swirling out like dragon's breath.
Inside, neatly stacked, were Lena's fruits from yesterday—still fresh, glistening with frost. Even the banana had that perfect icy shimmer.
Lena gasped. "It... it works!?"
Lixia grinned. "Better than expected." She plucked a frozen strawberry and popped it in her mouth. Crunch. "...Mmm. Like eating tiny stars."
Then she leaned closer, eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"You know... for *continued sponsorship*..." —she whispered—"...I could add an **auto-scoop ice cream dispenser**."
Lena's eyes widened.
"...You're going to bankrupt my family with snacks." 🍦❄️💸
few days later
The vibrant capital market was bustling—merchants hawking their wares, children darting through the narrow alleys, and carriages and horses creating a cacophony of noises.
The young boy with pink hair walked quietly past the stalls, observing each product with a sharp gaze. The elf maiden at his side kept a watchful eye on the surroundings, her cloak drawn up to hide her pointed ears.
A merchant selling colorful sweets caught the boy's attention. He approached the stand, eyeing the sweets behind the glass display case.
The merchant offered a bright smile as the boy approached. "Interested in something, young sir? We've got the sweetest treats this side of the market!"
The boy observed the sweets silently for a moment, his pastel eyes flickering between each item. His elf maid remained quiet, keeping a respectful step behind him.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small silver coin. "I'll take the moonberry lollipops," he said softly.
The merchant's eyes lit up. "Ah! Excellent choice, young sir! One of our rarest treats!"
As the boy continued exploring the market with his elf maid, he passed a shop that immediately caught his eye.
The windows were lined with various hair products—brushes, combs, oils. But amidst the display were other items—strange contraptions labeled "toaster," "refrigerator," "oven."
His curiosity piqued, the boy walked closer to peruse the wares.
The shop owner, an older woman, noticed the boy's interest and stepped forward. "Something catch your eye, young sir?" she asked kindly.
The boy glanced at her, then back at the inventions.
"These..." he said quietly, "What are they?"
The shop owner grinned. "Inventions, young sir. Revolutionary inventions. The toastiest toaster, the chilliest refrigerator, and the hottest oven you'll ever find!"
The boy's mind raced as he processed the shop owner's words.
Inventions... in this world?
It felt out of place, out of time. The RPG game's lore had always portrayed a medieval setting. Suddenly, the anachronistic contraptions felt more like a glitch in the game code than an actual feature.
He glanced at the "inventions" again, his brow furrowing with puzzlement. The more he thought about it, the more it felt... impossible.
The boy ran his fingers along the smooth metal of the toaster—cool to the touch, engraved with tiny runes that pulsed faintly. He tilted his head.
*These aren't just props.*
The craftsmanship was too precise. The energy signature... familiar.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned in, whispering under his breath:
"...This magic... it's not *normal*. It's like... a spell fused with mechanics."
Lisse shifted beside him, sensing her master's tension. "Is something wrong?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he glanced at the shop owner and asked—calmly, but carefully—
"Who made these?"
The young boy, now fully intrigued, listened intently as the shop owner explained.
"Lixia."
The name stirred something within him. Familiar recognition tinged with a hint of disbelief.
But the mention of a baron's daughter caught his attention even more. "The third daughter... of the baron from the countryside?" he repeated, a slight frown of surprise crossing his face.
The shop owner nodded. "Yes, young sir. These contraptions were created at the request of the baron's daughter. Quite the inventor, that girl."
The boy's expression remained composed, but he was silently processing the information. The baron's third daughter, from the countryside?
He glanced back at the "inventions," a mix of confusion and curiosity swirling in his pastel eyes. "They… work?" he asked carefully.
The shop owner chuckled. "Yes, young sir! Completely functional. And quite popular among the nobles, I might add."
The boy pondered this, his thoughts buzzing. He looked at the toaster again, its metallic gleam seeming almost… otherworldly.
He glanced at the shop owner, his tone nonchalant. "And… where is this young inventor now? Lixia, was it?"
The boy absorbed the information quietly.
The inventor was elusive, then. But the third baron's daughter, the "sponsor" who ordered the inventions—she knew Lixia's location.
Another piece of the puzzle.
He looked at the toaster again. Then, almost casually: "And does anyone know why the young baroness requested these… unusual contraptions?"
The boy's mind whirred, processing the response.
So. The baron's daughter had requested these "convenient items" for the future. No specific explanation, just a vague term. And the inventor was nowhere to be found.
That feeling… that itch of familiarity wouldn't disappear. Something about all of this was... uncanny.
He took a slow breath, his thoughts racing even faster. His fingers traced the runes on the toaster again, more contemplative than curious now. In his head, a plan was slowly forming.
The boy blinked, pulled from his thoughts.
The shop owner stood with folded arms, a polite but pointed smile on her face.
"Are you going to buy something, dear? Or just admire all day?"
He glanced at Lisse—she gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head: Don't get involved.
But then he looked back at the toaster... and remembered Lena Dunham's name. The baron's third daughter. No magic. Just… inventions.
A slow smile tugged at his lips.
"I'll take the toaster," he said softly. "And... perhaps a hair oil."
Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes. 🧵🔥🌀
he purchased the toaster and hair oil, tucking them into a satchel carried by Lisse.
As they walked away from the shop, his thoughts churned.
*Lena Dunham... baron's third daughter… no magic… should be irrelevant.*
In *Light in the Elements*, she wasn't a capture target. Not part of any main route. Just a background noble—meant to fade into obscurity.
Yet here she was… sparking *inventions*? Through an elusive vampire named Lixia?
*Impossible.*
No NPCs acted this independently. No side characters rewrote world logic with fridges and toasters.
His grip tightened slightly on the moonberry lollipop stick.
"...Unless," he whispered under his breath, so quietly even Lisse didn't catch it—
"**She remembers too.**"
And just like that—Paul Gonzalez, once content to live quietly in the margins—felt fate tug him forward by an invisible thread. 🌪️💫
The feeling of relief washed over Paul, and his steps lightened.
Another reincarnator…? Finally!
In the game, everyone he interacted with felt like NPCs—trapped within their game roles and plot—no knowledge of the real world. If Lena Dunham really was another reincarnation—another player, like him—
He exhaled, the smallest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.
Finally he could talk to someone on his level. A fellow player who remembered. Someone who knew.
He quietly entered his room, shutting the door behind him with a click.
His family—the cold, distant parents. His older brother, the golden child and heir. They barely spared him a glance, as always. As if he were just a piece of furniture… a background character in their own narrative. Just like an NPC…
He exhaled softly, sitting down on the edge of his bed. The silence inside his room contrasted sharply with the indifference outside.
Lisse hovered quietly beside him, her elf ears pricked with concern—but she knew better than to speak first.
Paul lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The quiet hum of the estate outside felt hollow. The indifference of his so-called family only sharpened the ache inside.
*"Jaehyun-ah…"*
He closed his eyes, just for a second. A fleeting image flashed—his sister's warm smile, her teasing voice as she pulled him into another round of *Light in the Elements.*
"We're gonna beat this game together," she'd say every time. "No matter what."
Now he was here—*in* it—and she was gone.
And yet…
A spark flickered in his chest again.
*Lena Dunham.*
Could it be…?
His eyes snapped open. Not sadness now—determination.
Maybe… maybe fate hadn't abandoned him after all.
Maybe *she* wasn't lost.
Just… waiting in a different name. A different life. A baron's daughter with no magic and strange inventions…
"Hold on," he whispered to the empty room—to memory, to hope—
"I think I found you." 💫🌀💔
Lisse watched him quietly, her kind eyes soft with understanding.
"Master," she said gently, "you've had a long day. You should rest."
Paul exhaled, the weight of memory still pressing on his chest—but now, lighter somehow.
"Yeah," he murmured, sitting up. "You're right."
He didn't argue. For once, he didn't feel the need to stay awake chasing thoughts in circles.
As he slipped under the covers, Lisse blew out the candle—darkness folding over the room like a blanket.
Outside Paul's window…
A single pink butterfly drifted past in silence…
And disappeared into the night. 🦋🌙
Paul tossed in his sleep, the dream unfolding like a scene from a forgotten memory.
White flowers. Soft music. The gentle hush of guests as he stood at the altar, heart full—yet something was *wrong.*
*She wasn't there.*
He scanned the crowd — smiling faces, relatives clinking glasses… but no sign of her.
"Jaehyun?" he called out, voice breaking slightly. "Noona? Where are you?"
No answer.
The wedding procession began anyway.
Then—a sudden screech of tires. A crash in the distance.
His eyes snapped open—
Heart pounding—back in his bed.
Darkness surrounded him. Safe. Silent.
But tears had slipped down his face without him realizing it.
Jaekyun's phone vibrated on the nightstand, screen illuminating the darkness. He fumbled in his daze, still half-lost in the dream's surreal haze.
As he pressed the phone to his ear, a sense of dread washed over him like a cold chill. Hospitals never called in the middle of the night with good news.
"...Hello?" he managed, voice rough from sleep—expecting the worst.
The call still echoed in his mind.
> *"Your sister… she was in an accident. On her way to the wedding. She didn't make it."*
Paul—no, *Jaekyun*—sprinted through the dark streets, barefoot and breathless, his heart threatening to burst.
Tears blurred his vision. The world passed like a blur of shadows and streetlights. He didn't care about rules or appearances or being a "proper count's son" anymore.
She was gone.
And he hadn't even said goodbye.
He reached the hospital doors gasping, uniform torn from running too fast—only for time to freeze when he saw her name on the list…
> **Yoo Jaehyun – Deceased**
A single sob escaped him—one quiet sound in an endless silence—as snow began to fall outside. 🌨️💔📞
The receptionist looked up as Jaekyun approached, her voice laced with weary professionalism. "Can I help you, sir?"
Jaekyun's eyes were red-rimmed. His voice came out as a whisper, rough with grief. "My sister—she was pronounced deceased. I want to see her. Please."
The receptionist's expression softened with a blend of sympathy and caution.
"Sir, I understand this must be distressing…"
Jaekyun's grip tightened on the edge of the desk. "I said—I want to see her," he repeated, each word trembling. "I'm her brother. Please."
The number felt like a cruel taunt, a symbol of finality.
Jaekyun thanked the receptionist numbly, then slowly made his way down the hall.
Room 314.
He reached the room, heart pounding, palms sweaty.
His fingers wrapped around the door handle…
Took a breath…
And stepped inside.
The sight hit him like a physical shock.
His sister—lifeless, still—laying silent and pale. He saw the outline of her body through the cloth, the curve of her arm...
The hand that was supposed to be warm, lively, alive—so cold now.
Jaekyun staggered forward, his movements slow, almost mechanical. He reached out—touching her hand like he could wake her.
"N-noona…?" he whispered, voice cracking.
"No… please…"
He fell to his knees beside the bed, clutching her hand with both of his, as if warmth alone could bring her back.
"I'm here now. I'm here," he choked out. "You were supposed to walk me down the aisle… You said you'd tease me for being nervous—"
A sob wracked through him.
"Why? Why did it have to be *you*?"
Tears dripped onto the hospital floor.
And in that silent room—grief poured out like a storm held back too long. 💔🌧️
Outside, dawn began to break—slow and indifferent—as if the world didn't care that someone had just lost their light. 🌅
A doctor stepped into the room, carrying a small box of possessions.
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"My condolences," he said gently, placing the box on the bedside table. "We did what we could. It was… an instant injury."
Jaekyun's tears kept flowing, but he nodded stiffly, trying to focus on the doctor instead of the grief tearing at his heart.
"What's in the box?" he managed to gasp out.
The doctor looked at Jaekyun kindly.
"Your sister… she had your wedding gift for you," he explained, his voice quiet.
Jaekyun paused, swallowing back another wave of fresh tears. His sister had thought of him even in her last moments… of course she had.
"Can I… can I see it?" he whispered.
The doctor gave a sympathetic nod, handing Jaekyun the box.
"Of course. She was quite excited about it..."
Jaekyun accepted the box—light, wrapped in simple white paper—with shaking hands. He hesitated for a moment, almost scared to open it. Then, taking a shaky breath… he unwrapped the present.
Jaekyun inhaled sharply, eyes wide.
The photo framed in the box…
He saw their parents' smiling faces, his own baby self looking up at Jaehyun in awe, the elder girl holding him protectively, her small hands cupping his small fists.
His tears dripped onto the frame as he carefully traced the photo with his fingers.
As if by touching it, he might somehow go back in time.
"...No…." he whispered, voice quivering. "No, this can't be…"
As if the pain wasn't bad enough—Jaekyun noticed a small envelope tucked behind the frame.
Jaekyun hesitated—then unfolded the note, heart pounding.
In Jaehyun's familiar handwriting, he read the words:
"May your life be filled with new beginnings."
Those simple words, written with love and hope… but now tinged with sadness.
Jaekyun's fingers trembled. Another wave of grief crashed into him, stealing the breath from his lungs.
He clutched the picture frame to his chest, tears falling again.
Jaekyun knelt by the hospital bed, tears streaming down his face.
He looked so small then—hunching over, clutching the photo and the note to his chest.
"N-noona..." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't… I can't do this without you..."
The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, bathing the room in harsh reality. And he was still here—alone, drowning in grief, holding onto his sister's last words like a lifeline.
Jaekyun buried his face into the sheets—finding some small comfort in the familiar scent of her perfume, still lingering.
His tears soaked the fabric, silent but constant. The world outside might have kept moving, but in that room—time had stopped.
He stayed like that, kneeling at his sister's bedside, as the minutes stretched into hours.
Paul sat up slowly, the morning light filtering through the curtains.
His face was calm—neutral—but behind those pastel eyes lingered something heavy. The dream… no, the *memory*, was still fresh.
He remembered everything now—the wedding, the call, her hand in his last photo… *"new beginnings."*
A breath escaped him. Not a sob this time. Just quiet acceptance.
"...Noona," he whispered to the empty room. "I think I found your new beginning too."
Outside his window—
Another pink butterfly fluttered by…
As if saying: *"I'm here."* 🦋💔✨
Paul quickly wiped his tears as Lisse entered, her steps soft. She paused, sensing the weight in the air.
Without a word, she walked over and placed a warm cup of herbal tea on his bedside table.
"Master," she said gently, "the world feels lighter today… doesn't it?"
Paul looked up—and for the first time in what felt like forever—
He smiled. Small. Faint. But real.
"Yeah," he murmured. "It does."
Because somewhere out there…
Lena Dunham was dancing with butterflies.
And that meant *she* hadn't been lost after all.
She'd just been reborn first. 💫🦋
The room was peaceful, the sound of a pencil scratching against paper mixing with the faint sounds of the manor estate.
Lena sketched intently, fingers moving almost too fast—transferring thoughts from her mind to the page. Ideas and designs filled the paper, the shapes and diagrams taking shape in her nimble hands.
She didn't notice the passage of time, lost in her work. The world might've been waking up outside, but inside this room—
It was just her, her sketches... and her endless imagination.
Lena's sketches covered the pages, each more detailed than the last.
Microwaves, electric fans, washing machines, refrigerators, hairdryers, vacuum cleaners…
All things normal people in her old life might take for granted, but that didn't exist here.
Yet.
She set the pencil down, eyes gleaming at her work. This was just the start... there were so many more to create.
Just then, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
Lena looked up, blinking a little at the unexpected distraction. "Come in," she called out, clearing her throat.
The door opened, and a servant entered—bowing respectfully. "Miss Dunham," she said, her voice soft. "Your father wishes to see you in the living room. Immediately."
Lena quietly made her way through the manor's elegant halls, every step ringing against the marble floors.
Her mind was still racing with inventions, but her heart pounded just a little faster in anticipation. It was rare for her father to ask for her so abruptly.
She reached the heavy wooden door of his office and knocked. "Father? It's me."
The door remained closed a moment before his voice came through.
"Come in, Lena. I have something important to discuss with you."
Lena swallowed a little, nervousness now mixing with curiosity. She pushed open the door and stepped into the office.
Her father was sitting behind his desk, papers spread in organized stacks. His expression was serious.
"Close the door," he said, gesturing for her to sit.
Lena crossed one leg over the other, trying to appear calm. Inside, her mind was racing.
"Sales are good," James continued, eyes on the financial reports in front of him. "Requests for our products are increasing... and our reputation in the region is strong. However…"
Lena tensed slightly. However…
Her father continued, his voice low, almost business-like.
"There's also been… a marriage proposal."
"Father, burn those marriage letters."
Lena's voice was flat. Calm. Utterly unimpressed—like she was dismissing the weather.
James froze mid-sentence. His eyes flicked up to hers.
A beat of silence.
Then—*relief*.
So subtle no one but Lixia might have caught it—but Lena saw the way his shoulders dropped, just a fraction. The way his stern expression *almost* cracked into a smile.
"Ah," he said, clearing his throat with sudden vigor. "Yes. Of course."
He stood in one swift motion, grabbed the entire stack of noble-betrothal proposals—the ones from earls' sons, dukes' heirs, even that *overly enthusiastic alchemist from the west*—and marched them straight to the fireplace.
With precise nobility and barely contained joy:
**He threw them all in.** 📜🔥
The flames roared to life as velvet ribbons curled and turned to ash.
Lena watched, smirking slightly as one particularly fancy wax seal popped like popcorn.
"Good riddance," she muttered under her breath—and for once?
Her father didn't scold her at all.
In fact… he looked kind of proud? 💼✨💔🔥
James cleared his throat again, returning to his seat.
He resumed his 'serious father' expression, but the air was lighter now—free of pesky marriage proposals.
"In other matters," he said, shuffling the papers on his desk. "I've been thinking about our... image, as a noble family."
Lena raised an eyebrow, silently indicating for him to continue
"The emperor's office sent a notice," James said, his tone careful. "With your inventions—your *Lixia*-powered creations—and the profits they're generating… our family's influence is growing."
He paused, fingers tapping the edge of the desk.
"...The court has discussed it. There's a chance—the barony may be elevated to a countship."
Lena blinked.
Then sat back in her chair slowly.
A *count*? Her father?
Her lips twitched into a quiet smirk.
"So what you're saying is… I turned this family into nobility 2.0 with *home appliances*?"
James sighed—but he couldn't hide it this time.
He was smiling too. 🏰⚡✨
James leaned forward, a rare warmth in his voice.
"And there's more." He cleared his throat. "Your mother's hair ointment—the one she made from old herbal formulas—it sold out at the capital market *yesterday.* In fact… it's already being restocked."
Lena blinked.
Then her face lit up.
"Mother's *ointment*? Really?" She grinned. "Of course it did! That stuff makes your hair look like you bathe in moonlight!"
She paused—suddenly scheming. "Wait… we should bottle it! Add labels! Maybe even pair it with a comb set—*Lena & Amelia Dunham: Hair of Nobility™.*"
James groaned—but he was fighting a proud smile.
"Yes, yes… just no putting our faces on jars," he muttered.
Too late—he could already see the future:
A dynasty rising—not by swords or magic...
But by toasters and haircare. 💅🧴✨