Asher's gaze remained fixed at the center as he sat still, almost rigid, where an elevated platform dominated the hall.
It was framed by flowing banners, soft spotlights, and a massive screen that displayed looping celebratory sigils in slow, elegant patterns.
And yet, none of that truly held his attention.
It was the young woman standing there.
She was dressed in an exquisite blue gown, the fabric deep and rich like a calm midnight sea, laced with intricate silver designs that caught the light whenever she moved.
Her ivory skin seemed untouched by blemish beneath the glow of the chandeliers, smooth and unreal, while obsidian hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, contrasting sharply against the pale curve of her neck.
Every movement she made was composed, effortless—someone born into places like this, into crowds that watched and listened.
The host of today's event.
Her lips moved as she spoke, voice likely warm, practiced—perhaps offering her gratitude, perhaps welcoming the guests.
Asher thought as much, distantly.
He couldn't hear her at all.
The words dissolved before they could reach him, drowned beneath the steady thrum in his ears and the weight pressing against his chest.
In that moment, the crowd, the lights, even the music faded into something vague and distant.
Only she remained in his vision.
Then, for a fleeting moment, her gaze drifted across the sea of faces and met his.
Platinum locked with obsidian.
It lasted no longer than a heartbeat, yet in that instant, she smiled warmly.
Not the polished smile meant for guests or cameras, but a gentle one, soft around the edges, the kind that reached someone quietly and stayed there.
The kind of smile that could pull a person back from the edge of despair without a single word.
It felt, impossibly, as though the distance between them had never existed at all.
His heart skipped a beat.
Happy birthday, Elora… and here goes nothing.If something went wrong, I'd leave quietly. I'd done it before. I was good at it.
The thought barely settled before he was already moving.
Rising from his seat, bouquet clenched tightly in his grasp, Asher stepped forward, his gaze fixed on her as if the world around him had begun to blur.
Elora seemed to notice—no, anticipate—his approach.
Then, for reasons he would never fully understand, time itself faltered.
The world dimmed, sound drained away, and everything sank into a suffocating darkness.
Conversations vanished. Music ceased. The hall fell into an unnatural, ubiquitous silence.
Everything...everyone froze.
Everyone except him.
And Elora.
And a third presence.
A figure slipped past him in a sudden blur, boots striking the floor in sharp, echoing taps—the only sound that existed.
The intruder moved freely, unbothered by the fractured flow of time, while Asher stood locked in place, his body unresponsive, his breath trapped in his chest.
Elora was right there.
And yet, impossibly, just out of reach.
Then...
The darkness peeled away.
Light rushed back in.
Time stitched itself whole once more, yet...the silence remained.
It had all been planned beforehand.
Asher knew that man.
He had seen him before—on screens, in passing conversations, whispered with reverence and envy.
A scion of an influential family within the Decarra region, drenched in wealth and authority.
It did not take long for Asher to arrive at that conclusion as he stood there, helpless, watching the duo now occupying the very center of the world.
"Hey, come down from the stage! You're ruining the mood!"
Someone called out sharply.
Asher didn't react.
The voice might as well have belonged to another universe.
For all he knew, the only thing that existed was the scene unfolding ahead of him.
"What I want to say to you is on the screen," the man announced, a confident smirk tugging at his lips as his gaze settled unabashedly on Elora.
She was blushing.
A ripple passed through the crowd as countless heads turned in unison toward the massive display.
Asher followed, almost mechanically and so did Elora, and so did the version of himself that still clung to a shred of hope.
'I love you, Elora. Would you like to go on a date with me?'
The words were etched across the screen in bold, stylish lettering, radiant and impossible to ignore.
Asher's expression dimmed, the light draining from his platinum eyes as his gaze slid back to Elora.
She didn't speak... She didn't reject him either.
She simply stood there...hesitating, cheeks flushed so deeply they bordered on crimson.
That hesitation was enough...To make the little hope he had clung onto crumble.
The world seemed to drift farther away as he noticed it—a faint, uncertain nod from Elora, small and almost apologetic, yet unmistakable in its meaning.
An approval, however reluctant.
A choice, however delayed.
In that moment, everything inside him fell silent.
Somewhere inside...no, behind him another Asher spoke.
"You see it now, don't you?"
The voice was low, familiar, stripped of warmth.
He could feel him there, close enough that his breath almost brushed the back of the neck.
He stood parallel to asher, spine aligned with him, as if they were cast from the same mold and then split poorly, unevenly.
He did not need to turn around to know how he looked.
He had lived with that reflection all his life.
"I was born like this," the other Asher continued, voice steady, almost conversational. "Talentless. Measured once and discarded immediately. Not because I was weak, but because I was unnecessary."
The hall remained frozen around them.
Elora stood on the stage, framed by light, her ivory skin glowing softly beneath the chandeliers, obsidian hair cascading over her shoulders in gentle waves.
She had always looked like that—untouched, distant, someone meant to be admired from afar.
"She was kind to you," the other Asher said.
"That's why you mistook it for something more."
Asher's fingers curled tighter around the bouquet.
"I was raised as proof," the voice went on, closer now.
"A reminder of failure. The Wespera clan's great stain. Their matriarch kept me alive not out of love, but obligation. I ate after servants. I stood behind banners during ceremonies. My name was spoken only when an example was needed."
Look at him. This is what happens when bloodline produces waste.
"I didn't even have the dignity of being erased," the other Asher said softly. "I was displayed as a symbol of shame."
On the stage, Elora laughed nervously, her fingers brushing the sleeve of the man beside her. She wasn't cruel.
She never had been.
She was simply… sheltered.
Born rich, raised gentle, unaware of how deeply the world could cut someone who had nothing to fall back on.
"You liked her because she looked at you without disgust," the voice said.
"Because she smiled without knowing who you were. Because for a while, you weren't a disgrace. Just… Asher."
Asher's chest felt tight.
"I worked myself hollow," the other Asher continued, tone darkening.
"Ran errands, stole when I had to, starved when I couldn't. All to prove something no one ever planned to acknowledge. And still, when I stood in front of them, I was the clan's shame walking on two legs."
The man on the stage knelt.
The bouquet slipped slightly in Asher's grasp.
"Look at her now," the voice murmured.
"She hesitates, yes. But she won't choose you. She never could. You were never even an option."
Asher finally spoke, voice hoarse.
"So what was the difference ?"
Behind him, the other Asher leaned closer, voice low and unwavering.
"Stop asking to be chosen," he said.
"Stop begging world that already decided your worth. If they made you a symbol of shame—then burn the symbol and rewrite what it stands for."
Elara gave him another brief look, before engaging in a passionate kiss with the scion.
And somewhere deep within Asher, something answered back.
Ding!
[Detected extreme emotional collapse.]
[User meets minimum resonance condition.]
[Evaluating: Shame Compatibility…]
[Evaluation complete.]
[ Cross-cosmology System Binding
Successful.]
Welcome, Host.
You have been granted access to the Other World.
Skills, items, and attributes acquired there may be transferred to reality.
[Warning: Transfer efficiency limited.]
[Reality rejects excess power.]
Do you wish to open the first portal?