Another day, another shift. I dragged myself through the familiar motions—taking orders, refilling glasses, smiling at customers who didn't even look at me when they said "thank you." The same tired routine that had become my life for as long as I could remember. Every shift felt like a little piece of me was chipped away, leaving behind a girl who was no more than a shadow of the person I once thought I'd be.

By the time I clocked out, the weight of my exhaustion pressed down on me, and I could barely remember why I even bothered anymore. No friends to meet up with, no plans to look forward to—just me and the dingy apartment that smelled like stale takeout and broken dreams. Maybe that was harsh, but it was hard to be optimistic when every day felt the same.

I didn't even bother to shower. I just… collapsed. Into the bed, face down, still in my work uniform—stained apron and all. The world outside my window was muffled and distant, just like the life I felt I was leading. Who needed dinner when you had sleep to look forward to? So, I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion swallow me whole.

There was a time when I had dreams. I used to fantasize about something bigger than this, something more colorful than the dull grey of my reality. I'd lost count of the nights I spent reading webnovels, escaping into the lives of brave heroines who took on dangerous quests, found true love, and saved entire kingdoms. It was easy to get lost in those stories, where the characters were never as empty as I felt.

The one I'd been reading most recently was about a world that seemed straight out of a fairy tale—a kingdom on the brink of destruction, a prince with a heart torn between love and duty, a powerful sorceress destined to change everything. I always liked the idea of fate being something you could fight against. It was comforting to imagine that even if your life was a little boring, at least someone, somewhere, could make their mark on the world. But the idea that such things could happen to someone like me? That was just fantasy.

As I drifted to sleep, my mind clung to fragments of the webnovel I'd read before coming to work. The heroine, Elara, was so perfect—too perfect, really. And Renner, the male lead, he was lost. Torn between duty and love, just like every other brooding hero. They were so far removed from me, it was almost laughable to think that one day, someone like Renner might look at me the way he looked at Elara.

I let out a heavy sigh. "That's rich," I whispered to myself, before my thoughts slipped into the welcoming darkness of sleep.

I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke up, something was off.

I blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from my head. My room was… different. I rubbed my eyes, expecting to see the faded walls and mismatched furniture of my apartment. But instead, I found myself staring at high ceilings, ornate tapestries on the walls, and the unmistakable scent of fresh wood. A draft passed through an open window, and I realized the air smelled completely different—more floral, less stale.

My heart began to race. Slowly, I sat up and looked around. The bed I was lying in wasn't mine. It was large, with a canopy of white fabric draped over it, the kind of thing you might see in a royal bedroom. The sheets were soft—too soft for someone like me. And there, sitting next to the bed on an intricately carved wooden table, was a silver goblet, filled with a dark liquid I could only assume was wine.

I pinched myself. Once, twice, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. The pain was sharp, real.

Where the hell am I?

I stood up, my legs unsteady as I glanced around. This wasn't my apartment. The walls were stone, the floor covered in a plush carpet with golden embroidery. I took a few shaky steps forward, my bare feet making no sound as they landed on the cool marble.

It felt like I had stepped into the pages of a fantasy novel. One of those stories I used to escape into during the long, dull nights. The kind of world where princesses walked down grand staircases, and knights in shining armor would fight to protect the kingdom. The kind of world that had always seemed so far out of reach.

A soft chime interrupted my thoughts, and before I could process what was happening, a robotic voice spoke—quiet, calm, but eerily distant.

"Welcome, Amanda Scotch."

I froze.

"You have been chosen to participate in the restoration of this world. A great imbalance has occurred, and only you can correct it."

I stared at the air in front of me, my mouth hanging open. Did I just… hear that?