Chapter 1
Transmigration
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< Book Signing Event of Amaranthe! >
< Pre-release of Amaranthe's new book for the first 200 arrivals! >
< 'Forbidden Love of Demon King & Prince' official merch sale! >
< Amaranthe official post-release of her first book 'I'm Sorry For Leaving'! >
"What?! Sold out already?"
Cheska stared at the store manager, her heart sinking.
"I was standing here less than a minute ago! How is everything gone already?"
The manager gave her an apologetic shrug. "I'm sorry, miss. Both I'm Sorry for Leaving and Goodbye Shell of the Demon King sold out within seconds of opening."
Cheska clenched her fists, feeling the weight of disappointment settle over her. This wasn't supposed to happen.
She knew it was all going to be popular.
After all, this was the fifth book of Amaranthe's Demon King Series, starting off with the late bloomer hit, I'm Sorry for Leaving. Followed by Encounters with the Prince, Reminiscent of the Waterfall of Light, and the fourth book, the fan favorite, See You Never, Prince.
It wasn't a classical romance.
Tragedy, because that was the main category since the first book, and all other books were just recollections of their sweet romance... This was why it was popular.
It tells a story of childhood bestfriends torn apart by fate, but neither of them wanted to let go as they tried to go against family, friends and fate itself. But somehow it was all for naught, the girl was gifted in many ways and was part of nature.
She, who was both cherished by light and dark creatures, were driven away by the people when one of the dark creatures ravaged a town just for wanting to meet her.
It was crazy!
It was crazy good!
But now she wouldn't know what happened after the demon king was defeated.
She sucked on her thumb as Cheska carried her sleeping legs out the bookstore.
Cheska felt an immense bitterness ready to swallow her whole. She had planned for this day— her chance to get the pre-release of Amaranthe's new book
Of course, planning didn't mean much when life threw curveballs.
Months of relentless overtime and chaos at work had left her drained and scrambling. Even today, she'd barely managed to drag herself out of bed after a grueling week. By the time she reached the store, she was thirty minutes too late.
Thirty minutes.
Gone. Everything was gone.
She sighed heavily, feeling the eyes of others around her. Some looked pitying, others smug, silently judging her for not being early enough. She wanted to protest, to explain how much effort it had taken just to make it here. But what was the point?
The store manager gestured toward the annex. "You can still join the book signing event. Maybe you'll catch a glimpse of the author?"
A glimpse. That was all she had left.
Cheska's legs carried her numbly toward the annex, her mind swirling with thoughts of what could have been. Her soul felt as if it had left her body, deflated by the sheer unfairness of it all.
She had been a fan of Amaranthe since the very beginning, when her first book, I'm Sorry for Leaving, had been an amateur self-published effort.
Back then, Amaranthe was a shy, unassuming woman who'd sold her books at conventions, her sharp gaze was the only thing that betrayed her determination. Cheska still remembered seeing her at Comic-Con, standing awkwardly with a stack of fifty copies, her long black hair glossy under the fluorescent lights.
Now, just two years later, Amaranthe was a phenomenon.
Her Demon King series had captured the hearts of countless readers, including Cheska.
Each book was a tapestry of tragedy and fleeting hope, chronicling a love story doomed by fate. Cheska had devoured every word, losing herself in the bittersweet romance.
This book signing should have been a triumphant moment— a reward for her loyalty as a fan but it was also a goodbye to the series.
Cheska wanted to be there, gazing at the long line for the book signing event.
Instead, she found herself standing by the barricades, watching others clutch their coveted signed copies with triumphant smiles.
It was the last book of the series, Amaranthe promised that. Cheska who was the first reader, should've been one of the people to let go first...
Ahhhhhhhh! So bitter!
She sighed and leaned against the cold metal, resigning herself to simply seeing Amaranthe from afar. It's fine, she told herself. At least I'll get my promotion after working so hard.
Cheska filled her head with good thoughts instead.
"Miss Cheska!"
The familiar voice jolted her from her thoughts.
Cheska's eyes widened as she looked up to see Amaranthe waving at her from the signing table.
"Ah, Author Amaranthe..." Cheska stammered, her face heating up as the beautiful woman approached.
Amaranthe handed her a signed copy of her last book, Goodbye Shell of the Demon King, her green eyes soft with recognition. "I was hoping you'd make it," she said warmly. "You were my first reader when I self-published. I couldn't forget you."
Cheska stared at the book in her hands, her emotions warring between disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. "This is... I can't possibly... No, thank you. You can't take it back, okay?"
Amaranthe laughed, a rich sound that sent a ripple of warmth through Cheska. "I could never thank you enough. You read my book and fought tooth and nail with your company to sign me after all. I'm grateful."
Cheska looked at her shyly. "You said that to me once before, you know. At Comic-Con. I still remember."
Amaranthe's expression softened further. "And I meant it. Meeting you back then gave me the courage to keep going."
Cheska blinked rapidly, feeling tears prick at her eyes. She had come here expecting disappointment, but this moment made all her struggles feel worthwhile.
Hearing these things on her lowest days made it extra special.
"Thank you, Miss Amaranthe," she whispered.
"How about dinner? Do you have plans?" Amaranthe tilted her head with the shy smile Cheska had seen before. "We seem alike, Miss Cheska, and I wanted to talk more with you. I hope we can be friends."
Cheska took the offer.
The author's presence was warm and easy, her laughter lightening Cheska's mood with every passing moment. Before she realized it, they were seated at a small ramen stall in the annex. Cheska looked around, bemused. "I didn't think you'd be a ramen person."
Amaranthe chuckled. "It's my favorite. Ever since... well, since I moved here I fell in love with it."
The editor smiled tucking her short brown hair to the side to eat, relaxing in the moment.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from Amaranthe's books to her new venture as a Vtuber.
"It suits you," Cheska said. "Your streams feel so natural."
"I'm glad! It's fun to interact with readers in real time. It lets me share parts of the story that wouldn't fit in the books."
"Like side stories?"
"Sort of," Amaranthe said, shaking her head. "But they're more like... fragments. They wouldn't feel right as separate books."
Cheska nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. Sometimes the essence of a story can't be fully captured in just chapters."
Amaranthe smiled. "Exactly. That's why I love writers who can capture the impossible. Dostoevsky, for instance. Have you read Notes from the Underground?"
Cheska chuckled. "You're into the classics, huh? Which character do you kin?"
"The Underground Man," Amaranthe admitted with a grin. "Though I'm not as cynical as he is, I relate to his introspection."
Cheska found herself laughing for the first time in days.
What had started as a disastrous morning had turned into one of the most unforgettable days of her life.
Cheska rubbed her eyes as she trudged through the quiet night market.
The usual buzz of vendors and customers felt oddly muted, as though the air itself was holding its breath. She glanced at the glowing neon signs of food stalls, their lights flickering faintly, like a weak heartbeat.
Amaranthe walked beside her, relaxed but unusually quiet. It wasn't like the charismatic author to let silence linger for so long.
"You okay?" Cheska asked, her voice breaking through the stillness.
Amaranthe tilted her head, her green eyes glimmering strangely under the dim streetlights. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just... thinking."
Cheska frowned but didn't press further.
The uneasy atmosphere was starting to creep under her skin. A faint wind brushed past, carrying with it an odd smell— like burnt wood and something metallic.
Both of them started talking again, but Cheska's head started throbbing out of nowhere.
It didn't hurt but just uncomfortable, as if her eardrums were thumping along. Just then, in her vision, all of the lights flickered off and turned back on.
She stopped abruptly. Something else flickered the opposite way, I saw it.
"What is it?" Amaranthe asked, turning back to her.
Cheska's eyes narrowed. "I thought I saw something... on the ground."
She pointed toward a faint shimmer a few steps ahead. It was barely visible, like heat waves rippling on a summer road.
Amaranthe followed Cheska's gaze, her expression unreadable. "Looks like a trick of the light. Maybe you're tired?"
"Maybe..." Cheska muttered, but her feet moved toward the shimmer anyway. The closer she got, the clearer it became that something was etched into the cobblestone.
A circle.
No, several overlapping circles, interwoven with symbols and lines that seemed to pulse faintly with an inner glow. It wasn't just an ordinary pattern— it looked deliberate, ancient, and unnervingly precise.
"What... is this?" Cheska murmured, her breath hitching.
Behind her, Amaranthe's footsteps paused. When Cheska glanced back, she noticed something odd about the way she was standing still, as though she were rooted in place.
"You're seeing it too, right?" Cheska asked, her voice tinged with nervous energy.
The author didn't answer.
Her gaze was fixed on the glowing symbols, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Amaranthe?" Cheska tried again, stepping closer to her.
Since the author barely moved, she looked back at the lights again.
Now that I'm looking at it, isn't it familiar?
Cheska stepped closer to examine and a flash of memory hit her, "Oh. A magic circle?"
Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled, a deep rumble that sent vibrations through Cheska's legs. The lights in the market flickered wildly, plunging the area into brief moments of darkness.
"E-everyone! D-don't panic—"
But no one else reacted, only her.
No one even noticed her screaming.
Cheska stumbled, her hands instinctively reaching for balance. She turned to Amaranthe, her heart pounding, only to find the author's face illuminated by the now-bright glow of the circle.
"Stay back," Amaranthe said quietly, her voice steady but laced with urgency. "Don't go further in."
"What's going on?!" Cheska demanded, panic rising in her chest.
Before she could say more, the glow of the circle intensified, flooding the area with a blinding white light. The symbols flared to life, swirling in an intricate dance that seemed to lift off the ground.
And then came the pull.
It was as though an invisible hand had grabbed Cheska by the arm, yanking her toward the light.
She screamed, her body weightless and unmoored, as the world around her fractured into shards of color and sound. Amaranthe took hold of her other arm but it was to no avail.
Cheska's fist clenched, her heart pounding in her ears. This wasn't how she imagined her dream of being isekai'd would be.
It was too sudden, too creepy.
The golden light grew brighter, erasing everything around them.
Cheska swore she saw faint shapes within it— figures waiting on the other side.
The pull grew even stronger.
"Oh no..."
The last thing she saw was Amaranthe's calm expression faltering as she was pulled along, the light consuming them both.