The rain drizzled softly against the café windows in London, blurring the orange glow of the streetlights outside. Luca sat in the corner, hunched over his laptop with an untouched slice of cake and a half-empty coffee cup in front of him. The warm hum of chatter and clinking cups filled the air, but he barely noticed.

"You've got to be kidding me," Luca muttered, scrolling through the latest chapter of The Luminary Chronicles. The screen glowed faintly in the dimly lit café as he tapped the arrow key, rereading the last few paragraphs.

Edric. The character's name was Edric.

Luca had read the original story before, so he knew Edric wasn't important—just a throwaway character who died early in Chapter 3. But the recent updates had changed that. The author had added a prequel arc, fleshing out Edric's backstory and struggles at the academy.

At first, Luca thought it was a nice addition. He liked seeing minor characters get more depth. But the more he read, the more it frustrated him.

"They're making me care about this guy just so they can kill him off again," he grumbled, stabbing his fork into the cake without actually eating it. "Why even bother? He's got no real connections to the plot, and his death is so pointless."

Edric was ordinary. No tragic lineage, no powerful talent, no great destiny. He was just another student trying to get by in a dangerous world. And maybe that was what bothered Luca the most.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Could've done so much more with him," he muttered under his breath. "At least let the guy survive."

Luca shut the laptop with a sigh, pushing it to the side. The glow of the screen lingered in his vision for a moment before fading.

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Rain pattered harder against the window as Luca gazed out at the dark street beyond. He didn't really want to go home. His flat was small, cold, and smelled faintly of mildew no matter how many candles he burned. His part-time job at the bookstore paid just enough for rent and coffee, leaving little for anything else.

It wasn't a bad life, but it wasn't a great one either.

The shrill ring of his phone jolted him out of his thoughts. He fumbled for it, nearly knocking over his coffee. The screen flashed: Mum Calling.

Luca sighed before answering. "Yeah, Mum?"

"Luca, it's six in the evening. Have you eaten anything proper yet?"

"I'm literally eating right now," he lied, glancing at the untouched cake.

"Cake doesn't count," she said sharply, her voice laced with exasperation. "You can't keep living on sugar and coffee. It's not good for you."

"I'm fine, Mum. Really."

"Well, maybe if you spent less time on those silly stories and more time—"

"I've got to go," Luca cut her off quickly. "Talk later, yeah?"

"Luca—"

He ended the call before she could finish. He stared at his phone for a moment, guilt flickering through him, before shoving it into his pocket.

It wasn't that he didn't love his mum. He just hated those conversations—the ones where she pointed out everything he wasn't doing with his life.

Luca slung his bag over his shoulder and left the café, stepping out into the cold drizzle.

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The narrow cobblestone street was empty except for the occasional car rumbling past. The rain soaked his hoodie within seconds, but Luca didn't care. He pulled the hood tighter around his face and walked faster.

His mind kept circling back to Edric.

Why did the author bother fleshing him out if he was just going to die anyway? It felt cruel. Edric wasn't special, but maybe that's why Luca had grown attached to him. He was just… normal.

"Too normal to survive," Luca muttered, his breath fogging in the chilly air.

A flicker of light caught his eye. He stopped, frowning as the streetlight above him buzzed and dimmed.

Another flicker. Then another.

The entire row of lights blinked out, plunging the street into darkness.

"What the—?"

Before he could finish the thought, a bright flash engulfed him. The world tilted, and a strange pulling sensation yanked at his chest.

Luca tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy, his vision blurring into a swirl of color and light.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

Luca opened his eyes to sunlight streaming through a stained-glass window.

He was lying in a bed—an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by stone walls and rough wooden furniture. He sat up slowly, his heart pounding.

"This… isn't real," he whispered. But the coarse texture of the sheets and the faint smell of dust said otherwise.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Luca noticed a cracked mirror on the far wall. Slowly, he walked toward it, dread pooling in his stomach.

When he saw his reflection, he froze.

It wasn't his face.

The boy staring back at him had pale skin, messy brown hair, and plain brown eyes. His heart sank as recognition hit him like a brick.

"Edric," he whispered.

He wasn't in London anymore. He wasn't even himself anymore.

Luca was in The Luminary Chronicles.

And he was doomed.