Ayla.

  She was born the daughter of two kindhearted parents who ran a humble ramen stall tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. The warmth of steam, the scent of broth, the laughter that filled the space… it was a simple, happy life.

  Until it wasn’t.

  When Ayla was only five, her parents died in a car accident. In that single, merciless moment, her world was torn apart.

  But fate, though cruel, left her one thread of kindness.

  The stall’s only employee, a gentle, soft-spoken woman who lived next door, took Ayla in. Though not related by blood, the woman raised her with a quiet, unwavering love, treating her not as a burden, but as her own daughter.

  For a while, things were okay.

  When Ayla turned twelve, she realized that the ramen stall’s modest income wouldn’t be enough to support her future.

  Determined to lighten the burden, she began working part-time at a nearby convenience store.

  Then, at fourteen, the woman who had raised her began to fall ill. Her body, worn down by age and years of work, couldn’t keep up anymore. Medical bills mounted, and Ayla, still a child, was left with an impossible choice.

  She sold the ramen stall.

  The last piece of her parents' legacy was gone.

  She gave up everything, just to buy one more year for the woman who had saved her.

  But kindness doesn’t always earn mercy.

  The woman passed away not long after.

  And Ayla was alone again.

  The second grief hit harder and deeper. Like the world was hollowed out a second time, only this time, there was no one left to hold her.

  Her body moved, but her mind drifted. Days bled into each other in gray monotony. The world was too sharp, too cold, too real.

  She needed to escape that sharp-edged world, if only for a moment, to somewhere softer, somewhere that didn’t hurt.

  And one day, she saw it.

  A promotional video. A game.

  Dream Land Online.

  It looked like magic. A post-apocalyptic fantasy world where players could fight, explore, build, survive, and become anything.

  Ayla used the last of her savings to buy a game capsule and pre-register for the beta test.

  An hour later, she received the invitation.

  She cried.

  For the first time in months, she smiled again.

  Inside the game, she was Frostina, a solo player who carved her own path, outsmarted world events, and became one of the top-ranked names on the server.

  She was free.

  In that broken digital world, she finally felt alive.

  And so she made a wish.

  If there was such a thing as reincarnation…

  If she was ever given another life…

  She wanted to be reborn inside that game.

  Inside Dream Land Online.

  And then… just a few months into her university life, on a silent night in November…

  Ayla died in her own room…

  Alone, silent, and forgotten in a world that had moved on without her.

  She didn’t even make it to her eighteenth birthday next month.

  But it seemed someone heard her plea.

  Ayla got her wish.

  She woke up not in heaven, nor in hell, but in the world she had longed for.

  Oneiria.

  The world of Dream Land Online.

  Though not entirely in her own body.

  She lived now as a second soul like a ghost, residing inside the body of a noble girl named Cryssa Stelluna.

  And she didn’t mind.

  Watching Cryssa grow, training with her sword, learning discipline, pushing past fear, felt like watching a flower bloom in winter. Even if Ayla couldn’t take full control, she found pride in guiding her.

  It felt like she had left something meaningful behind.

  But when the real catastrophe began, Cryssa held the frontlines for only an hour before her body gave out.

  And Ayla, tied to that same body, collapsed with her.

  They shared everything, the strength, pain, and exhaustion.

  And so, they fell together.

  ……

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  She wasn’t sure how long she drifted.

  Minutes? Hours? Days?

  Time lost meaning.

  Then… her eyes opened.

  But it wasn’t the battlefield she saw.

  Instead, she was floating through a vast, ethereal space. Vibrant colors shifted and danced around her. A world made of light, sound, and memory.

  Ayla blinked in disbelief.

  “This is… the opening video?”

  It was…

  The introductory sequence of Dream Land Online.

  She’d seen it before, projected on her game capsule’s internal screen back in her previous life.

  But this wasn’t a screen.

  She was inside it.

  She found herself able to move freely, floating, flying, shifting her view with ease, as though she were part of the very fabric of the video.

  A translucent spirit, drifting through the living cinematic.

  The realm of the opening video had become her world, and somehow… it felt more real than anything.

  So she watched.

  Ayla, the ghost, floating through the dream she once asked to live in.

  ……

  The dream realm unfolded like a storybook, its pages gilded in light and memory.

  At first, the world was peaceful.

  Humans lived as they always had in fantasy tales bustling villages under the sun, smiths hammering steel in open forges, market stalls crowded with laughter and life. Nobles dueled in courtyards with spell and sword, their rivalries burning with pride and ambition. Commoners tended gardens. Children raced through meadows.

  The world breathed peace.

  But then, the realm shifted…

  The forest came alive.

  A nation of beastkin bloomed in the canopy and roots.

  A foxkin mother sat by a riverside, gently combing her daughter’s fluffy tail while humming an old lullaby.

  Nearby, catkin children sprinted barefoot across wooden bridges in a wild race, tails twitching with glee.

  Wolfkin patrolled the edges of their homeland, their movements fluid, precise, born of instinct and strength.

  Further still, elves and dark elves shared a twilight village under a moonlit bough, bowmakers and herbalists, singers and mages, living side by side with solemn grace.

  Then the forest faded. The stone replaced wood, and flame replaced the leaf.

  Now came the underground realm.

  A dwarven stronghold, carved deep into the earth, glowed with orange firelight and the ringing of hammers. They forged axes and breastplates, enchantments etched into metal like sacred prayers. Their laughter echoed through tunnels lined with runes, proud and unbroken.

  Then came the depths.

  An underwater city of glass and coral revealed itself in a swirl of bubbles and bioluminescence. Atlanteans, with scaled legs like mermaids, harvested pearls from glowing clams. Children chased colorful fish. Their songs vibrated through the currents like lullabies carried on tides.

  Another shift.

  The stars disappeared, and a moonless black swallowed the sky.

  An evernight city shimmered into view, an empire of shadows and spires.

  In grand arenas, demonkin clashed for honor and pride. Vampires hurled blood-inked spells. Fallen angels unfurled scorched wings and conjured divine chaos. Towering juggernauts and dreadknights crushed bone beneath spiked fists and swords, while lichs raised whole battalions of the dead to fight again.

  The world changed once more.

  Floating cities drifted above the clouds, suspended by magic and radiant light.

  Harpies soared through the skies in playful spirals, their laughter trailing behind like wind chimes. In pristine gardens, seraphim polished their four radiant wings and walked among marble halls with spears and halos, glowing with celestial calm.

  It was beautiful.

  Peaceful.

  Like a dream land.

  Ayla floated in silence, her translucent form remained still, her eyes wide with awe.

  It was everything she remembered. Everything she had once loved.

  Until…

  It shattered.

  The skies split with a scream. A darkness fell like a plague.

  Monsters came without warning, just chaos.

  Human knights charged into the fray, shouting oaths with shining blades, but fell, screaming, one after another. Mages hurled spells, lighting up the night, only to be torn apart before their magic could finish casting.

  Catkin leapt at lesser fiends with claws bared. They were fast, agile, and desperate.

  But the monsters were faster.

  Wolfkin fought in coordinated packs, howling as they tried to surround the threat.

  But the monsters didn’t fear coordination.

  They overwhelmed it.

  A nine-tailed fox, vast and divine, stood atop a ridge and roared. Her body glowed with celestial fire.

  She stood alone.

  She roared alone.

  And in the end… she fell alone.

  Dark elves clung to treetops, whispering death-spells between the leaves, only to be pierced by winged abominations, their lifeless bodies falling like fruit from branches.

  Elven fire lit up the forest, one final blaze of defiance.

  And with them, the World Tree, the heart of elvenkind, burned to ash.

  Below ground, dwarves fought with masterwork steel against burrowing horrors, only to be devoured by creatures that had never seen the sun.

  In the sea, Atlanteans struck with tridents and summoned whirlpools, but their blood dyed the ocean crimson.

  In the evernight, demonkin fought with fury. Spells and brute force. Bone and blade.

  But fury alone did not save them.

  The arenas turned into graves.

  In the skies above, harpies screamed as their wings were shredded mid-flight. Seraphim, once serene and perfect, fell from the skies with light extinguished in their eyes.

  And then…

  Silence.

  The realm faded to black.

  Only one thing remained. A cold darkness.

  Ayla floated, stunned, her breath gone. Her heart ached.

  And then she saw it.

  Words glowing in the void.

  They pulsed, one after another:

  THE WORLD HAS FALLEN

  HOPE RESTS IN YOUR HANDS

  FIGHT THE NIGHTMARE

  RECLAIM THE LIGHT

  AND REBUILD

  THE DREAM LAND

  Each phrase flickered before dissolving into the next, like a divine mandate.

  Ayla stared into the light.

  It wasn’t just a game anymore.

  It was her world now.

  And it was falling.

  ……

  Ayla’s eyes snapped open.

  For a moment, everything felt still.

  She sat up slowly, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the room around her. Velvet drapes. Marble floor. Gilded walls. A bed softer than clouds beneath her.

  This wasn’t Selini.

  This was… Stellar.

  Then…

  The door burst open.

  “KYAAAAA! Who are you?! Where’s my aunty?!”

  Ayla turned toward the voice, startled.

  It wasn’t a knight.

  It wasn’t a maid.

  It was a child, frightened, confused, pointing at her like she was a stranger.

  Because she was.

  Ayla looked down at herself.

  Her hands.

  Her newbie leather armor.

  Her reflection in the mirror just beyond the canopy.

  Black hair. Eyes like obsidian.

  Not the silver silks and clear blue-sky eyes of Cryssa Stelluna.

  But a familiar face, one etched in hours of gameplay and victory.

  Frostina.

  She is back.