"Your Highness, are you alright?"

Amid the surrounding clamor, Lorin woke from unconsciousness. He saw the maid and butler gazing at him with worry. Instinctively, he touched his forehead. Staring at his blood-stained fingers, Lorin froze with a blank stare.

"Is this really a transmigration?" Lorin muttered softly.

Minutes earlier, a being claiming to be a god had told him the library preserving stories across worlds was destroyed. This chaos scrambled all storylines. To fix them, they hired him—freshly unemployed—as an editor.

As Lorin wondered if this was a scam, the being slammed a brick-thick book onto his forehead. Then he appeared here.

"Yes," an ethereal voice echoed in Lorin’s mind.

"Who are you?" Lorin asked mentally.

"The same voice replied, "I am the Bookkeeper, sent by Lord Ling to help correct storylines. For this year, please bear with me. I’m now transmitting the original storyline into your mind."

"Transmit?" Lorin thought of file transfers—computers, not brains.

Before he could react, a flood of foreign memories surged into his head. If the book’s impact was physical pain, this was mental agony.

Seeing Lorin motionless, the butler lightly touched his arm. At that touch, Lorin stiffened like a board and collapsed straight down.

"Ah?!" The crowd gasped. Someone yelled, "Quick! Fetch a doctor!"

By evening, the doctor examined Lorin. He explained it was a minor concussion from a stair fall. Rest would suffice.

The maids watched Lorin, bandaged and dazed. They whispered, "Did the Second Prince go stupid from that fall?"

"Ah!" Lorin suddenly yelled after processing everything, startling the maids.

"Y-Your Highness. Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Lorin eyed the Western-style maid, no longer uneasy. "I’m fine. Just tired."

"Understood. I won’t disturb you."

After closing the door, the maid murmured, "He really did go stupid."

Alone, Lorin touched his forehead, disbelieving. "Damn it. Was that guy really a god?"

Lorin now knew this world: a medieval Western fantasy realm with swords and magic.

"Yes," the Bookkeeper’s voice said. "Lord Ling is one of the world-managing gods."

"Wait," Lorin pinched his brow, recalling the data. "You said a minor female character became a villain due to timeline changes. She dies by the protagonist’s hand. My task is to save her?"

"Correct."

Lorin frowned. "She’s insignificant. Her death shouldn’t affect the world’s ending."

"True."

"Then why save her?!" Lorin shouted.

The Bookkeeper replied calmly, "Because Lord Ling is her biggest fan. Even if this world ends, he won’t let her die."

Lorin seethed at the absurdity. "What if I refuse?"

"You’ll die here. This world never had a Second Prince. Fail in a year, and you’ll be executed for impersonating royalty."

"..."

The original Tewaya Empire indeed had no Second Prince. Lorin was forcibly inserted into the story.

Lorin sighed. "And if I succeed?"

"You return home. Lord Ling grants one wish."

Lorin raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"..." The Bookkeeper seemed to read his mind. "Only wishes that don’t disrupt your world’s natural order. No unrealistic dreams like marrying a rich beauty."

"Tch."

"Clicking your tongue won’t help. Work hard this year. Call me if needed."

The voice vanished.

Lorin surveyed the novel-like luxurious room. He pulled the blanket up, ready to sleep. "Not due today. I’ve got a year. I’ll take it slow."