Yihan had transmigrated.

Before this, he’d been a 996 corporate drone, grinding overtime daily to climb the ladder—until one day, after twenty straight hours at his desk, he collapsed dead on the job.

In that final flicker of consciousness, he finally grasped life’s preciousness and simple joys. All his striving seemed worthless. Regret swallowed him whole.

When he woke again, he lay in bed—in another world.

Scarred by his past life, he embraced utter idleness this time. No ambitions. No grand goals. Just living freely, happily.

Soon, he discovered he could choose his dreams at will.

But these dreams twisted fairy tales—dark, tragic versions unlike any he’d known.

Like *The Little Mermaid*, where the merfolk drowned the kingdom in tsunami fury after she dissolved into foam.

Like *Red Riding Hood*, where the wolf’s spirit possessed the girl, turning her into a beast that hunted travelers in the woods.

Like *Cinderella*, where she murdered every tormentor and ruled the kingdom as a tyrant…

Utter nonsense.

But Yihan, terminally bored, welcomed the entertainment. Who didn’t love dreaming?

*In dreams, I’m invincible. I do as I please.*

He chose *The Little Match Girl*. Simply because its records were sparse—and her tragic end haunted him most.

He never expected the opening scene to be this intense: the heroine about to burn alive!

Yihan sprinted toward the blazing warehouse the moment his feet hit the ground. Scorching heat waves forced him back, stirring unease.

Ahead, Lia hadn’t noticed him. Like a broken doll, she slumped in a corner, oblivious. A burning pillar groaned above her, ready to collapse.

*He* might be safe here—but others weren’t.

Yihan shouted, but crackling flames drowned his voice. No time left. He gulped frigid air, convincing himself this world couldn’t harm him, and charged in like a reckless porcupine.

Lia stirred, lifting her head drowsily. A blurred figure loomed through the heat haze. Before she could react, an arm shot through the fire, gripping her wrist. She was yanked forward—

—and caught in a warm embrace. Another arm swept under her knees. Yihan hoisted her up like a bandit snatching a maiden, striding toward the exit.

Behind them, the pillar shattered. The warehouse groaned, collapsing as they lunged through the doorway. They tumbled into deep snow just in time.

Cold bit Lia’s face. Black sky filled her vision, endless snow falling. She lay stunned in the drifts, trembling.

Only when her body cooled to normal did she sit up, hunching against the chill.

Yihan brushed snow off his coat, glancing back at the smoldering ruins with a sigh. He turned to the girl who’d stayed frozen in a burning building.

She looked fourteen or fifteen. Curvy yet slender. Wavy dark-gold hair. Skin pale as porcelain, faint brows framing delicate features. Her cheeks held the smooth chill of ice sculpture. Deep emerald eyes gleamed like polished jade.

Her clothes ruined it all—patched rags layered haphazardly for warmth, utterly shapeless.

“You okay?” Yihan asked, worried she still sat dazed in the snow.

Lia flinched, finally focusing on this stranger. *He’d pulled her out. Held her.*

No one had ever helped her. Touched her. Warmth flooded her ears. She tried to smile gratefully, but her stiff lips refused. She could only shake her head.

Relief washed over Yihan. “Why didn’t you run when the fire started? Too scared?”

Lia froze, unable to confess her secret. No one would accept a monster who breathed fire. The orphanage was harsh—selling matches, beatings, hunger—but it was shelter. Outside, she’d freeze or starve.

Her silence read as shyness. Yihan scratched his brow. “Heading back? I’ll walk you.”

She nodded, struggling up. His hand steadied her. She stole glances at his back, craving the lingering warmth of his palm.

No one noticed the fire. The remote warehouse stood ignored as families huddled indoors after dark. Yihan guided the shaken girl toward Soul Valley Town, their footprints weaving crooked paths through the snow.

Lia lived at Saint Peter Orphanage—a charity home run by a stern director for forty lost children.

Silence hung between them as they walked. Food scents drifted from lit windows. Lia pretended indifference, but her eyes kept drifting toward warm candlelight. She swallowed hard.

Yihan saw it all. At a street corner, he vanished briefly. Returned grinning, bread in one hand, roast chicken in the other—like a thief fresh from a heist.

“Eat while hot. Hide it if you take it back.” He pressed the steaming food into her hands.

“Where did you—?” Lia whispered nervously.

“Snatched it from the church kitchen during Mass. Plenty to spare.” He winked, unrepentant.

Her stomach growled. Hesitantly, she split both portions, insisting he take half.

They crouched under a shadowed eave, heads nearly touching as they devoured stolen food. Snowflakes drifted through the dark. Distant church bells tolled. The wind howled like a curtain closing.

Lia paused mid-bite, watching the boy wolf down his meal. She said nothing. Finished eating.

Saint Peter Orphanage stood in northwest Soul Valley Town, ringed by towering fir trees.

Before the heavy iron gate, Lia turned back. The stranger’s silhouette seemed ready to dissolve into the snow.

“Will… will we meet again?” She rose on tiptoe, hopeful yet anxious.

Yihan smiled, waving. His form blurred. His voice faded. She couldn’t hear.

“Yes. Every night. Because I chose your story.”

“You. This world. From now on, they’re the dreams I visit each evening.”