(Narrator’s POV)
And that’s where we leave our heroes... and Dallas. Until next time—
“Oh no, you don’t.”
My shoulder is suddenly yanked by none other than Megara, the worst and meanest secretary this side of existence.
“Meg, what do you want?!” I protest. I was finally about to nap before this mess.
“I know what you’re planning,” she snaps, arms crossed and eyes sharp. “But you’ve been summoned.”
Oh no. Not them.
“How high or low are we talking?” I ask, half-dreading the answer. In this realm, an official’s rank is determined by their location. The most important rank officials are in the government’s building extremities. If you’re from the top, you oversee the living. If you’re from the bottom, you manage the dead. Both the dead and the living's top leaders are in each of the building's extremities. And the worst news?
“The highest top and the bottommost low,” Megara grins. I gulp. This is bad.
The doors to the Middle Room creak open—a place where the two most important leaders of this universe meet in symmetrical, a place in which both leaders can be balanced.
As I walk in, I debate which form might get me the least yelled at. Cute and plushy? Nope—Baozhai would be furious. Big and imposing? Too risky—Persephone scares easily.
I settled on something neutral. Just me: deep voice, plain form, relatively non-threatening.
Baozhai doesn’t even wait.
“Well then, Mr. Name,” she says with her signature venom. “What’s the first rule when managing a Life Scroll?”
“To never look away during duty?” I offer.
She slams both palms on the desk. “No, you fool. To follow the instructions! Even a toddler could figure that out!”
Yeah, she’s pissed.
Let me back up: the world I live in oversees all literary works written by men. Life Scrolls are the beating hearts of those worlds. To hold one is to hold a person’s fate. To mess one up is to trigger, say, a landslide during a war because someone fired a cannon while drunk.
Ahem.
“Do you know what you’ve done?!” Baozhai roars.
“Sister, please,” Persephone says gently. “If you kill him, he can’t fix it.”
Baozhai scowls, but backs down.
“You’re lucky she’s here,” she mutters.
Persephone smiles serenely. “Let’s just give him the information and be done with it.”
Information? My eyes narrow.
“Yes, yes,” I nod quickly. “Oversee Dallas. Locate him. Bring him home. Got it.”
“Correct,” Baozhai says, voice sharp. “But since you broke the balance of their world, you are not allowed to tell anyone from both worlds who you are or why you're there.”
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“What?!” I blurt. “How am I supposed to fix anything without talking to them?!”
“Not our problem,” she shrugs.
Persephone chimes in. “You may help him, even guide him—but you can’t let him know you're not from his world. No messages. No scrolls. No divine interventions. Understood?”
I nod weakly. “Yes.”
“Oh, and one last thing,” Persephone adds, spinning her rose wand. “You’re not allowed to come home until the mission is complete.”
“Wait—WHAT?!”
“You better get going,” Baozhai grins, kicking her heel into my fingers as I cling to the edge of the portal opening beneath me.
“Wait—who’s my supervisor?! I don’t know anything about Boston!”
“Why, me, of course,” Baozhai replies cheerfully. She drops a blank scroll after me. “Also, your first assignment is to submit one pro and one con for each U.S. state. Start with Alabama.”
My grip slips.
“Nooooo—!” I scream as I fall into the portal, dignity left behind. I’d like to claim my voice remained deep and rich… but the scream cracked. Badly.
I land with a hard thud. Next to me? The empty scroll.
“Great,” I mutter. “This is truly the worst.”
It had been a weird 24 hours for Dallas Sexton, now going by Austin, who had to convince his friends he wasn’t Austin Wales, CEO of a major Boston Investment firm.
Naturally, they dragged him to the hospital.
“He looks like he has amnesia,” said Dr. White, an old and trusted physician.
Luke sighed. “Why now? We didn’t even get to find out why Emily dumped him.”
“Really, Luke?” Kevin frowned. “You care more about gossip than your friend’s health?”
Mark jumped in to smooth things over. “Luke just processes stress weird, alright?”
Meanwhile, Austin sat up, his expression deadly serious.
“Dr. White, can we keep this internal?”
The doctor smiled. “Of course. Still sharp, I see.”
Kevin squinted. “Austin… are you really planning to run the company like this?”
“How big is the area I manage?” Dallas asked. “In square kilometers.”
“Uh… Boston’s about 125 km2,” Kevin replied, checking his phone.
Dallas chuckled. That’s it? Back home, he oversaw over 200 km2 as an advisor to a literal kingdom. This would be a breeze.
“I can do it. I just need your support,” he said. “Teach me how to be… me.”
Kevin beamed with pride. Mark and Luke exchanged relieved looks. At least the CEO they knew was still in there—somewhere.
Over the next few hours, Dallas was brought up to speed. He was Austin Wales, heir to a long line of elite Bostonians with ties to the founding of the U.S. Financial systems. Rich, respected, and recently dumped by a woman named Emily.
Standard modern fantasy protagonist setup, really.
Dallas, taking his new role seriously, did what any good duke—or CEO—would do: inspect his holdings. Every investment, from nightclubs to bookstores to hospitals. Finally, they arrived at the last stop: the Private Boston Post Office.
“Built by your great-grandfather,” Kevin explained. “Now it is just a tourist trap with a fancy name.”
As they entered, a bell rang.
“Well, well,” said the manager. “If it isn’t Mr. Wales. Surprised to see you here instead of a rooftop bar.”
Dallas ignored him. “I’m here to collect dues.”
“Oh! Right. Late on those,” the manager chuckled nervously. “Hey, have you met our newest hire?”
“Mr. Rock, we really don’t have time—” Kevin started.
“Penny! Come out here!”
A red-haired young woman stomped in from the back, clearly irritated.
“What now?”
“This is Mr. Wales,” the manager grinned.
She looked at Austin, and her eyes burned with sudden, unfiltered rage.
“You?!” she screamed. “You ruined my life!” She stormed over, finger jabbing at his chest.
Kevin stepped between them. “Hey! Don’t touch him!”
“I won’t apologize!” Penny snapped. “He sent me to this place—Dallas did!”
Austin froze. Red hair. Emerald eyes. Ruby lips.
“…Bridget?” he muttered.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not crazy. He killed us all.”
“Take her to the car,” Dallas ordered quietly.
“What are you going to do?” Kevin asked.
“No police. Take us somewhere private.”
Kevin didn’t ask questions. He just smirked and nodded.
Bridget—or Penny—was shaking as she was tied up for safety. The memories are flooding back. The war. The chaos. The man who was always there... ruining everything.
She internally wishes for her duke, Richard Licker, to go and save her from another Sexton mess.
(Narrator’s POV)
Now, now—don’t panic.
Dallas Sexton was never the villain. Never the kidnapper. He was the jester, the clown, the noble fool.
But as Princess Bridget sits tied up in a car, and Dallas stares down his past… She has not seen Dallas in 24 hours, so her mind sees him as a foe rather than a friend.
One has to wonder: Is this how it ends? Can our once-glorious warriors make peace in a land of insane coffee and drivers that use their horns more fluently than their mouths?
Honestly?
I have no idea.
But I do know this: between Dallas’s new job, my cursed assignment, and the fact that I now have to write fifty state summaries...
This is gonna be a long story
Tuesdays and Thursdays, so be on the lookout during those days.
What do you think Dallas will do next now that he has kidnapped the princess?
