I woke up in my own bed, staring at the familiar water stain on the ceiling. A thought began to take root in my mind: I don't want to break this soul bond.
Sure, almost getting assassinated in a medieval square and being blasted into unconsciousness by magic was chaotic, but it was way better than my reality. My actual life was a dead end: wasting away day after day behind a supermarket register or hauling boxes in the backroom, waiting for a paycheck that barely covered rent. I could see the miserable end of my life from here.
I wanted to keep things as they were. This bond meant I got to interact with a stunning influencer in the real world, and I got to wield modern firepower in a parallel universe. My life had finally gotten a spark of excitement, and I wasn't about to let it burn out. Clara wanted to break the bond. I wanted to maintain it.
I pulled out my phone and started searching the internet for how to break a soul bond. Naturally, every single result was absolute garbage.
Wait... if I fed these pseudo-spiritual methods to Clara, wouldn't that keep her busy for a while? It was a stroke of evil genius. I started plotting my little conspiracy.
I glanced at the palm of my hand, half-expecting a blue holographic panel to pop up and announce: [Scheming increased to 10]. But forgot I was in the real world.
After mentally preparing myself, I opened Instagram and TikTok, found Clara's official accounts, and sent her a private message.
Not long after, my phone buzzed.
“I’m here,” she replied.
A minute later, another message popped up: “Should we meet somewhere? Are you busy?”
My heart did an embarrassing flutter in my chest. No female influencer had ever replied to my DMs, let alone asked me to hang out in person.
I hated showing my face in public places, especially with someone as recognizable as her. And if we met somewhere private, my crippling lack of self-esteem would kick in, and I probably wouldn't be able to string a coherent sentence together.
I typed back carefully: “Actually, yes, I am a bit busy. But we can discuss things here first. Let’s do a video chat.”
“Okay,” she replied.
I shaved and washed my face, doing my best to look fresh and tidy. Then, I initiated a video call.
When her face appeared on the screen, I realized she somehow looked even better in the modern world. Maybe it was because the clothes she was wearing looked like a stylish cosplay, or maybe it was the spacious apartment in her background.
It made me a bit resentful. She was thriving at the top of the food chain in both worlds. It was incredibly unfair.
She suggested that we needed to work closely together in this world, just in case assassins or any other dangers followed us here.
"Work closely together? You don't mean living together, do you?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly.
"Yes," Clara said matter-of-factly. "Just as I am hosting you in my world, I must ask you to temporarily bear with hosting me in yours."
Excuse me? What on earth made her think I had the capacity to host a Countess in my depressing apartment?
"Wow," I said, leaning back. "Are you sure about that?"
"Is there a problem?"
"Do you even know what that implies?"
"What does it imply?"
"You have absolutely no clue about the dating culture in my world, do you?"
"I have zero interest in it," Clara said coldly. "I just need to spend as much time as possible with you so we can test all the methods to untie our souls."
I pinched the bridge of my nose and started explaining the brutal reality of internet culture. I told her that a massive influencer like her associating with a literal nobody like me would be seen as an insult to her fanbase.
Her followers were mostly obsessive guys, and if they found out, I was dead meat.
They would cyberbully me into oblivion. Furthermore, looking at my messy hair and cheap hoodie, it was obvious I didn't deserve her. We needed a solid cover story.
Clara's eyes glazed over slightly. She was zoning out, just like I had zoned out when she tried to explain her kingdom's history.
"Are you even listening?" I asked.
"Ah... yes. Of course."
"Anyway... like I said, we have to think of a cover story. Otherwise, before any magical assassins find us, we'll be torn apart by your angry fans."
"Is being scolded by people really that big of a deal?" she asked dismissively. "I have faced far worse harassment from rival Counts in the Imperial Parliament."
"Oh, Countess," I groaned. "You severely underestimate the power of cyberbullying in this world. Trust me, we need a plan before we get close to each other."
"If you feel so unpresentable, why don't you simply dress yourself up?" she suggested.
"You think this is just a matter of looks and clothes? Ms. Clara, you are far too naive."
"Then what is it?"
I looked at my own reflection in the front-facing camera, then thought about my pathetic bank balance and dead-end job. I choked on my words.
"In short, my world is very complicated," I mumbled defensively.
"Fine. Then what is your idea?"
I thought for a moment. "How about this: I'll be your bodyguard. You hire me officially. We sign a contract, and that makes it legitimate for us to be seen together."
"And that allows you to live with me?" she asked.
My heart did that embarrassing flutter again, and I saw my ears turn bright red on the screen.
Through the compressed video feed, her appearance was undeniably distracting. She shifted slightly on her end. A sharp collarbone peeked out from the slightly loose neckline of her top, contrasting with her clear skin.
She was not trying to pose or lean into the camera as she did in her social media posts. However, there was an effortless appeal to her. The slight parting of her lips, the steady focus in her purple eyes, and the soft line of her neck. It was a casual kind of sexiness that made my throat go dry.
"But… why... why do you want me to live with you so badly?" I stammered.
"Because I don't know anyone else in this world," she said, her usually authoritative voice dropping vulnerably. "Having you near would put my mind at ease."
I felt like my brain short-circuited. I had never heard a girl say something like that to me in my entire life, let alone a breathtaking influencer. In that exact moment, my resolve hardened into steel: I was going to use every trick in the book to keep Clara around and maintain this soul bond.
Sure, the manipulative thought made me feel a pang of guilt for betraying her trust. But this soul bond wasn't hurting anyone, right? Why not enjoy the dream?
Well... except for that poor assassin. But he deserved it, so that didn't count.
I stammered an agreement, made up a lame excuse about having chores to do, and hastily hung up the call to cool my burning face.
After calming down, I reopened our chat. She had sent a message asking me to compile the information on how to break the soul bond.
Perfect timing. I've got a whole mountain of garbage ready.
I copied a paragraph from the forum and sent it: "Breaking a soul bond with someone from another world requires severing the energetic and emotional ties holding your spirits together... "
Blablabla... Not a single word about spells or real magic."
This was what I wanted. Methods that wasted massive amounts of time were perfect.
"Do you think these people are discussing our situation?" Clara texted back.
"Of course," I typed quickly. "We should try them one by one. Look at how many methods there are; one of them is bound to work."
I was lying. I knew these spiritual influencers were absolute frauds who just threw around buzzwords like energy and emotion, but Clara was desperate enough to try anything. This played right into my hands.
Later that evening, I met up with my best friends, Greg and Christ, for beers and greasy food at our usual dive bar. They are the only reason I went out. After a few rounds, I decided to casually drop the bomb.
"So, uh... I'm going to quit my job," I said, trying to sound nonchalant as I peeled the label off my beer bottle. "Clara hired me, and I am going to be her personal bodyguard."
Greg paused mid-bite of his burger and chewed slowly, while Christ just stared at me over his pint.
"Who is Clara?" Greg asked.
I pulled out my phone, opened TikTok, and pulled up one of her cosplay videos before sliding the device across the table.
Well… although it’s actually just her countess clothes, I just realized.
They both leaned in, and Christ raised his eyebrows.
"Dude," Christ said, pushing the phone back toward me. "Did you inhale too much bleach while cleaning the aisle? Hire a guy like YOU for security."
“Puff. Yeah right. Good imagination, man.” Greg mocked.
"I am serious," I protested. "She approached me at the supermarket."
"Stop lying, Lee," Greg laughed and took a swig of his beer. "She probably asked you where the tampons were, and you imagined a whole employment contract."
"I have proof," I said, snatching my phone back to open my DMs. I showed them our chat log, which specifically displayed the part where we discussed the job arrangement and agreed to meet.
Greg squinted at the screen. “No fucking way. You got tricked, bro.”
“I think you’ll be on one of her prank videos.”
They both started laughing.
Damn. Why do they have the same thought as I did?
"Alright," I said, feeling my pride flare up. "You can laugh, but I will get a photo with her very soon."
"Do not bother," Greg snorted. "You are just going to use an AI tool to generate some fake image and try to pass it off."
"I will provide more than a photo," I said. "I will bring her here to dinner with us, and you can see her with your own eyes."
The laughter stopped. They looked at each other and then back at me, realizing I was serious.
"You are unwell," Christ said, shaking his head. "We can make a bet. If you bring Clara to dinner by next weekend, I will pay your rent for the month. If you fail, you will pay for our drinks for the next six months."
“Tonight, I can ask her out tonight.”
What the fuck was I thinking? I was so drunk.
“Deal!” Greg said, shaking my hand firmly before Christ could.
Sitting back in the booth, with reality setting in, I needed to figure out how to convince Clara to come to a local bar with my friends, NOW.