The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King

The mountains blurred past in reverse, receding rapidly into the distance.

Then, out of nowhere, an illusory figure appeared before John.

She wore a flowing green robe, tall and elegant, her aura refined and regal. But her face... it was hazy, impossible to see clearly.

John was startled.

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He hadn't spoken a word—he was only thinking about whether he might be trapped in this strange world—yet this woman had appeared as if reading his thoughts.

"You don't need to be so surprised," she said, her voice ethereal, floating like wind through mist. "I already told you... you've entered this world with your consciousness. I am the ruler of this realm. I know all your thoughts."

She said it casually, as if it were nothing. But John was stunned.

And then... he remembered something.

The AV he had accidentally stumbled across on Kate's computer.

Ahem...

The phantom flickered visibly.

"Boy, stop thinking nonsense. Focus. Be more positive."

"You bastard!" John snapped internally.

She really could read his mind.

"This is a complete invasion of my damn privacy!"

He was instantly furious.

"Swearing is also a bad behavior," the phantom said, shimmering again in response.

"Who the hell are you? Why did you bring me here? And how the hell do I get out?" John barked.

"Relax. I'll answer your questions—one at a time."

The woman's translucent figure flickered with every sentence, her form becoming increasingly faint.

Then she dropped a bombshell.

"I'm Queen Cyan."

John's eyes widened.

Queen Cyan?

The name itself was legendary. A mythical figure spoken of in reverence. And yet here she was—inside a mural?

"More accurately," she continued, "I am one of the countless spiritual wills Queen Cyan left behind. I've been waiting here... for the one who is destined to come."

"You weren't dragged in," she added. "You entered of your own will. That means you are the one."

"As for how to leave... you'll figure it out soon enough."

John stood there, stunned.

A fragment of Queen Cyan's will? That meant... there were thousands of these phantoms scattered elsewhere in the world.

Thousands of echoes of Queen Cyan.

How terrifying must she have been in her prime?

"Boy, don't be so awestruck," she teased. "Since you've made it here, you're destined. If you accept the inheritance, you may very well become the next one."

John cursed in frustration. "Damn it!"

She had done it again—read his mind and called him out on his admiration.

He couldn't stop her from doing it either.

He could try to act indifferent, but deep inside, he couldn't hide the respect rising within him. And she saw it. All of it.

Damn!

There was no winning here.

She was like a wealthy mogul bragging about being poor. He couldn't call her arrogant—because she was simply stating facts.

"Boy, don't be narrow-minded," she said suddenly, flashing again. "I'm not boasting. Just telling the truth."

Queen Cyan, apparently, had been quite the chatterbox in her lifetime.

Every time she peeked into his thoughts, she criticized them without hesitation—completely ignoring how her body was becoming fainter by the second.

John was beyond speechless.

This whole thing felt absurd.

"Boy," she said again, "stop overthinking. Are you ready to accept this inheritance?"

"When did I ever agree to accept it?" John snapped.

"...Uh."

Although her face was still unclear, John could feel her pause—like she'd been stunned.

Apparently, she hadn't expected him to refuse.

This was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who in their right mind would say no?

"You entered this world. That alone is consent," she replied.

"And if I refuse?" John challenged, his tone sharp.

"Then your consciousness will remain here... forever. You won't die, per se—but your body out there will be an empty shell. A vegetative state."

"Shame on you!" John exploded.

So it was coercion.

"Let's be clear—you forced me into this. Don't pretend like I begged you for it."

"Oh, stop pretending," she said flatly. "I can see how excited you are."

"Bullshit! The thing I hate most is being forced into doing something I don't want to do. Like this."

"Hmph!" she snorted.

She had never seen anyone so shameless in the face of an enormous opportunity.

"Enough of your nonsense. Get ready to accept it!"

"Wait..."

"What now?" she snapped. "It's rude to hesitate!"

She was growing visibly impatient.

Clearly, John was the slowest person she'd ever encountered when it came to accepting a miracle.

"I know you're just a remnant of Queen Cyan's will," John said slowly, "but I think you can answer a question that's been haunting me for a long time."

Her tone calmed. "Ask."

She had almost no time left. Her spiritual form was now translucent, a whisper of light and shadow.

John's face turned serious.

"Am I a sorcerer?"

It was a question that had plagued him for far too long.

He needed an answer.

Without it, he couldn't continue practicing the nameless divine skill. The uncertainty would destroy him.

And if anyone could answer him... it was her.

The phantom paused, falling silent for a long moment.

She seemed to look deeply into him—though she had no visible eyes.

Then she flickered once more... and said calmly:

"It's an insult to call you a sorcerer."