"—From today onward, you are my little brother!!"
"Huh?!"
What the hell was happening?
Haru had just woken up from a dizzy, feverish haze—still disoriented and barely able to process his own condition—when that icy, authoritative voice cut through his confusion like a blade.
Wait, what?
He distinctly remembered passing out after binge-watching anime all night. So where was this voice coming from?
Hold on—was it a burglar?! His family was away on vacation, leaving him home alone.
Alarm shot through him. Ignoring his groggy state, he forced his eyes open despite the pounding headache and the strange, molten heat coursing through his body.
But instead of his familiar bedroom ceiling, what greeted him was a vast expanse of blue sky and drifting clouds—a scene so breathtaking it could've been ripped straight from a fantasy realm.
His vision was blurry, his head splitting, and his entire body burned as if he'd been tossed into a furnace. The sheer intensity of the sensations made it impossible to dismiss this as a dream or hallucination.
How was he outside? He'd been safely tucked in his room just moments ago!
"Awake now?"
"Mmm… ngh—"
The voice above him was melodic, like plucked strings of a moon lute—elegant yet carrying an undeniable weight. Only then did Haru realize he was lying sideways, cradled against someone. No, more accurately, his head was resting on their lap.
But before he could process the fact that he was receiving a lap pillow, that same regal voice—cold as winter steel yet roaring with the authority of a lion's growl, a tiger's snarl—snapped his attention back.
Still reeling from the sky's impossible beauty and his own bewilderment, Haru dragged his gaze away from the heavens and—
—found himself staring up at a face so flawless it could've been carved from jade.
A woman who appears to be in her early twenty, with a delicate, almost shy demeanor. Her jet-black hair, smooth as silk, was intricately braided. She wore a pristine white hanfu, its ancient Chinese elegance amplifying her ethereal beauty—a vision of grace, like an immortal descended from myth.
A noble lady from ancient China?
Wait- China?
Cosplay? Or… had he actually isekai'd?
No. Before jumping to conclusions, he needed answers. What in the world was going on?!
And who was she? Why was she with him? And why was he lying on her lap like this?
Wait—what had she just said? That he was now her little brother?
In an instant, Haru's mind spun with confusion. The unfamiliar surroundings, the strange woman interacting with him—none of it made sense. One moment, he'd been asleep in his bed, and the next… this. His brain was nothing but a storm of question marks.
"Um, miss… er, young lady, you are…?" His voice came out hoarse.
"Don't move."
"Huh?"
On top of everything, Haru realized his condition was far from ideal. His body ached as if he'd plummeted from a skyscraper, and his pajamas were in tatters. Glancing down, he saw no visible injuries, but moving even a finger felt like lifting a boulder.
It was like the exhaustion after overtraining—muscles screaming, limbs heavy.
But the real problem? He was sprawled half-naked in front of a stunning beauty.
The girl's expression remained serene, her gaze steady. Yet Haru's face burned with embarrassment. He wanted to cover himself, but his arms refused to cooperate. Thankfully, certain reactions hadn't kicked in—or this would've been ten times more awkward.
Don't get the wrong idea, he mentally scrambled. It wasn't that the girl lacked appeal—far from it. His body was just too wrecked to respond.
A bittersweet relief.
What if she thinks I'm some kind of creep?!
Never in his wildest dreams had Haru imagined making a Terminator-style entrance in front of a stranger—scorched clothes, disoriented, and utterly helpless. Words failed him.
Between the shock and the avalanche of questions, his mind was chaos. All he could do was stare up at the girl holding him—no, cradling him—with forced calm.
The icy, regal girl seemed oblivious to Haru's embarrassment. His half-dressed state didn't faze her either.
"Name."
"Eh?"
"Name." (Her brow furrowed slightly.)
"Haru..."
"Haru? Japanese? But you… you look Chinese."
"Huh?" Haru blinked, too stunned to even process what she meant.
Was it the shape of his eyes? His facial features?
He had no idea how to respond, but she didn't give him time to figure it out.
"Doesn't matter. From now on, your name is Luo Haru."
…What?
WHAT?!
Did she just change his name without asking?!
She didn't even explain herself!
The girl gave off this intense, unshakable aura. It wasn't just beauty—she had the vibe of an empress. Someone you didn't argue with. She didn't waste words. She spoke, you listened.
Few words, zero room for argument. Pure dominance wrapped in elegance.
"Wha—?!"
Before Haru could even open his mouth to protest, the mysterious beauty slipped an arm under his knees and back and lifted him up into a princess carry.
Haru's brain short-circuited. The last time he'd been held like this, he'd been a toddler.
This was the kind of thing that happened to girls in romance anime, not random guys like him!
She held him with ease and suddenly, the world around them blurred.
No way…
Teleportation? Spatial shifting? Or some kind of divine lightness technique?
The sheer impossibility of it all shoved Haru's earlier confusion aside, leaving only awe and exhilaration in its wake.
'Had he actually crossed into a wuxia or xianxia world?!
As the girl adjusted her grip, Haru—now able to move his head slightly—finally got a proper look at their surroundings. They stood at the edge of a massive crater, deep in what looked like primordial wilderness. The scarred earth resembled the aftermath of a meteor strike.
Wait… had he been lying at the bottom of that pit earlier?
Did I just pull an "object fallen from the sky" trope and get "picked up" by her?!
Clearing his throat, he mustered his most polite tone:
"Ahem… Miss, may I ask your esteemed name?"
His mind was already racing with grand plans which he got after reading many xianxia novels—brewing wine, inventing paper, revolutionizing pig farming, plagiarizing ancient poetry, marrying a princess, seizing the throne… or perhaps embracing the carefree life of a wandering hero.
The girl's reply cut through his delusions of grandeur:
"...Luo Hao."
Luo Hao?
That didn't sound like a woman's name at all—let alone one belonging to this ethereal beauty!
Noticing his puzzlement, she clarified with imperial finality:
"Luo Cuilian. Style name 'Hao.' And you will address me as 'Elder Sister.'"
"Luo Hao… Luo Cuilian?!"
She nodded once.
Hold up—
Isn't that the [Campione!] version of the "Rakshasi King"?!
But before Haru could process the bombshell, the woman—no, the monarch who slew gods—ignored his shell-shocked expression. With a glance at the crater, she pivoted on her heel and leapt.
Her sleeves billowed like celestial banners as she soared through the forest, carrying him with effortless grace—a goddess traversing the mortal realm.
Their destination? A secluded mountain peak, untouched by human presence, where a single thatched cottage stood amidst emerald hills and crystalline streams.