All Chapters of THE REWRITE: Transmigrating Into Another World: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The archaic phrasing was so absurd it took a moment to register. "Are you insane?!" Mars exclaimed, his voice hoarse. Struggling was futile; the man’s grip was like iron. The man’s eyes, a startling, sharp green,widened then narrowed at the boy. "Is that the way to speak to-" "Shut up!" Mars snapped, the dam of his composure breaking. "I don't know where I am, and I'm hungry. Do you think I have the energy to deal with you?" Tears, his ever-present betrayers, welled in his light blue eyes, and a flush of pink spread across his pale cheeks and nose. He was tired, scared, and so, so hungry. "You're a man," the stranger said, his tone shifting from threatening to deeply amused. "Why are you crying?" "Excuse me," Mars sniffled, trying to twist away. "And why do you think I would let you go, hmm?" The arm tightened, pulling him impossibly closer. 'What the fuck is wrong with this guy?' Mars thought, despair washing over him. "Uh, I don't know... basic human

The world spun. He shook his head, trying to quell the rising panic. He had to calm down. He swallowed, thinking of all the insolent things he’d said to the most feared man in the kingdom. He swallowed again, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He had to get out. But how? Why the hell was he even here? The scene that just happened was from the third chapter- Charlotte pleading to His Highness. The Grandmasters' event was the fourth, a pivotal moment where Charlotte, through her own machinations, would finally persuade a reluctant Keith to take her, setting her scheme for the crown into motion. "What are you thinking so deeply about, hmm?" Mars jumped. Keith was now standing directly in front of him, his towering height casting a long shadow. He leaned over, caging Mars in the chair. "N-nothing..." Mars cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. A strong, calloused hand shot out, grabbing his chin with bruising force. Mars winced, his ow

The journey to the eastern border would take a full day of hard riding. Due to the morning’s activities, they had set out in the afternoon, and when the desert sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the world into an inky, star-dusted blackness, the horses could go no further. They made camp in the lee of a sandstone cliff, the men quickly building a fire whose flames danced like captured demons. The scent of roasting desert hare and flatbread filled the air, a comforting contrast to the vast, empty silence of the dunes. Keith remained in the carriage, and Mars, after a moment’s hesitation, stayed with him. Not because he enjoyed the confinement- to be honest, the carriage was surprisingly spacious, lined with cushioned seats of deep crimson silk and smelling of leather and Keith’s distinctive sandalwood scent- but because the alternative was a circle of hardened warriors who looked at him as if he were a strange insect. Keith had his eyes closed for the entire journey, and he

The return to the palace was a silent, tense affair. Charlotte, triumphant, clung to Keith’s arm as if she were already his consort, her presence a constant, perfumed reminder of Mars’s failure to completely derail her plot. Mars, bruised and exhausted, retreated to the servants’ quarters, his body aching from the ordeal and his mind reeling from the close call. He had survived, but Charlotte had still won her prize. The days blurred into a strange new routine. For reasons known only to his capricious captor, Mars was granted the nebulous post of “office sitter.” His duties were nonexistent; he was merely required to occupy a chair in Keith’s study, a silent spectator to the prince’s ruthless efficiency. Servants came and went with scrolls and reports, and Charlotte made frequent, gloating appearances, her smiles sharp enough to draw blood as she prattled on about the upcoming Grandmasters' event. On the eve of the event, Keith finally closed the last ledger. “Finally! I am

"You brute! I'm sure you did something wrong to the kid," Yver accused, giving his friend's collar a sharp tug. Had it been anyone else, that hand would now be severed. "Why do you think I did something wrong, hmm?" Keith countered, his voice a low growl. He was leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, feigning indifference while a map of the kingdom lay ignored on his desk. Yver was sprawled lazily on the large divan that backed the map of Elarion. "Because you did. I know you, he's been sluggishly trailing behind us for some time now, with such a mopey look on his face. You should feel guilty," Yver accused, "he is not of any importance to me that I'd even want to feel guilty about doing 'anything' to him," Keith only spared him a single glance before looking back down at what was actually important to him. Yver sat up now, his expression one of serious investment in this new drama. "Can I have him, then?" Keith’s head snapped up, a single red brow arching. "What?"