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... "

Alaric hums in response, his hands still lazily fondling her breasts, his fingers tracing circles around her nipples. 'Her tits are so soft,' he thinks, a wave of possessive satisfaction washing over him. 'Perfect handfuls.'

"Could we…" Cassandra hesitates, her cheeks flushing again, even after everything they've just done. "Could we maybe… next time… do this in a bedroom?" She rushes the last part out, her gaze fixed on the grass, avoiding his eyes. "Or… or somewhere… romantic ...

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In the year of 632, a young Emperor was crowned at an age of eight. He was crowned with a crown of a dying Empire, plagued by enemies, internal strife and plague. This was the Sassanid Empire, and he was Yazdegerd III, the last Sassanid Emperor. He was meant to guide the Empire out of these dark times and he was meant to revive the fallen giant.

But it was not to be. After continuous defeats of the Sassanids, the Empire eventually succumbed to the pressure, both external and internal.

But what if?

Table of Contents:

This story contains numerous points of view - you will be told the story and its parts through the eyes of more than one person.

There will be romance - at least I hope so. I am not sure how I'll develop the relationship between the main couple, but I plan to have a bit of romance there.

This story isn't Self-Insert.

There will be many characters, some more important than others.

Although this is a fiction, most of the characters and events occuring are real and this book works with historical events.

And last but not least, you may find this book offensive. After all, it rewrites history completely. And if you do, just don't read it.

Enjoy!

……………………………………………………………

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My name is Yan, and since I was a child, I’ve been able to see some strange things.For example—In elementary school, our new neighbor Aunt Tan had a pair of all-around genius twins, who were like the “precious little geniuses” with halos above their heads. They could recite the English-Chinese dictionary backwards at three, master both Chinese and Western musical instruments by five, and hack into a country’s database by seven…Growing up next to such prodigies, my life was inhumane, tragic, and constantly subjected to comparisons.To escape the comparisons with these “other people’s children,” I specifically applied to a private boarding school for middle school.On my first day, my deskmate was a small, thin girl with bangs, wearing an old uniform, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.Three months later, she woke up from a nap with a “rebirth” halo above her head.She moved effortlessly among the cold academic genius, the wolf-like school bully, the fierce boss, and the gentle childhood friend, leaving me, a lonely onlooker, utterly amazed.By university, I thought I had finally escaped this abnormal world.But as soon as I stepped into my dorm room, my footsteps froze.My roommates each had halos like “ancient times to modern,” “post-apocalyptic superhuman,” “will die if not spending money,” and “ghost king revival.”I clutched my little blanket and applied to the counselor for a room change, but to no avail.Over time, I gradually got used to it. “Handover systems,” “management systems,” “book transmigration,” “infinite worlds,” “three-and-a-half-year-olds,” “interstellar live streams,” “red envelope groups”…The types of halos kept increasing, and I was able to calmly ignore all of it, focusing on my own life.Every morning, I skillfully helped my “ancient to modern” roommate, who was being blacklisted online, dodge campus paparazzi and secure seats for class.At noon, I assisted my tycoon roommate in distributing today’s haul of luxury skincare and designer bags, tasting the city’s top private chef’s custom lunchbox, and exclaiming with emotion, “Darling, can I really accept these?”In the evening, I enjoyed the flowers and plants cultivated by my superhuman roommate on the balcony, tasting a mutated cherry tomato and commenting, “I feel refreshed and purified.”Late at night, when my ghost king roommate quietly climbed back through the window, I peeked out to ask, “You’re back a bit late today, didn’t bring anything back, did you?”My name is Yan, and I am not the protagonist of this world.