By the time I reach the city gates, the sky is doing that beautiful dramatic thing — all orange and gold, like someone spilled paint on the clouds. Dusk is settling in, casting the whole place in warm shadows.
The gates are huge — towering structures of old stone, flanked by guards in armor that looks like it weighs more than I do. People are moving about in a hurry, carts rolling in and out, traders shouting prices, kids running under horses like they have no survival instinct.
I take a deep breath, straighten my back, and approach the gate.
"Name and purpose?" one guard says, holding out a hand.
"Uh, I'm an examinee," I reply, slipping into that unnecessarily formal, almost Shakespearean English I've now mastered. "Here to return to the examination facility."
He eyes me suspiciously. "Identification?"
I blink. "Oh! Right, one moment." I dig into the bag I managed to carry (or more like cling to) and pull out the dusty brown uniform.
The guard frowns. "Where is your batch?"
"Batch?" I repeat.
"Your ID batch. Token. Certification. Anything?"
I check my pockets, my sleeves, my boots. Nada. "I might've... misplaced it?"
Or maybe I never had it to begin with. Am I even officially registered? What if the whole shadow-hole-yeet-me-into-another-world thing bypassed the formalities?
The guard is now looking at me like I'm a scam artist.
"Please wait outside," he says, clearly done with me.
I step aside and lean against a wall, feeling the weight of everything suddenly press on me. No ID. No friends. No map. No clue.
And then...
Trumpets.
Because of course there are trumpets.
Everyone around me immediately scrambles to clear the path as a grand carriage approaches. Massive white horses pull an ornate carriage with gilded edges and a deep crimson crest on the door.
"Keep your head down," a man next to me whispers urgently.
"Why?" I ask.
"It's Crown Princess Elena."
My eyes widened. I duck my head just like everyone else, but curiosity betrays me. I sneak a peek.
The window curtain lifts slightly. A woman leans forward — a wide hat shadowing her face. Golden brown hair cascades down in perfect waves. Her skin is pale and flawless, like porcelain kissed by moonlight. I can't see her eyes at first, but then she tilts her chin...
Dark brown eyes. Piercing. Focused. On me.
My heart skips.
Then stumbles.
Then starts sprinting like it's late for a meeting.
Wait, what? What is happening?
Is this... love at first sight? Lust at first glance? Pure royal anxiety?
And then... she mouths something.
"It's him."
Wait. What?
She turns and says something to one of the knights. He immediately dismounts and walks over to the gate guard. The guard listens, glances at me, then nods.
The carriage rolls away.
The guard walks back, suddenly all smiles. "You may enter now, good sir. Had you mentioned you were associated with the Princess, we wouldn't have troubled you."
"I... what?" I blink at him. "I mean, yes. Of course. Naturally."
Inside, I am screaming.
What just happened? Who is she? Why did she recognize me? Why did she say that like I'm the chosen one in a prophecy no one warned me about?
I shuffle into the city, still dazed. I ask around for directions and eventually make it to what I assume is the examination facility.
But before I can even process that, something else grabs my attention.
A palace.
And not just any palace. This place is straight out of a fantasy game's final cutscene. Massive white marble towers rise into the pink-orange sky. Golden domes shimmer. Carved pillars with winged beasts spiral upward. Flags flap in the wind, each embroidered with the royal crest. Fountains sparkle. Music echoes faintly from inside.
It's beautiful. And terrifying.
I stare. I don't even care if I look like a country bumpkin.
And I remember that woman. That moment.
I sigh. "This is a mess."
Finally, I tear my eyes away and walk toward the gates of the examination facility. One foot in front of the other. Time to figure out what this world wants from me.
Chapter 4: Rust and Rumors
The sun is already dipping low, casting long golden streaks across the worn cobblestones as I finally reach the iron gates of the examination facility. Above it hangs a massive board, weathered and crooked, with the words Nemora Examination Facility etched in rusty, faded lettering. The whole place gives off serious 'abandoned castle turned school for misfits' vibes. Not exactly welcoming.
I trudge up to the gate, already preparing to brainstorm ways to sneak in. Again. Because apparently in this world, you can't just exist without a pass. This time, however, I don't think Princess Elena is going to magically pop out of the shadows and save my sorry behind.
Just as I'm plotting my infiltration strategy (which involves a lot of fake confidence and maybe some dramatic sneezing to cause a distraction), a voice booms from the side.
"Xiao Zhen! What are you doing there?"
I freeze.
Wait. What?
The guard strides over, frowning with the authority of someone who definitely remembers yelling at you for climbing over walls last week. I'm too stunned to react.
He starts scolding me like I'm some truant schoolboy. "I went through so much trouble to get you an application. And now you're just standing here like a stray cat? You're ruining everything, boy. Is the exam so frightening that you're paralyzed at the gate?"
I blink. My mouth opens, then closes. I'm not sure what response is appropriate for this level of mistaken identity.
"I understand it's scary," the guard continues, his voice softening just a little. "But think about what comes after. If you pass… you'll be among the knights. One of us. Just get through this. I know you can."
He looks at me with something oddly close to fatherly affection. I nod slowly, very aware that I'm playing a dangerous game of pretend. "I'll do my best," I say, trying to sound confident and not like someone who just arrived in this world with no idea what day it is.
The guard sighs with relief. "Good. I'm proud of you. And don't take other people's harsh words to heart. You've made it this far, haven't you?"
More nodding. Less talking. That's my current survival strategy.
"Go to your room and rest," he says firmly. "You've got your screening tomorrow."
Oh. Fabulous. Tomorrow. I smile through the misery curling in my gut, give him a respectful nod, and shuffle through the gates.
The inside of the facility feels like someone merged a medieval abbey with a college dormitory. Ancient stone walls, flickering torches (yes, actual fire torches), and rows of heavy wooden doors lining narrow corridors. I half expect a ghost to float by in a scholar's robe.
It's already sunset, the sky bleeding orange and purple through the arrow-slit windows. I decide to head straight to my room to avoid running into anyone who might expect me to know things I don't.
Small issue: I have absolutely no idea where my room is.
So I do what any lost soul in a mysterious dorm would do—wander aimlessly and pretend I'm deep in thought. Maybe I'll find a sign, or a friendly talking wall. No luck so far.
Just as I'm passing through a narrow stone alleyway between two buildings, a group of students turns the corner and blocks my path. The guy at the front walks like he owns the whole campus—and probably a couple of people too. He spots me, grins, and laughs so hard it echoes.
"Oh, you survived?" he says, mock surprise painted across his smug face. "We honestly thought you'd become jungle meat by now. It's a real shame, honestly. A loser like you making it back? Utterly disgraceful."
Behind him, the others snicker like trained hyenas. I stay quiet, partly because I'm outnumbered, and partly because I don't even know this man's name or power level. That seems like important information before engaging in any ego battles.
He steps closer, grabs my neck—not tight enough to really hurt, but enough to humiliate. "Maybe a knight found you and dragged your pathetic self here. But let me be clear—tomorrow? You're not going to survive. You think this is your world now? You're a slave, remember that. You shouldn't be competing with us. It's embarrassing."
He shoves me back with a sneer, his gang trailing behind him in a chorus of laughter. I clench my fists, jaw tight, but say nothing. Survival first. Vengeance… maybe later.
Once they disappear around the corner, I exhale sharply.
"Hey!" a voice calls, and I turn to see a round, familiar face jogging up to me. The slightly out-of-breath chubby boy from earlier—my only accidental ally so far.
"You alright?" he pants, then grabs my arm to help me stand straight. "I saw them corner you. I was worried. You shouldn't walk alone this late."
"I'm fine," I mutter, eyes down.
He doesn't buy it but doesn't press either. "Come on, I'll take you to your room."
I nod, silently thanking the universe for sending at least one decent soul my way. We walk together through the winding halls until we stop in front of a door that looks slightly more miserable than the rest.
"Here it is," he says, pushing it open.
The room is small, square, and smells faintly of dust and old ink. A worn-out bed sits in one corner with scratchy-looking sheets. A small wooden desk leans against the opposite wall. The kind of place that screams 'character building.'
The boy flops onto a nearby stool while I stand awkwardly in the doorway.
"You should rest," he says, then adds with a grin, "Not that you ever listen."
I chuckle softly and sit down on the bed. For a moment, it's just us in the quiet.
"You really don't remember much, do you?" he asks.
I blink. "What?"
He waves a hand. "Never mind. You're probably just tired."
He leans back, chatting away about things I mostly pretend to understand. Honestly, I'm just relieved to have someone talking to me like I belong here.
And maybe, just maybe, I will.
Eventually.
We keep chatting, the sunset outside bleeding fully into twilight, and I forget for a moment that I'm lost in a world I didn't choose.