Chapter 3: Guardian
3.0 Settling In
A week had passed.
Ian's gut had slowly started realizing he wasn't dreaming, though his brain was still behind.
He had settled into Charlotte's rhythm, helping around the clinic when he could.
The city outside moved around him—wagons rolling, vendors shouting, children laughing—but Ian felt like he was still on the sidelines.
He couldn't control magic yet, couldn't protect anyone, and the world seemed to rush past him.
Lying in his new bed, he looked up at the roof.
The room reminded him of the one he had at home, but with fewer details.
"Everything really went downhill after Monika, huh," he whispered quietly to himself.
## 3.1 Frustration and Failure
Ian stood up—the wooden floor creaking slightly as he stretched his arms and neck.
A target was in front of him: a paper on the wall.
He raised his hands and shouted, "Fireball!" hoping at least a flicker of a spell would appear in his line of sight.
But nothing happened.
Ian slumped onto his bed again—the feeling of failure covering him like a cold ocean wave.
Anger washed over him, causing him to throw his pillow across the room.
"You can't be serious..." he muttered, covering his face with his hands.
Looking at the paper only made him more frustrated.
He quickly got up, ripped it down, and lay down again.
A slight beam of sunlight caught in his eyes as if mocking him.
Outside, people laughed, wagons rolled, and children played.
It was like the world hated him.
For the past week, the same outcome had haunted him.
Failure after failure was slowly gnawing away at him.
## 3.2 Charlotte's Arrival
He didn't hear the footsteps approaching his room—but snapped out of it when he heard a soft knock on the already-open door.
He felt two questioning eyes on him.
Charlotte.
She darted quickly to the pillow on the floor, then back.
"What... are you doing?" she asked.
She approached, crossing her arms over her chest.
Ian sighed. "Practicing magic, I guess."
He really didn't want to talk about it.
But Charlotte's blue eyes were gnawing at him, just like his failure.
"Oh, and how'd that go?" she asked again.
"You don't give up, do you?" Ian said as he sat up.
"Fine. I'll give in. I failed miserably."
Charlotte smirked, almost as if she enjoyed his misery.
"Dumbass," escaped her mouth.
Ian had gotten used to the city in the last week.
But he had also gotten used to Charlotte's comments.
"When you're finished talking and wasting your breath on magic, go down to the lobby. You have a visitor," Charlotte said.
That caught Ian's attention.
"Visitor? Me?" he asked.
Who would possibly want to visit him?
He knew no one except Charlotte in this world.
"Seek, and you shall find," Charlotte said as she disappeared out of the room once again.
## 3.3 The Guardian Appears
Sure enough—when Ian walked out into the clinic lobby, a man stood there.
Blonde, brown-eyed, and about Ian's height.
He wore a suit of armor that looked more ceremonial than practical—thin white fabric stretched over it.
"You must be Ian. Am I right? My name is Ryn," the man spoke firmly and formally.
Was he in trouble?
What could he have done for a knight to come to him personally?
"Don't worry. You are not in trouble. Quite the opposite.
I'm here to commend you."
Ian just looked at him, trying not to leave his mouth agape as Ryn spoke.
"Pardon?" finally escaped his mouth.
The knight chuckled briefly.
"A passerby told me about you. When you protected this woman from a masked thug," Ryn said, looking at Charlotte.
She stood between them, leaning against the wall, before looking back at him.
Ian froze slightly.
He didn't remember anyone there except him, Charlotte, and the thug.
Hell, he couldn't even describe how he had won that fight.
"I will be your guardian for a little.
To protect you momentarily in case you get ambushed due to your heroic act," Ryn spoke.
Ian couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
"Is this guy serious? Or is this some trick?" he thought.
It felt absurd to have a knight as a bodyguard.
"A knight? For me?" he wondered once more.
Once again, Ian was awestruck, but still skeptical.
He didn't know whether to laugh or not—Ryn looked far too serious to be joking.
A picture flashed in Ian's brain: him walking down a marketplace with Ryn close behind him.
Charlotte's cold blue eyes silently urged him to accept Ryn's offer.
"Right... thanks, Ryn," Ian finally replied.
Ryn simply nodded in response.
## 3.4 Streets with a Guardian
Walking down the city streets, Ian felt both nervous and curious.
He had lived here a week, but now someone else was watching his back.
"So… where are we headed?" Ryn asked.
"Wherever the path takes us," Ian replied calmly.
A carriage rolled past, forcing them into a narrow alley.
Ian's curiosity got the better of him—he stepped further in.
"Careful," Ryn warned.
"This area can be dangerous. We should head back before it gets too late."
Ian ignored Ryn's warning as he walked deeper into the alley.
Something had caught his attention—yet he couldn't pinpoint what.
"Sir, I highly recommend we go back. It would only be a nuisance to Charlotte if you got harmed."
Before Ian could respond, a glowing red fireball streaked toward him, trailing smoke.
Ryn jumped ahead—deflecting it with a swift swing of his sword almost effortlessly.
Ian stumbled back, heart hammering.
"Magic…" he whispered.
"Correct," Ryn said, scanning the alley.
Two masked figures approached.
Ian's first instinct was panic—but then he spotted a stack of crates and shoved one over to create a barrier.
Ryn moved like a shadow, swiftly taking control of the situation.
Within moments, the masked attackers were disarmed and held against the wall.
Street knights appeared from the far end, taking the men into custody.
Ian barely had time to process what had happened.
One thing was clear: with Ryn, he wasn't helpless anymore.
"Are you alright, sir?" Ryn asked.
Ian nodded. "Yeah, and you?" he responded.
Ryn shook his head. "You shouldn't worry about me. I'm unscathed."
The street knights dragged the masked men away, their boots echoing down the alley until the sound disappeared into the noise of the city.
Silence rushed in to replace it.
Ian stood there, chest rising and falling too fast, fingers curled tight as if he were still bracing for impact.
If Ryn hadn't been there—he didn't want to think about any other outcome, but he couldn't avoid it.
Ryn sheathed his sword with practiced ease and turned toward him.
"You reacted well," he said. "You created cover. Most freeze."
Ian let out a weak breath. "Didn't feel like reacting."
"It rarely does."
They started back toward the clinic.
The city felt louder now—too alive.
Every shout, every hoofbeat made Ian tense.
He caught his reflection in a shop window as they passed.
Someone walking ahead. Someone walking behind.
Not someone standing on his own.
By the time they reached the clinic, dusk had settled in.
Charlotte was already waiting.
Arms crossed. Eyes sharp.
"I leave you alone for less than an hour," she said flatly, "and you attract spellfire."
Ian opened his mouth, then closed it. "Wasn't trying to."
"You never are."
Her gaze flicked briefly to Ryn. "You were supposed to keep him safe."
"I did," Ryn replied evenly. "No injuries."
Charlotte exhaled through her nose, then turned back to Ian.
"Sit."
He did. Only then did he notice his hands shaking.
She checked him quickly. No wounds. No burns. Nothing visible.
"You're alive," she said at last. "That's enough."
Ian nodded, staring at the floor. "Doesn't feel like it."
Charlotte paused. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
Ian hesitated. The words crowded his throat, heavy and dangerous.
He swallowed them down.
"Nothing," he said. "Just… adrenaline."
She studied him for a long moment, clearly unconvinced.
"I'll give you two space," Ryn said quietly, stepping back toward the door.
The clinic felt smaller once he was gone.
Charlotte leaned against the counter. "You hate being helpless."
Ian didn't answer.
"You don't like that someone had to step in for you," she continued.
"You wear it all over your face."
He clenched his fists. "I don't want to be dead weight."
Silence.
"You aren't," she said. "But you're trying to force something that isn't there."
He laughed softly. "You mean magic."
"Yes. And no."
She walked closer. "You're tense. Closed off. Mana doesn't move through people like that."
Ian looked away, too aware that she could see how tightly he was holding himself together.
"Stop measuring yourself against others," Charlotte said. "Especially knights."
He didn't reply.
She sighed. "You didn't run today."
That made him look up.
"You could have," she said. "You were scared. I could see it."
Her voice softened, just a fraction. "But you stayed."
Then, just as quickly, she turned away.
"Don't make me worry like that again," she muttered.
Ian sat there long after she left.
Outside, Ryn's footsteps paced steadily.
Guardian.
The word scraped against something inside him.
Ian stared at his hands.
They were the same hands as always.
And that was the problem.
## 3.5 Night Thoughts
That night, Ian couldn't fall asleep.
All he could do was think. Feel.
He thought about the day.
Ryn saving him in the alleyway—and then Charlotte giving him an earful.
He felt guilt. Disappointment in himself.
He knew he'd been relying on others for the past week.
If he wasn't here, no one would lose anything.
He swept the floors of the clinic every now and then. Still—that was child's play.
He wasn't very useful to Ryn either.
Only barricading himself during the alleyway fight.
"Goddamn, I'm pathetic," he muttered, arm over his face.
He couldn't use magic.
He could barely fend off an attacker.
He wasn't very skilled at anything particular, except things that have no use in this world.
He knew what a particle accelerator did. He knew how to ride a bike. He knew how to use a computer.
What would he possibly gain from using all of this?
There were no particle accelerators, bikes, or computers here. Nothing.
"Why am I like this?"
He sat up, raising his hand for yet another try at magic.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Charlotte had told him it should tickle when you use magic the first times.
He couldn't even imagine how that would feel.
He couldn't visualize ever using magic.
Not even in a million years would he succeed.
He looked out the window.
The city was sleeping while he was awake.
It had slumbered into its dreams, leaving Ian with the nightmares no one wanted.
Even at night—the city looked calm, collected, and functioning.
Ian was jealous. Jealous of Charlotte. Jealous of Ryn. Jealous of everyone else who was better than him.
He knew he wasn't the one who should be envious.
Yet here he sat in someone else's home on a warm bed, wishing to be better than others.
"Pathetic," he said, before falling onto the bed again.
The only thing he could see now was the soft sky-blue ceiling, one he'd confuse with the sky quite often when waking up.
He corrected his position—slowly closing his eyes as his head fell onto the soft pillow.
The warm blanket over him couldn't distract him from himself.
He knew he was the problem, but didn't want to admit it.
His eyelids grew heavy.
The blue ceiling slowly faded out of view as his eyes began to close.
He fell asleep.
The only sound left was his breathing. Feeling louder than ever.