Chapter 4
The bell rang, making everyone bolt up from their seats. Including Ian.
Scanning the room, he could see Monika in the front, looking back at him with a smile.
After they stepped out of the classroom, she walked up to him.
"See you at home," she said, giving him a playful punch to the arm before hugging him.
Ian had a part-time job at a restaurant down the street, and today he was forced to go due to them being understaffed.
It was natural. Winter break was coming soon, and many of the staff were on vacation.
As he walked towards the restaurant he felt the chilly breeze.
"If the wind had effects i bet there'd be snowflakes in it." He thought.
Finally, getting to the restaurant, he looked up at the big red glowing sign.
"Ember Eats." It read.
Walking in, an aroma shocked him heavily.
The restaurant was known for its spicy food.
Walking into the kitchen he got greeted by everyone.
"What's up man, how's it kickin'?" One of them asked. It was his coworker Mike. Probably the one he related to the most.
"I'm alright. It's cold outside." Ian responded, matching the cheerful tone.
"Is Mike 2 years older than me? Or was ir younger?" He thought.
The head chef walkee through the kitchen doors.
"Come on get to work! People are hungry out there!" He shouted just at the edge of people outside the kitchen not to hear.
"Aye aye!" Mike shouted back.
Ian simply nodded, getting to work.
4.1
After work, Ian walked home. He and Monika didn't live far from the restaurant or the college—no more than a fifteen-minute walk.
Getting to the apartment, Ian dragged his backpack up the stairs in the stairwell, shoulders aching from a long day of classes and work.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A familiar name lit up the screen: Monika.
He smiled, thinking it was just another "goodnight" text—but something in the message made his chest tighten.
"Goodnight," he said while writing back.
Ian twisted a key in the door before stepping into the apartment, greeted by the scent of food and singing.
"Like usual," he thought. He felt achingly happy for this—not from work or classes, but like a starving lioness finally catching her prey.
A familiar voice called out from inside.
"Come in!"
It was Monika.
A spider hung in its web above the door, devouring a fly.
Ian stepped in, taking off his jacket and shoes before greeting her.
He entered the kitchen, the smell of food sipping into his senses like a persistent summer mosquito.
Monika walked in as well, from the living room.
"Oh, it's you. I thought you'd be back later since you had work, so I wrote 'goodnight,'" she said.
Ian shook his head. "Nah, I got off early. My boss said it was fine."
"Don't know why i responded either."
Monika nodded in response before speaking again.
"I made some food for you. It should still be warm. Otherwise, put it in the microwave," she smiled.
Ian nodded, then poured some soup into a bowl.
He followed Monika to the living room—both of them settling on the couch in front of the TV.
Ian happily ate his soup, tasting even better than it smelled.
"Your cooking is like a warm hug," he chuckled slightly.
Monika just laughed. "You think?"
Ian's smile grew a little wider.
"Yeah. Why not."
The TV wasn't even on. Yet they were more entertained by each other than the average channel would be.
Monika and Ian's eyes locked in place, like two sensors sensing each other.
He only pulled back from dreamland when he spilled soup on his shirt.
"Shit!" he swore.
Monika giggled on the other end of the couch, covering her mouth.
"Idiot, that's what you get for not being attentive," she said as she walked toward the restroom to get some paper.
Ian was hit by a toilet paper roll in the head.
"Ow."
He felt a sharp pain in his chest—not from the paper roll, but from longing. Like he had missed this feeling, though he didn't know why.
Monika walked back in with a playful smirk.
"You're welcome."
This time, she sat next to him on the dark couch, wiping his black shirt.
"You're so clumsy," she said as she licked the last bit of soup from his clothes.
A yawn escaped him. "Thanks," he responded.
"Someone's tired." Monika leaned onto his shoulder.
Ian started the TV. The logo appeared big on the otherwise black screen.
"What should we watch?" he asked, clearly ready to fall asleep to whatever she picked.
Monika thought. "Hm… how about funny cat videos on Hootube?"
Ian pressed the TV control a little, and Hootube started.
In the recommended feed were only cat videos.
He had known she would choose that.
He picked one at random.
Ian watched quietly—no, he wasn't really watching. His mind wandered elsewhere.
Towards Monika.
He turned his head towards her. She was just like she used to be—exactly the same
Yet, she felt so unfamiliar. Like a relative he barely knew.
But she was happy—laughing even. And that was enough for Ian.
The warmth spread through his body like a liquid as he heard Monika's chuckle echo in his mind.
A cat knocking over a glass pulled him back as it shattered on the floor.
Monika laughed. "Did you see that?" she spoke between breaths.
"It wasn't that funny," Ian replied.
Monika pouted in mock offense. "You just lack a sense of humor."
Ian felt his eyelids growing heavy. He fought to stay awake—not for the videos, but for Monika.
Ian rested his head ontop of hers, eventually, he succumbed to slumber, thinking about how happy he felt right now.
4.2
Ian jerked awake. The familiar blue ceiling above him felt colder, farther away than he remembered.
He curled into a ball, hugging his legs, a heavy sigh—almost a groan—escaping as he frowned.
"That was a dream… huh," he whispered, choking back tears.
His mind spun. Monika. This world. How badly he felt right now.
He wanted to throw up. Needed to. But nothing came.
"I feel sick," he whispered again, pressing a hand to his mouth.
The memory of Monika's giggling crawled back, gnawing at him.
He jolted upright, fumbling with the window. Fresh air rushed in.
The room smelled worse than he'd realized—stale, too close, suffocating. He wasn't sure if the stench was him, the room… or something else.
His body trembled, 90% of him trying to repair itself after the vivid, living dream.
Saliva slid down his chin as he hunched over the window frame.
Then he stopped. Something clicked. The room felt… off.
He stood fully, eyes scanning the ceiling.
"I could've sworn this ceiling was lighter."
A whisper cut through the silence, too close and too distant at once.
"Ian."
He spun, heart hammering. The furniture shifted. Shadows danced in impossible angles.
The next moment, the world shifted. He wasn't in his room.
The street stretched before him, dark, pressing in from all sides. Darkness like a living tide, ready to swallow him.
The ground trembled beneath him, and the void ahead seemed to pulse with hunger.
"Ian."
He screamed. No sound came. He opened his mouth again, and still—nothing.
Then light, and two pairs of familiar eyes stared back. Ryn and Charlotte.
Daylight now. The hum of the city replaced the oppressive quiet. Carriages clattered in the distance.
"Ian."
"Yes!" he shouted. Relief coursed through him.
Blinking once, twice, he realized he had screamed aloud.
He sat up in his bed. The furniture was normal again. The ceiling, familiar.
Was it a trick? Someone—or something—playing with him?
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
He glanced around, chest still hammering. The line between dream and reality blurred, and a new unease settled deep inside him.
Was it all a dream?
He felt eyes on him. Heavier than ever. They had been there for a while—though he failed to notice their gaze until now.
Why?
His throat was dry. He wanted to clear it—but was too scared to even make a sound.
He was too scared to even put his feet on the floor—pulling them up and hiding under the covers.
I've slept here multiple times before. Charlotte would've noticed. He thought.
Suddenly a sense of safety washed over him.
The observer didn't seem hostile, more like a protector. But what was it protecting him from in that case?
Is Charlotte safe? Is Ryn safe?
A voice cuts through. "What are you doing under the covers?"
It was Charlotte. Ian manages to look through. Blinded by the light from the window.
It was...day? Wasn't it just nighttime? Did he fall asleep?
"Charlotte.' Ian finally said. His tone was uncertain. Almost scared.
Charlotte turned the heel. And walked toward the door. "Stop being such an idiot. Ryn wants to talk to you. Hurry."
She wasn't smiling. She actually looked annoyed for real.
Ian didn't keep Ryn waiting. Scared of Charlotte's sudden change of character, he rushed out of bed into the main part of the building.
Ryn sat in one of the lobby couches. His legs crossed—reading in some language Ian didn't understand.
"Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting." Ian said.
Ian was too scared to admit about last night. His heart pounding harder everytime he thinks of what happened. Even more so as he thought of the voice that called out to him. Again.
Ryn looked up from the paper. "Ah, Ian. No worries." He stood up infront of Ian.
"I'm here to discuss something with you. It's important." He continued.
Ian could see the seriousness in Ryn's face and body language. His smile vanishing as he put on a more serious mask.
"Alright, what is it?" Her repied with a catious yet interested tone.
Ian and Ryn made eye contact.
Ryn spoke after an intense silence. Charlotte was watching from the side lines like usual. "I want you to use magic."
Ian looked a little stunned. "Magic? Why?"
Ryn shook his head."It's a command." Ryn replied, he clearly wasn't messing around.
Charlotte brought up some kind of device from her pocket. It looked like it was some kind of scanner.
"Shoot a fireball." Ryn said firmly.
Ian raised his hand. "Fireball!" He shouted.
Nothing. Like usual.
"Hm...one morec time." Ryn looked at Charlotte.
"Alright. Fireball!" Ian shouted once again. But yet nothing happened.
The room was quiet. No one dared to speak. At least not Ian. He felt like he was getting judged in silence.
Looking between Charlotte and Ryn made him think they were speaking ill of him through some kind of code language of some sorts.
"So? Why'd you want me to do that?" Ian finally said. His voice cutting through the heavy pressure.
They both looked a little disappointed as they turned to him.
Charlotte approached after putting the object in her pocket once again.
They didn't say anything for a while. Simply looking at Ian as if...pitiying him?
Charlotte finally spoke. "It's useless."
"What's useless?" Ian replied, the confusion still clear in his eyes.
Ryn spoke as well. "Ian, im not sure how to say this. But, you can't use magic."
Ian looked at him as if he was playing some sick joke. Why wouldn't he be able to use magic?
But after seeing Ryn's serious expression he looked to the floor. As if it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"It can't be true...let me try again..." Finally escaped his mouth.
"This can't be it."
He was expecting some snarky comment from Charlotte as he heard her begin to speak.
"I didn't sense any mana coming from you from the moment I met you." Her words cut deep.
Ian looked up. "Oh well." He forced a smile. "At least i got you two...right?"
Ryn and Charlotte looked at eachother, before looking back at Ian—nodding on unison.
If this really isn't a dream…
Then who—or what—brought me here?
No.
Why did it bring me here?
He swallowed.
I have no skills for this place.
No.
I'm not worthy of a second chance.