Scene 1 – Waking Up is Hard When You Don't Have Bones
The world was warm. Too warm. And also… folded?
Rein wriggled, muffled under layers of something soft and constricting. His arms—at least he thought they were arms—wouldn't move the right way. Panic sparked."Mira! I think my limbs are broken!"
From across the room came a groggy groan. "They're not broken, Rein. You just wrapped yourself up like a cocoon again."
"Cocoon?" he repeated, struggling harder. "So I'm turning into a butterfly?!"
"Blanket, Rein! It's a blanket!"
The soft mass collapsed as Mira tugged the covers off him. Light spilled across her small wooden room—morning sunlight cutting through a dusty window. Shelves lined with prayer scrolls and alchemy jars framed the cozy chaos of the temple home.
Rein blinked at his own limbs. Skin. Veins. Fingers. So many joints.
"Why are my arms… divided?!" He poked his elbow, then his wrist. "They bend like broken twigs!"
Mira sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Those are elbows and wrists. Humans need them."
"That's disgusting."
He lifted his hand up to the sunlight, marveling at how light passed through his fingers. Then his stomach growled—a deep, feral rumble that made his new body jolt.
He froze. "Am I… digesting myself?!"
Mira, now used to this kind of morning, simply replied, "No, Rein. That's hunger. Humans eat food, remember?"
"Oh. Right. Food." He frowned. "Wait, I am food."
Mira closed her eyes for patience. "Rein. Don't."
But it was too late. Rein spotted a loaf of bread on the counter. He leaned forward, pressed it to his cheek, and concentrated. His old instinct kicked in. Absorb. Break down. Convert.
…Nothing happened.
The bread didn't melt. It just left crumbs on his face. He blinked, baffled. "It's defective!"
Mira's shoulders shook as she tried not to laugh. "You're supposed to chew it, not phase it into your bloodstream."
Rein sniffed the bread, then took a big bite. His eyes went wide. "It's like soft gravel!"
"That's toast. Congratulations," she said dryly. "You're officially not dead."
He swallowed, coughed, and patted his throat. "I can't believe eating takes this much effort! My old body did this automatically!"
"You mean your slime body." Mira crossed her arms. "Welcome to humanity. It's ninety percent confusion and forty percent hunger."
By midmorning, Mira had decided Rein needed "basic living lessons." She had drastically underestimated what that would entail. (Art of Wa- NOT EATING EVERYTHING)
"Alright," she said, setting a folded robe on the counter. "Step one: clothes go on the body, not in the body."
Rein tilted his head. "That's… subjective, isn't it?"
"No!"
Within the next half hour, she'd stopped him from trying to "taste-test" soap ("It smells clean, therefore edible!"), drink bathwater ("It sparkles!"), and use the broom as a "mobility staff."
He discovered soap bubbles soon after.
"Oh, these are amazing! They're like air magic you can see!" He blew into the water, delighted as shimmering bubbles filled the room. "Mira! Look! I'm producing artifacts!"
"Those aren't—" Mira started, but then he started inhaling them. "Rein!"
"They taste like mana-flavored air!"
"Spit them out!"
"I can't! They're evaporating too fast!"
It was all downhill from there.
While Mira scrubbed her priest robes in the basin, Rein wandered closer, eyes gleaming. "What's that shiny paper thing?"
"This?" She lifted a small talisman card stitched inside the robe's hem. "It's a 'Cleanse Fabric [E]'—an enchantment card that keeps priest robes spotless. Very useful for temple work. Don't touch—"
He'd already touched it.
Then sniffed it.
Then, with catastrophic curiosity, licked it.
And because his body's instincts still followed the laws of slime physics, the card instantly dissolved into glowing threads that zipped into his mouth.
There was a pop. Then a poof.
Then the entire room exploded with white, fragrant foam.
"REIN!!!" Mira shrieked, half-buried in bubbles.
"I CAST A SPELL!" Rein cheered, arms raised triumphantly as suds cascaded down his hair. "By accident!"
Outside, passing villagers slowed as soapy clouds spilled from the temple doorway. Children pointed and giggled.
Inside, Mira fought to find her footing. "Do you realize what you've done?! That was a blessed card! Do you have any idea how rare—"
"—I can taste lavender now!" Rein interrupted proudly.
Mira grabbed a mop and began pushing foam toward the exit. "You're banned from laundry duty for life."
"Does this mean I passed the test?"
"You failed it so hard I might have to invent a new failure scale."
By the time the chaos ended, the floor gleamed like new, the air smelled heavenly, and Rein sat proudly in a puddle, still producing bubbles from his hair.
Hours later, Mira sat Rein down at the dining table, rubbing her temples. "Alright. Let's check your mana flow."
Rein was too busy blowing stray bubbles from his hands. "Sure. Do I sparkle?"
"Stay still." She closed her eyes and placed her hand against his chest. Her priestess sigil glowed faintly as she focused on sensing his internal mana flow.
What she found made her eyes snap open.
"...No way."
"Is it bad? Am I going to explode?"
"You absorbed the card," she murmured, stunned. "Not the spell—the card itself."
Rein blinked. "So I'm full of laundry magic?"
Mira looked up, torn between disbelief and exasperation. "No. You integrated it. The card's magical structure merged into your mana circuit. It's like… you digested it and made it yours."
"Nice! Does that make me clean forever?"
"Rein, this isn't funny." Her expression tightened. "Bonded users can link to cards, yes, but they can't absorb them. The card core dissolves into mana waste. You—"
She stopped as faint light shimmered under his skin. A tiny rune—identical to the Cleanse Fabric sigil—flickered on his forearm before fading.
Rein sneezed. A soap bubble popped out.
"…You've got to be kidding me," she whispered.
"Maybe I'm part washing machine (hehe, there's a naturally generated card that summons a washing machine used by mana)?" Rein offered.
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, Rein. You're something worse. There's an old myth—something the Church used to fear. A 'Card Eater.' A being that could consume sorcery cards and turn them into living essence."
Rein blinked, unbothered. "Sounds cool. Was it handsome?"
"It destroyed three kingdoms."
"Oh." He paused, then added hopefully, "Maybe I'm the friendly version?"
Mira wasn't convinced. But as she looked at his bright, curious grin—soap bubble forming on his nose—she sighed. He didn't feel like a monster. Just… chaos in human form.
By sunset, the temple smelled faintly of lemon soap and existential dread.
A sharp knock echoed at the door. Mira opened it to find a tall man in polished armor and a perfectly waxed mustache. His guild insignia gleamed on his chestplate.
"Priestess Mira," he said formally. "I am Officer Galren, Adventurer's Guild Inspector. We've detected mana fluctuations near this village—specifically, Card Energy residue. Has anything… unusual occurred?"
Behind her, a faint "hic" noise sounded. Mira slowly turned.
Rein stood in the doorway, halfway through biting a decorative candle.
He froze. "Oh. Hello."
Galren frowned. "...Who is this?"
"My—uh—assistant," Mira said quickly. "He's… new."
"I might've eaten something glowy last night," Rein blurted cheerfully. "Does that count as unusual?"
Mira felt her soul leave her body. "REIN."
The inspector's eyes narrowed. "You ate something that glowed?"
Mira jumped in front of him. "He's joking! He has a condition! He—he gets confused easily!"
Rein smiled and waved. A soap bubble floated out of his sleeve.
Galren's eyebrow twitched. "Right. Well. If you see anything suspicious, report it to the Guild immediately. There may be a forming Cardion nearby. We can't afford magical contamination spreading."
"Of course," Mira said sweetly. "We'll stay alert."
As soon as the door closed, she turned on Rein. "You almost got us arrested!"
He tilted his head. "For honesty?"
"For insanity!"
Rein crossed his arms, pouting. "Humans sure have a lot of rules for what you can or can't eat."
"Because normal people don't devour metaphysical artifacts, Rein!"
"Then what do they eat?"
"...Bread."
He looked disappointed. "So boring."
Night settled over the temple. Candlelight flickered softly as Mira sat on the bed, tending to Rein's bandaged hands.
He winced. "It burns!"
"That's because you tried to 'cast' soap magic with your bare hands," she said. "You're lucky it only stung."
Rein smiled sheepishly. "Thanks for fixing me up. Again."
Mira glanced away. "Don't thank me. Just… stop eating things that glow. Please."
He laughed quietly. "I'll try not to eat anything shiny tomorrow."
"…That's not comforting."
"I mean it. You saved me, Mira. And you didn't throw me out, even after I nearly turned your home into a bubble bath."
She hesitated, then smiled softly. "You're impossible, Rein. But… you're my impossible problem now."
Silence settled between them—warm and awkward in a strangely peaceful way.
Then came a crunch.
Mira's eye twitched. "Rein."
He froze mid-bite, something metallic glinting between his lips.
"…What did you just eat?"
He swallowed nervously. "…Your hair clip. It sparkled."
The scream that followed could be heard three villages away.