Finally, Anya seeks Professor Steve's permission for her pet, me, to attend class. She claims I possess remarkable intelligence and learning abilities. He challenges me, demanding I point to the scientist who discovered gravity. Steve, with an air of supreme confidence, evident in his expression and the glint behind his rimless spectacles, bald head, and neatly trimmed beard, exudes unparalleled cunning.
"Let's see if you can pick the right one," he sneers, arms crossed, oblivious to the students swarming around, especially the girls captivated by my charm. Oddly, they pat my rear instead of my head.
Besides the sixteen iPhone model frames meticulously aligned on the wall, numerous scientist portraits hang haphazardly, lacking any discernible pattern. Naturally, I recognize them all: Albert Einstein, Galileo Galilei, Thomas Alva Edison... Ah! There he is... Sir Isaac Newton, the discoverer of gravity.
I leap from the desk, darting towards the black-and-white oil painting of a stern-faced, middle-aged man with ramen-noodle curls. My heightened sense of smell detects a faint oil paint scent emanating from the portrait, suggesting its authenticity or a replica from a bygone era in my past world.
"Look, his butt is so cute," a high-pitched voice exclaims, her face flushed with delight.
"He has magic powers, too! I remember now, he's the one who can cast that clone spell," another girl adds, making me blush and grin uncontrollably.
"He understands us! Look, he's smiling so big! Adorable!"
My answers prompt Professor Steve to pose a few more questions, ensuring they are not mere coincidence. Believe me, not a word escapes my lips. A thrill courses through the entire class. They fall for me effortlessly, to the point where the middle-aged-to-elderly man surrenders with a broad smile, gesturing me to the honored seat upon the teacher's desk, to partake in the lesson. Of course, this subject is akin to fantastical lore for these wizards, no different from the wish-fulfillment novels of my world, where magic is but a figment. Here, they speak of computers, mobile phones, satellites, even AI technology that births new creations. Yet, there is debate: does AI truly create anew, or merely blend the world's collective works into a fresh facade? An ethical quagmire, indeed. In my world, such discussions ignite heated social media storms.
As I listen, I observe the other students nodding off. Anya, however, remains intently focused, her eyes sparkling with comprehension.
"Yawn..." Familiarity breeds drowsiness, and I succumb to an abrupt wave of sleepiness. I sprawl upon the teacher's desk, my eyelids growing heavy, as my consciousness slips into the realm of slumber.
.....
Within the dream,
I stand amidst a void of utter darkness, unable to see even my own fingertips. Yet, observing my body's movements, it seems I have returned to a human form, no longer a corgi.
But... where am I?
"Greetings, Tom," a voice echoes into my mind, startling me. The voice, indistinguishable as male or female, layers itself in a strange, unidentifiable way, creating a sense of bewilderment until the next sentence clarifies. "How was being a dog? Philosopher mentioned you were expelled. What did you do to displease him?"
"Who are you? Knowing Phila like this, are you the system's creator?" I ask, while something screams in my mind not to trust this person. Damn it, my instincts are especially sharp lately. I take a step back, yet another part of me is consumed by curiosity. Questions flood my mind, an overwhelming torrent impossible to organize.
"A correct guess. Well? Never imagined meeting me so soon, did you?" the other party says, their mocking smile vivid in my imagination.
"Not at all. I've only been here a few days... it's... quite something," I say truthfully. "How is the world over there?"
The system creator falls silent for a moment, then hundreds of images surge into my brain, like a film played at maximum speed. I watch those images, memorizing every detail.
The vision of my young wife at my funeral, weeping for the Ferrari-driving tycoon, while my parents watch with eyes of bitter vengeance, plays out. In truth, my wife—no, my former wife—sneers, forcing tears to stream down her cheeks. A performance so flawless, none of the mourners perceive the deception, save my mother. She lunges, yanking at the ex-daughter-in-law's hair with such force that clumps tear from her scalp, held in trembling, withered hands, a furious inferno of rage. Knees buckle to the ground, warm tears tracing down my face as I witness the droplets on my mother's cheek.
It is my fault, bringing that woman into our home, despite all warnings. My stubbornness, then, becomes a double-edged sword, turning upon myself.
The images dissolve into blackness once more.
"You see, don't you, what happens after your death? In the end, your mother is imprisoned for assault. Your ex-wife's lover is a politician's son, no less. Your status now is less than dust." The System Creator mocks again. This time, rage ignites, compelling me to strike, to send his face reeling, forgetting my blindness. "Calm yourself. Allowing anger to consume you is unwise. You exist now in a realm separate from your past life. And I tell you now, I cannot send you back."
"What are you implying?"
"I am telling you to move on."
"Easy for you to say. Trapped in a dog's body, it is hardly convenient." I grind my teeth.
"Yet, better than a human's, I daresay." The Creator states. "Know this: I have sent souls here many times. You are the first to wield magic."
"Cease your evasions. Do you comprehend the depth of my desire for vengeance?" I bare my teeth, a threat.
"Oh, how fearsome, like a dog indeed. You seem to acclimate to your canine form. Why, if you had a social media account in that world, you would surely garner millions of followers."
Before I can retort, something clamps over my mouth, sealing it shut.
"I tire of your emotional outbursts. It is perhaps too soon for our encounter." The Creator's voice, laced with disappointment, precedes a snap of fingers.
Snap!
....
"Nappo...Hey, wake up! It is late!" Anya's voice pierces through, dragging me back to reality. My eyelids lift, the sudden light causing my body to reboot. Anya's beautiful face looms above, her expression weary beyond a single class period. Her black hair, streaked with pink, is disheveled, as if ravaged by a tempest.
"Ah... Anya... Yawwn!!" Do I slip into slumber just now?
Does this mean the previous events are merely a dream?
"Let's proceed to the next class."
"What nonsense you speak. Professor Steve's class concludes long ago. He entrusts me with your absence, and I attend two more classes until the end of the day." She utters with a smile, though upon closer inspection, her black cloak bears a slight stain.
"Quite the rough adventure, it seems." I return her smile.
"Sentient magical creatures are a rarity in Caronia." Professor Steve, seated amidst student assignments, speaks in a low, even tone. His eyes, behind the enchanting lenses of his spectacles, gaze upon the work before him with ease. He removes his glasses, placing them upon the students' papers. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Nappo. Be good to Anya. It seems you enjoy my class today. May it always be so."
His gaze lingers upon me, as if to convey some unspoken message, yet its meaning is hard for me to decipher.
.........
The sun gradually descends from the sky into the vast, dark sea, awaiting its resurgence above the waters on the morrow. The twilight sky, a blend of violet-blue hues transitioning into crimson, resembles a painting. The surrounding air is neither too warm nor too cold. The courtyard teems with first-year students mingling with upperclassmen, all drawn to various clubs: broomstick riding, potion brewing, spell casting, extra-dimensional mathematics, and even a dormitory return club, the purpose of which I cannot fathom.
Anya employs the levitation charm learned in today's spell class, the very reason for her cloak's stain, as she eschews the exertion of carrying her belongings. I, of course, being unversed in this charm, am of no assistance.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but the levitation charm's incantation is 'Eionna.' Try it." Anya places a hefty tome upon the ground. I rehearse the incantation a few times before brandishing my wand and uttering the words clearly.
"Eionna!"
.
.
.
Silence...
"Why?" My jaw drops, and my wand slips from my grasp.
"Never mind. The levitation charm is quite difficult. It took me hours to master it." She raises her wand and chants, "Eionna!"
The thick book defies gravity, floating into her hand.
"Are you overburdened today? All your belongings are in that ring-pouch." I remark, nudging her shin playfully with my foot. Abruptly, my nail snags her stocking, tearing it. Anya lightly taps my head.
"Indeed, today is rather taxing. Well, problem solved. Let us retire to the dormitory for some well-deserved rest!" The girl, relieved by the strangely swift resolution, now makes her way towards the destination indicated by a sign, leading to a towering dormitory that seems to pierce the very sky.
My mouth and Anya's hang open. She lifts the envelope, her eyes scanning the words.
"Room 704..." she utters, her voice trembling, her body vibrating with a sudden pressure. "That means..."
"Seventieth floor, room four, then...?"
I ask, my own voice a hushed echo of her disbelief.
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To Be Continue Ep.6