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Frustrated by his sister’s over-the-top yet sloppy nature, Joyce folded the map and shoved it back into his pocket. Instead, he pulled out his smartphone.

“Okay, where is this ‘Private Horizon School’…” he muttered, tapping at the screen.

For the record, his sister was currently on a business trip in Algeria, leaving Joyce as the reigning king of their apartment. Before that, she’d been stationed in Cyprus… or was it Sudan? Maybe Northern Ireland? Sierra Leone? Afghanistan? The list went on—and most of the names Joyce hadn’t even heard of before.

She was hardly ever home, and Joyce had long since gotten used to living by himself. He could handle it fine… though, admittedly, moving to a new school was a rare disruption, even for him.

Still, Joyce often found himself wondering just what kind of job she really had. After their parents died, she’d raised him on her own, and he was forever grateful. But anytime he asked about her work, she shut down like a locked vault. It was… suspicious, to say the least.

Maybe it was the daydreaming—or maybe just karma—but the moment he rounded the corner, he collided headfirst into a girl who had been sprinting down the street. Judging by the way she hit him, she was probably just as distracted as he was.

“—Whoaaa!?”
“—Gehhh!”

Wow. That was… definitely not a cute scream, Joyce thought distantly as he crashed into her.

He caught a whiff of shampoo, felt something soft and unmistakably feminine, and then—brain overload. His toast fell from his mouth in surrender to sensory shock.

“Ouch…”

Once the stars cleared from his vision, he noticed a black-haired girl sitting on the ground—wearing the same «Private Horizon School» uniform as him.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, reaching out a hand to help her up.

“Okay?! Do I look okay?! Are your eyes decorative or what?! Don’t you know smartphones are against school policy?!”

The girl lifted her head—delicate features, petite frame, and eyes like gleaming crimson jewels. Beautiful, yes… and currently narrowed into an absolutely furious glare.

“Huh, really? My bad. It’s my first day—I haven’t heard anything about that yet.”
“Ignorance isn’t an excuse! If that worked, we wouldn’t need police! The handbook clearly says so! And I’ll say it once—being ignorant is the greatest crime!”

Her scolding turned into a full-on rant, grating on Joyce’s nerves. He resisted the urge to ball his outstretched hand into a fist.

“As I said—I’m sorry. Also… how long do you plan on flashing your ‘blue horizon’ to the world?”

The girl froze. Realizing what he meant, she flushed scarlet and quickly yanked her skirt down in a panic.

“Eeeeeeeek!!”

“Ah, now that’s a proper scream,” Joyce muttered—just before a sharp slap smacked across his cheek like a spring-loaded trap.

“You absolute idiot! Scum! Pervert! Chikuwa-man!!” She shouted with all the fury of a storm, then turned and dashed off like a startled rabbit—leaving a stunned Joyce behind, half-eaten chikuwa still dangling from his mouth.

“Ow… she’s a lot more violent than she looks,” Rubbing the cheek still stinging from that slap, Joyce muttered to himself while finishing off the last bit of chikuwa. He glanced down the street where the girl had disappeared and gave a small nod, as if confirming something.

“So that’s the way to the school, huh?” he muttered.

Letting out a sigh, he was just about to head off when something on the ground caught his eye. Beneath his half-eaten toast, something white peeked out.

Curious, he picked it up. It was a white lace handkerchief, embroidered with a red rose pattern—and the name «HIYUKI» stitched elegantly along the corner.

“Hiyuki…? Must be hers,” he guessed.

As realization set in, Joyce grimaced—fully aware this could only lead to more trouble. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to toss it, so he slipped it into his pocket.

“Well, if she’s from the same school, I’ll probably run into her again anyway,” he muttered.

With the faint red imprint of a hand still glowing on his cheek, Joyce took off toward his new school at a light jog.

◆◇◆◇

“—Holy crap, what kind of cheesy development was that?!” I blurted out.

I couldn’t stop myself from yelling, and just like that, the illusion shattered.

It had felt so vivid—so grounded in realism or whatever it was—that I’d completely slipped into the role, forgetting who I was. Now grounded again, I glanced around and found myself back where I was supposed to be: kneeling on the glowing road in the heart of the Void Mist, steadying myself with «Gilles de Rais».

“Was that really an illusion…? It didn’t feel like a memory at all.”

If that illusion had been based on my unconscious desires, that would’ve been kind of funny—but there’s no way school would’ve made the list. That place is nothing but a fever swamp of nausea-inducing memories. If anything, that was less an illusion and more a nightmare. And seriously… why was he the protagonist?!

“…Haa. Anyway, lucky I didn’t fall off the path while I was spaced out.”

Accepting that logic with a sigh, I stood up and looked ahead. To my surprise, a wooden door now stood in the exact spot where the bear had been.

It looked ordinary enough—mahogany wood, brass knob—but given the setting, a single door standing in the middle of this endless glowing path…

“Is this… an Anywhere Door?” I muttered.

It immediately reminded me of that infamous gadget from a certain time-traveling blue raccoon.

“…Yeah. This is 100% a trap.”

I wanted to avoid it—but something deep in my mind tugged at me. This was probably the only way forward in this never-ending quest. Bracing myself, I reached for the doorknob and slowly opened it.

◆◇◆◇

Beyond the door stretched a vast field, vibrant and overflowing with flowers in full bloom.

The sunlight poured gently over everything in a soft, golden hue. The air held just enough moisture, the temperature ideal—like the perfect spring afternoon. It was the kind of serene scene that made you want to just lie down and drift off.

“Another dreamlike scene… Is this an illusion again? Or have I been transported somewhere real this time?” I muttered.

I already knew what I’d find, but I turned to check anyway—unsurprisingly, the door I’d stepped through had vanished. If the glowing road through the Void Mist were still visible, I might’ve worried that taking even one more step would have dragged me back into another illusion—or worse, straight into an abyss.

Then again, for all I knew, my body was still standing back there, and only my consciousness had crossed over—just like in those cliché rom-com scenes.

As I stood at that mental crossroad, a sudden voice called out from behind, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Hey! What are you doing out here?” a young boy called.

I turned to find a boy, maybe fifteen, watching me with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“Who are you? Some kind of illusion—or a monster in disguise?” I asked bluntly.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Wait a second—you should be the one answering me!” he snapped.

The boy stepped closer, his face still filled with cautious suspicion. He wore a simple shirt, trousers, and a vest—neat, clean, and clearly not some wandering illusion.

A hunch hit me. I quickly scanned the area—and let out a resigned sigh when I confirmed it.

“Right, let me clear things up—I’m not suspicious or anything. I’m an all-rounder based in Faximile,” the boy said, raising both hands innocently.

“Faximile? You mean the Holy City of Aeon—that Faximile?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

‘All-rounder’ caught my ear, but what really struck me was what he’d just let slip. I stepped closer.

“Aeon…? Never heard of it. The holy city’s called Faximile, yeah, but the name of this country is ‘Millennium,’” the boy replied, tilting his head. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a metallic ID card, and showed it to me.

“Millennium National ID. Johnny Land. Born Holy Year 2108, age 15. B-Class citizen of Faximile. Profession: Freelance.”

“Well, everyone except the clergy are freelancers in a way.”

As I read it aloud, Johnny casually filled in the rest.

“Sacred Teachings Level F. Karma: 63 points. No special designations. …Huh. Still using the alphabet, I see.”

“Alphabet? Oh, you mean the Sacred Text? That’s the script used in sacred records—it’s mandatory learning for priests,” he explained, blinking in confusion.

“…Yeah, I think we’re not even in the same book anymore,” I muttered.

At least I understood this much: the Sacred Teachings existed here, too, and by their calendar, it was currently the year 2123. But more importantly—

“Hmm, you don’t seem like you’re from around here. A traveler? Are you lost? Let me know—my walkrider can get us to the capital,” Johnny offered helpfully.

Looks like this quest didn’t end with the door—it was only just beginning.

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