The raven was released into the sky—and in a single, fluid motion, it vanished, swallowed by the horizon as though it had never existed at all.
Moments later, William arrived at Tracy's house. The evening air was calm, carrying a faint warmth as he approached the door. Jake, not far behind, was just about to arrive. William stepped inside and greeted Tracy, handing her a small box of chocolates—the kind she had always loved.
Her eyes lit up instantly. She unwrapped one without hesitation and took a bite, savoring the familiar sweetness.
At that exact moment, the door opened again.
Jake stepped in.
He paused for a second, clearly a little nervous. His posture was stiff, his gaze uncertain, but he managed to muster a polite smile.
"Hello, William… how are you? I hope you're doing well."
His voice was slightly awkward, as though the words had been rehearsed but never quite perfected. Jake had never been much of a talker, and greetings, especially formal ones, didn't come naturally to him.
William raised a brow, mildly surprised, but smiled nonetheless."I'm good. What about you? And… how do you know my name?"
Jake shifted his weight, scratching the back of his head."Well… when Tracy was convincing me to come here, she told me your name."
The moment the words left his mouth, Tracy froze.
Ah… great.
Inside her mind, panic sparked instantly. Jake is going to ruin my image in front of William… I told him Jake would come whenever I called him. And now he's saying I had to convince him?
She could practically feel her carefully crafted "cool" persona crumbling to dust.
William, however, seemed unfazed.
"Well then, Jake," he said casually, "do you know why we're having this meeting?"
Jake nodded slightly."Not exactly, but from what I remember, Tracy said you need help with writing your novel… am I right?"
Before William could respond, Michael spoke instead, his tone thoughtful but slightly uncertain."Umm… not exactly like that. I've just finished writing Volume One of my novel, and right now… I don't know any publisher who could actually publish it."
Jake's expression shifted, becoming more attentive."I see. Well… I can help you talk to the publisher who helps me publish my work, but—"
"But what?" William cut in quickly, his curiosity piqued.
Jake sighed, a faint hint of annoyance crossing his face."Bro, let me finish first."
There was a brief pause before he continued.
"There are certain criteria you need to fulfill if you want that publisher to consider your work."
"And what are they?" William asked.
Jake folded his arms, thinking for a moment."First, you'll have to send him your novel. He'll read it, review it… and if he finds it interesting—something unique—then he might agree to publish it."
William nodded, absorbing the information."Alright. Then you can just take my novel and give it to him, right?"
Jake shook his head immediately."It doesn't work like that." He pulled out his phone and handed it over. "Here—take his number. Call him yourself. Ask for a meeting, and make sure you mention that I suggested you. That way, you'll definitely get a chance to present your story."
He paused, his tone growing slightly more serious.
"But make sure you don't waste even a second of his time."
William gave a firm nod."Got it."
With the tension eased and the discussion settled for now, the atmosphere gradually lightened. Soon enough, the three of them found themselves sitting together, controllers in hand, completely absorbed in a game on the PS5—laughter and competitive banter filling the room.
Elsewhere, something was… wrong.
Michael stood alone, his movements erratic. He swung his hands through the air as though grasping at something invisible, his expression distant, unfocused.
Then—
Boom.
He vanished.
Not a trace remained. No sound, no warning. Just… absence.
No one was there to witness it. No one to question where he had gone.
The scene shifted.
Michael lay flat on the ground beneath a bright, open sky. Sunlight spilled over him, warm yet unfamiliar. The air smelled different—cleaner, untouched.
His eyes fluttered open slowly.
"Where… am I…?" he murmured, disoriented.
Before he could gather his thoughts, a girl approached him. Her name was Ella.
She spoke to him, her voice gentle yet cautious—but the words made no sense to him. The language was entirely unfamiliar.
Michael blinked in confusion.
"Wait… what?"
Ella frowned slightly, realizing he didn't understand. Without another word, she turned and hurried away, soon returning with her parents.
They exchanged concerned glances, assuming he was injured. Carefully, they lifted him and carried him to their home.
It was unlike anything Michael had ever seen.
The structure, the materials, the very atmosphere—it all resembled something out of a medieval era. No modern design. No technology. Just raw, old-world craftsmanship.
Michael looked around, bewildered.
"Hey… who are you all? And where am I?"
Ella said nothing.
Not because she didn't want to—but because she simply couldn't understand him.
She turned to her father, calling for him. The man approached, his gaze sharp and observant. He examined Michael briefly before raising his hand.
Then—something strange happened.
A faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air.
And suddenly—
They could understand each other.
Michael's eyes widened."Wait… how can I understand you?"
Ella smiled faintly."Well, my father graduated from the Magic Academy. He knows how to use magic."
Michael stared at her, stunned.
"Magic…?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. "Come on… you're fooling me, right? In 2026? Magic only exists in fictional stories—not in real life."
Ella didn't argue.
Instead, she raised her hand.
Within a second, a small, flickering fireball formed in her palm—its glow dancing across her face.
Michael's jaw nearly dropped.
"Bro… what is this?" he muttered. "Some kind of advanced technology? It has to be, right?"
Ella tilted her head, confused."What is 'technology'? And what do you mean by '2026'? What are those things?"
Her questions hung in the air, unanswered.
For the first time, doubt crept into Michael's mind.
This… didn't feel like a trick.
Still dazed, he tried to sit up, pushing himself slightly off the bed they had placed him on.
But before he could move any further, Ella gently stopped him.
"You're injured," she said softly. "You should rest."
Michael hesitated… then slowly lay back down.
Fine, he thought. I'll wait.
His eyes shifted toward the window, where the unfamiliar world stretched beyond.
I'll wait until they're asleep… and then I'll find out what's really going on.