Being a two-world traveler is great and all, but I've come to realize something important.
I'm the only one who can do this.
No, seriously. I've searched Atheria high and low. I even asked a suspiciously handsome elf librarian if he knew of any "dimensional travelers," and he just gave me a weird look and offered a book on herbal medicine.
…Not helpful, but I appreciated the effort.
See, at first I assumed this whole "magical bracelet that lets you hop worlds and stop time" thing was part of some grand fantasy trope—you know, chosen one, ancient prophecy, maybe a kingdom in peril that needs my help.
Nope.
Just me.
Apparently, the portal I stepped into that day was a one-time cosmic glitch or something. The bracelet? Somehow attuned to me alone. I even tried putting it on a cat once. The cat disappeared for two seconds, came back with a fish skeleton, then bit me and refused to cooperate any further.
So yeah. Solo hopper status confirmed.
At first, I was a bit disappointed. I mean, no magical academy? No secret organization recruiting me? No rival travelers to dramatically clash with?
But then I realized...
I don't have to share any of this.
No competition. No interference. No oversight. Just me, my bracelet, and a pair of interdimensional sneakers.
You have no idea how much fun that is.
Want to visit Atheria for a few hours to sell bath bombs and pretend to be a mystical healer? Done. Want to freeze time on Earth so I can finish my homework, take a nap, and still show up early to school? Also done.
My life is peak efficiency.
Also, extremely weird.
Take yesterday for example.
I was relaxing in Atheria, sipping herbal tea and lounging in the private bathhouse I built with proceeds from selling "earthly miracle salves" (read: basic aloe vera). The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the townsfolk were singing praises about "Lady Rika the Gentle Sorceress."
Then, a knock on my door.
"Lady Rika, a noble from the capital has requested your audience."
Uh-oh.
Turns out, word about my "healing miracles," "unbreakable containers," and "tiny metal music boxes that play songs without a bard" (a.k.a. solar-powered phone speakers) reached the royal capital. And now, someone important was coming to see me.
Naturally, I did what any responsible adult would do.
I froze time and fled.
Back to Earth I went, where the only nobles I had to deal with were the powdered sugar kind at the bakery.
After a guilt-filled croissant, I thought things through. If I keep drawing attention, some overly curious wizard or power-hungry noble will definitely try to kidnap me. Or dissect me. Or marry me off to some fifteen-year-old duke with a ponytail.
So I came up with The Reika Plan™.
Step 1: Create a mysterious persona. Lady Rika will now appear only during the full moon (unless I'm bored). She will wear an enchanted cloak (read: a hoodie with shiny buttons) and speak in vague riddles.
Step 2: Stop introducing shampoo as "magical hair elixir." From now on, it's just "rare alchemical tonic." Sounds less... impossible.
Step 3: Build a dummy shrine outside town. Say I receive visions from it. That way, I can "leave town to meditate" whenever I need to return to Earth for exams or snacks.
Step 4: NEVER give away the time-stopping part. That's a secret even Atheria doesn't need to know about.
The plan worked beautifully.
I resumed shop duty last night during a full moon (for thematic consistency) and sold a dozen jars of petroleum jelly labeled "Dragon-Skin Polish." Everyone was very impressed. Someone cried.
Then the mayor's wife asked if I could bless her cow. I told her I needed to "consult the veil between realms."
(Translation: I had school in the morning and wanted to eat potato chips while watching anime.)
Back on Earth, I was brushing my teeth when it really hit me.
"I'm literally living a double life," I muttered, toothpaste dripping down my chin. "Like a spy. Or a magical CEO."
But unlike those overworked fantasy heroines in light novels, I had complete control. No boss. No enemies. Just freedom, opportunity... and maybe some loneliness.
I mean, don't get me wrong. I like being alone. But sometimes I wonder... is there really no one else out there like me?
Because being special is great.
But being understood?
That might be even better.