Adrian Klutz had always believed that Monday mornings were a cosmic conspiracy designed specifically to ruin his life. Today, the universe seemed determined to prove him right with unprecedented enthusiasm.
His alarm clock, a reliable digital companion for three years, chose this particular morning to stage a rebellion. Instead of its usual ear-piercing shriek at 6:30 AM, it decided to display the time in what appeared to be ancient hieroglyphics before giving up entirely and showing nothing but a blank screen that somehow managed to look smug.
"Oh, come on," Adrian groaned, squinting at his phone through sleep-crusted eyes. 7:45 AM. He was supposed to be at work in fifteen minutes, and his workplace was a twenty-minute bus ride away—assuming the bus operated on the same physics as the rest of reality, which recent experience suggested it did not.
Adrian launched himself out of bed with all the grace of a caffeinated giraffe, immediately stubbing his toe on the corner of his dresser. The same dresser corner he'd been stubbing his toe on for six months, because apparently his spatial awareness had all the consistency of budget airline scheduling.
"Right, shower," he muttered, hopping toward the bathroom on one foot. "Quick shower, and then—"
The hot water lasted exactly thirty seconds before transforming into liquid ice from the ninth circle of hell. Adrian's resulting shriek could have summoned demons, if demons were attracted to sounds of pure, unadulterated despair.
Wet, cold, and running on approximately three hours of sleep, Adrian attempted to make breakfast. This was his first critical error of the day. Toast, he reasoned, was foolproof. Bread plus toaster equals edible food item. Simple mathematics.
The toaster, evidently in league with the alarm clock, transformed his bread into what could charitably be described as charcoal sculptures. The smoke alarm celebrated this achievement with an enthusiastic screech that made his earlier shower-shriek sound like a gentle lullaby.
"I don't have time for this," Adrian declared to his kitchen, as if the appliances might suddenly develop sympathy. He grabbed the least carbonized piece of toast and headed for his bedroom to get dressed.
This was his second critical error.
In his haste, Adrian grabbed the first shirt he could find and threw it on without looking. Only when he caught his reflection in the hallway mirror did he realize he'd somehow managed to put his shirt on inside-out, backwards, and possibly upside-down. The laws of topology suggested this should be impossible, but Adrian had always been an overachiever when it came to defying logic.
"Time is a social construct," he told his reflection while attempting to correct the shirt situation. "Punctuality is just society's way of oppressing free spirits."
His reflection looked skeptical.
The shirt correction process revealed that he'd also grabbed two completely different socks: one black dress sock and one bright green athletic sock with tiny tacos printed on it. The tacos seemed to be mocking him.
"This is fine," Adrian said firmly. "This is a perfectly normal start to a perfectly normal day."
The universe, overhearing this statement, apparently decided to take it as a challenge.
Adrian's sprint to the bus stop would have been impressive if it had been intentional. Unfortunately, it was more accurately described as a series of controlled falls in the same general direction, punctuated by near-collisions with fire hydrants, confused pigeons, and one very judgmental-looking cat who seemed personally offended by Adrian's existence.
He rounded the corner just in time to see his bus pulling away from the stop, its exhaust fumes forming what looked suspiciously like a middle finger in the morning air.
"Perfect," Adrian panted, checking his phone. 8:15 AM. He was officially late for work, disheveled, wearing mismatched socks, and had somehow managed to put his wallet in his pocket upside-down, so his credit cards were now scattered across three blocks of sidewalk.
As he scrambled to collect his fallen cards, Adrian noticed commotion ahead. A crowd had gathered outside the imposing gates of what looked like the world's most expensive private school. The building rose into the morning sky like something from a fantasy novel, all towers and archways and architectural details that seemed to shift slightly when he wasn't looking directly at them.
In the center of the crowd, a man in elaborate robes was making concerning choking sounds.
Adrian's customer service training from his retail job kicked in automatically. When someone appears to be in distress, you help them. It was basic human decency, even if Adrian's track record with basic human activities was questionable at best.
"Excuse me, excuse me," Adrian called, pushing through the gathered crowd. "I know first aid!"
This was technically true. Adrian had taken a CPR class three years ago after his mother had insisted that "basic life skills" might prevent him from accidentally killing someone someday. He'd received a certificate, which he was reasonably certain qualified him for... something.
The choking man was tall, distinguished-looking, and wearing robes that seemed to be made from actual starlight. His beard was long and silver, and even while choking, he managed to look more dignified than Adrian had ever looked in his entire life. The man's eyes were wide with panic, and he was making increasingly desperate gestures at his throat.
"It's okay, I've got this," Adrian said with confidence he absolutely did not feel. "Just lean forward a bit."
Adrian positioned himself behind the man and began the Heimlich maneuver, trying to remember the exact technique from his class. Was it five thrusts? Seven? Was he supposed to angle upward or straight in?
"Come on," Adrian muttered, applying pressure. "Come on, work with me here."
On his fourth attempt, something small and brown went flying from the man's mouth, arcing through the air and landing somewhere in the crowd. The man immediately began gasping and coughing, color returning to his face.
"Thank you," the man wheezed, his voice carrying an odd accent that seemed to shift between British, Irish, and something that might have been ancient Latin. "Thank you so much. I thought I was... that pretzel was going to be the end of me."
"No problem," Adrian said, stepping back and brushing off his hands. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down or anything?"
The man straightened up, and Adrian realized he was quite a bit taller than he'd initially appeared. The morning sunlight seemed to bend around him in subtle ways, and his robes rippled in a breeze that Adrian couldn't feel.
"I am perfectly well, thanks to you, young man," the stranger said, his voice growing stronger. "Might I ask your name?"
"Adrian," Adrian replied automatically. "Adrian Klutz. And honestly, it was nothing. Anyone would have done the same thing."
"Adrian Klutz," the man repeated thoughtfully, as if testing the name. "How wonderfully modest."
Around them, the crowd was beginning to murmur and point. Several people had their phones out, taking pictures and videos. Adrian suddenly felt very self-conscious about his inside-out shirt and taco socks.
"I should probably get going," Adrian said, glancing at his phone. 8:25 AM. He was now so late for work that he might actually be early for tomorrow. "I'm late for—"
"Nonsense," the man said firmly. "You have just performed a great service. The least I can do is ensure you're properly recognized for your heroism."
"Heroism?" Adrian laughed nervously. "I just helped someone who was choking. It's not exactly saving the world."
The man's eyes twinkled with something that might have been amusement. "Young Adrian, you have no idea how significant your actions may prove to be."
Before Adrian could ask what that meant, several people in official-looking uniforms came rushing through the crowd. They wore badges that seemed to shimmer with their own light, and their equipment looked like medical gear designed by someone who had only heard vague descriptions of actual medical gear.
"Archmage Eldarius!" one of them called out. "We received the emergency alert! Are you injured? Do you require healing?"
"Archmage?" Adrian repeated faintly.
"I am quite well, thanks to this young hero," Eldarius said, placing a hand on Adrian's shoulder. The touch felt warm, and Adrian could swear he heard something like distant thunder. "Adrian Klutz, meet the Magical Emergency Response Team. They're here to file the incident report."
"Magical?" Adrian's voice cracked slightly.
"Standard procedure for any incident involving a registered magical person," one of the responders explained, pulling out what looked like a clipboard made of crystal. "We'll need some basic information from both parties."
Adrian stared at the crystal clipboard, which was apparently displaying text that rearranged itself as he watched. "I'm sorry, did you say magical?"
"Oh, my dear boy," Eldarius chuckled. "Did I not mention? I'm the Archmage of the Continental Magical Alliance. I was just finishing my breakfast before the morning session of the Interdimensional Council when that pretzel proved more formidable than most dark wizards."
Adrian's brain, already running on minimal sleep and maximum confusion, decided this was an excellent time to stop processing new information entirely.
"Magical," he repeated numbly.
"Quite so," Eldarius confirmed cheerfully. "And you, my heroic friend, have just saved the life of one of the most powerful mages in the known realms. The paperwork alone will be extraordinary."
As if summoned by the mention of paperwork, more official-looking people began arriving. Some wore robes, others wore suits, and a few wore what appeared to be uniforms made from dragon scales. All of them seemed very excited about forms.
Adrian looked down at his mismatched socks, his inside-out shirt, and his general state of Monday morning disaster.
"This is fine," he whispered to himself. "This is just a very vivid stress-induced hallucination caused by being late for work."
Eldarius heard him and smiled. "Oh, I'm afraid it's quite real, young Adrian. But don't worry—heroism has excellent health benefits."
And that was how Adrian Klutz learned that magic was real, that he had apparently just performed his first heroic deed, and that the universe's sense of humor was far more twisted than he had ever imagined.
The paperwork was going to be tremendous.