A student beside me took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the auditorium.
"Four years, man. Hard to believe it's over."
He slapped my shoulder—not hard, but it startled me anyway. I wasn't sure if the gesture was meant to comfort me or reassure himself.
The lights dimmed. Music rumbled from the speakers as the emcee took the mic. We started marching to our seats, row by row, just like we rehearsed. Everything was clockwork, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was happening around me—not to me.
I imagined my sister screaming my name. I wouldn't hear it, of course, but the thought still made me chuckle.
The principal began to speak, but his words blurred into background noise. Everyone around me whispered about their futures—
"Military—"
"Emory—"
"—University."
"—magic," the principal finished, snapping me back into the moment.
Each row was escorted to line up to the stage. Then, the principal started calling names, one by one, way too slowly.
The line inched forward until, finally, "Ji-Yeong Yong," the emcee flawlessly called.
I marched up the stage. It felt like surfacing from underwater; suddenly everything opened up, and I could hear the applause, my name echoing—more so in my head. For a moment, I felt something—pride, maybe? Or relief? I couldn't tell. I just knew it was over.
The principal handed me the diploma. "Congratulations, young man." His voice was warm, his hand firm.
I nodded, shook hands, and stepped off the stage.
As the ceremony wrapped up, I barely registered the speeches or the music. Then, in a blur, we threw our caps into the air and watched them disappear for a moment before tumbling back down around us.
Everything afterward was a rush of hugs, pictures, and endless congratulations. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the backseat of our family car, still in my gown, clutching my diploma and letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"How does it feel?" Dad asked from the driver's seat, carefully glancing over the rear mirror.
"How should it feel?" I replied honestly.
"Happy!" my sister sang from the back, already humming with joy. "School's over for you! I'm so jealous."
Chuckle. "Not over yet, I still have to finish college, you know?"
"Oh, you're right!"
"You should feel proud," my mom added, turning to smile at me. "Graduating at the top of your class, Yeong."
I nodded, but the truth was... I felt hungry. For more.
They were so sure of what this moment meant. I envied that certainty.
We decided to head home and celebrate with hotpot. That, I was sure I wanted.
The moment we stepped inside, the scent hit me. Fresh vegetables, seasoned broth, sauces laid out like paint on a palette. Home.
"I call dibs on mushrooms!" my sister shouted, grabbing scallion pancakes from the counter.
"Not if I get them first!" I replied, half-laughing.
My mom smiled, working the stove. "Ji-Yeong, I'm so proud of you." She handed me a small gift wrapped in manila paper from beneath her apron.
"What's this?"
"A little something," she said with a wink.
"Thanks, Mom," I replied, feeling a swell of gratitude as I watched her carefully arrange the ingredients.
Whatever lies ahead of me, I'm sure I at least wouldn't be alone.
As the pot began to bubble, I took a seat, the rhythmic sound of boiling water calming my racing thoughts. My dad joined us, rolling up his sleeves, ready to dive in. "You're going to love this," he said, loading his chopsticks with a handful of greens before submerging them in the pot, "And this too. A little post-secondary gift," He then handed me a rectangular box.
"Graduation and post-secondary gift," he said, "Double combo."
"Ah, you too? Thanks, Dad." I smiled at him, then abruptly turned to my sister, "Now, where's yours?" I teased.
"Wait, we were supposed to get him something?!" she gasped, clutching her head.
Laughter filled the air as I continued teasing my sister between bites before noticing I still had my gown on. "Ah, go on ahead without me, I'm just going to change real quick." I skipped to my room, intending to get more comfortable.
As I settled in my room, it felt fitting to open the gifts they had given me. I sat on the bed. The tearing of paper made me anticipate what could be inside.
The box that my mom gave me contained a gold chain necklace with a small graduation cap embedded in wood. I immediately put it on as I appreciated the thoughtfulness, eagerly checking it out on the mirror.
"Then this," I held up the gift my dad gave.
I tore the wrapping of the rectangular box, revealing a matte black package. "What could this be?"
I carefully slid over the lid, revealing a 10-inch curved, white-bladed dagger with a dark wood handle, trimmed with gold. I felt a spark in me as I recognized this as one of the legendary items in one of the games that my dad designed.
I often play as a beta tester for games that my dad designs, and this item is from one of them. "Woah," I exclaimed as an audible thunk sounded when I flicked the blade of the dagger. I remember using this to save the main heroine of the story from a goblin.
Good times.
I decided to strap it on my waist to show my dad and go back to eating for now. "This is sick," I murmured to myself.
That's when an envelope reflected the moonlight coming from my window. Curious, I took it, noticing the weight of the letter.
"Hmmm?" I tried ripping it open, but the envelope proved to be much thicker than I thought.
After opening it the right way—by actually taking the wax seal off—a small, one-page letter was unfolded.
The letter read:
Dear Ji‑Yeong Yong,
Congratulations! You've made it—welcome to Magist University! Whether Elf, Orc, Dwarf, Beastman, or Human, all are welcome!
Swing by Dean Aldora Senshi's office (Room AU30007) for registration. We can't wait to see you.
Warm regards,
Kura Ou, Admissions Officer
"Magist University?" I muttered, turning the thick letter over. "What kind of name is that? Sounds like a clown school."
"Hyung! Hurry up!" I heard my sister call for me. It was obvious that she was chewing something from the sound of her voice.
"Coming! Just a sec!" I yelled back.
At the back of the letter was an engraving with three hexagons connected to form a circular symbol with stems of vines and cracks running from end to end. At the very front is a glowing handprint.
"Wait…" lining my hand along the edges of the print, I tested it out, "That's weird. It's exactly the shape of my—"
My hand went through.
I felt the floor beneath my feet disappear.
Gravity dragged me down…and then it suddenly pulled me up. Or was it left? Or right? I don't know.
I started tumbling as if gravity itself couldn't decide what to do with me. My stomach bubbled, and immediately, I threw up the meat and mushrooms I fought my sister for.
Then, for a split second, I felt and saw nothing. I felt like nothing. The only thing suspending me with my consciousness was the sensation of my hand on crumpled, rough paper.
Then colors.
With a rush of flickering neon—purple, green, orange, streaks of gold—the air buzzed around me, rushing through my palms and to my heart as if it was trying to jumpstart a failing engine.
Suddenly, it all stopped, though the sensation remained.
I landed hard on the ground, on my stomach, a sharp pain lancing through my torso.
Groaning, I tried getting up, but my arms shook, and my core failed me. I felt drained and starved, like I hadn't eaten anything in days. As my head spun, I glanced up, only to find that I was not in my bedroom.
"Mom? Dad? Soo-Ah?" I called, or tried, but my voice cracked "Where…where are you guys?" my breath fell short, only forming a mist that disappeared in chilling air.
After a while, I was finally able to sit up, nausea hitting me like a truck.
I was amid a massive courtyard spanning from either side under a dark, starry sky.
Strange trees that looked identical to one another grew along the cobble path in an intricate curl; their leaves lit like flickering embers. The air felt thick. It felt like I could touch something palpable in the air, yet I couldn't. Only the heavy scent of earth and pine felt familiar.
I forced myself to stand up, a pained moan escaping my lips, "This can't…be real." I whispered, yet I couldn't deny the real sensation of pain and the vivid, sharp colors around me. Everything I felt denied the idea of all this being a dream.
It was only when I stood up that I saw the towering stone pillars with pointed roofs and circular windows. Most of the windows flickered with a flame-like light, and others were lit white.
I slowly took in my surroundings, careful as every turn sent a sharp pain through my neck. "Please let this be a dream," I muttered, clutching the now-crumpled letter of 'admission' in my hand.
Then, my breath caught as I noticed shadows in the windows. One by one, figures appeared, silhouettes framed by flickering lights. They peered down at me, unmoving, their faces obscured. My stomach twisted. They were watching me. Not just looking…watching, like I was some stray animal that had wandered into the wrong pen.
Before I could do anything, one of the windows flew open, and a figure shot out—no, flew out, gliding through the air toward me.
I couldn't help but shake, more so because of terror than amazement. An amber-eyed girl approached me, her eyes bewildered and annoyed, "By the stars above, what foolishness drives you to wander about at such an hour?"
I froze, her words sounded gibberish to me. It wasn't that I couldn't understand the language, "You're…floating…flying…" I managed to spit through shivering lips.
She cocked her head to the side, "Yes, I am?" She then landed on the cobble path with a dull thud.
What? People don't fly. I only managed to shake my head, wary yet hopeful that this person would be able to at least tell me where I was. And so gathering a bit of courage, I asked.
"Where am I?" I spun my head, immediately regretting it as pain followed. I winced.
Her eyes squinted at me, scanning around us, "You're in the Magist University, I take it you were not meant to be here?"
I glanced at the crumpled letter in my hand, "I'm not so sure myself," I hoarsely muttered.
The girl took a step back, her expression shifting from annoyance to something sharper. "Let me see that," she demanded, extending a hand.
Hesitant, I handed the letter. She unfolded the creased paper, scanning it meticulously with a frown, "An admission letter? The orientation ended six hours ago…" She looked up at me, "And what happened to you? Why are you so battered?"
'Battered?' I thought. I know I fell hard, but not that hard.
Then, I took notice of my arms, my tattered pants, and patches of bruises that made my skin look sickly purple, "What?"
Feeling lightheaded, one of my knees gave out, and my ears rang in a high pitch that muffled the sound of someone's voice. I fell face-first on the ground, my cheeks scraping the rough cobble floor, the cold, hard surface biting into my skin. My vision narrowed, and my limbs gave out.
"Hey—"
"—Get a hold of—"
I blacked out. But before I did, I caught a glimpse of a gleaming white dagger stabbed on the dark cobble floor, my fingers failing to reach it.