Today, I was out to fetch bread for our shop, but the town of Muzolone had other plans for me.
I'm stuck in a crowd.
The wave of people is moving in the exact opposite direction of where I need to go. I knew there would be a huge gathering, but not this huge. Everyone's gathered here to witness the arrival of the enemy nation's politicians for the peace treaty.
My watch rings.
Oh. It's Uncle Ten.
"Yes, Uncle Ten. uhhh... As you can hear from the noise, people are gathered near the assembly hall. I'll be late coming home."
"And what are they gathered there for, Win?" Uncle asks.
"To hear the declaration of peace and feel the relief that comes with it." My tone says, isn't that obvious?
"Exactly. Winter, when you knew there would be a huge crowd by evening, why didn't you leave when I asked you to move earlier before the gathering? You ignored the call?"
…I don't have an answer. No comeback.
"Learn to be punctual, kid. You're taking life way too lightly. These small mistakes will lead you to make a big one."
Ugh. Here we go again.
Someone behind me yells, "Ah mate, again with this peace treaty? When will we be done with war for good? Everyone knows there'll be another one in a couple of years. Our region's unstable."
I don't understand why some people want war. I get that the enemy nations should be sent a message, but war never ends well for us. If we can have even a couple of years of peace, why isn't that enough?
The cold and wind are tearing through my boots and pants, even though they're designed for this harsh winter. But here I am, stuck in politics and crowds I want no part of. I just wanted some bread—this feels like way too much punishment.
Eventually, the moment comes. The speakers boom overhead: "People of Arees, know that the peace treaty has been signed. King Xavier XI honours each nation that has shown the courtesy to pause the ongoing war in the Iron Dragon region. Geyunich, Sasarden, Thakratel, and Gopalness have all agreed."
The crowd roars with joy. I was frustrated before, but honestly, even I don't mind this moment. After four years of terror, we could use a break.
"King Xavier XI is always in service to the people of Arees. He will never betray the hope of the public."
I start heading home. Our shop is at the corner of a marketplace, right at a crossroads. The pizza shop is connected to our house, and in the evening glow, it looks... magnificent. I didn't realize how much I needed to see something familiar and warm after such a chaotic day.
I finally reached the door of the pizzeria. I'm not exactly eager to face Uncle Ten's disappointed glare, but the moment I push the door even slightly, the bell will give me away.
But as I'm about to—
Time stops.
My hand freezes mid-air. I can't move it. What's going on?
A sparkle appears next to me. The shine intensifies, forming the outline of a man. The creation completes, revealing a tall guy with long hair, an old-fashioned coat, and exquisite pants.
I can't help but feel a bit underdressed next to him. I'm just an ordinary guy with orange eyes, gray hair, a tattered jacket, a maroon shirt, and worn-out boots. He's polished. Like someone out of a storybook.
He notices me staring.
"So, you can see me teleporting in," the stranger says.
"That means you're probably a magic user. Magic users are affected for a shorter time by Dismagnita. You can move now."
Suddenly, my body unfreezes, and I lose balance, falling to the ground.
"I was trying hard to move..." I mutter.
I look up at him. "Umm... who are you? What are you?"
He laughs. "What am I? Don't worry. No need to be scared—I won't harm you or anyone here."
He checks something on his wrist. "5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."
He snaps his fingers.
And just like that, everything resumes. Cars move. Street cats scurry. People chat like nothing happened.
I get up, brush the dust off, and check the condition of the bread.
"Umm... what was all that?"
"Military tech," he says. "Teleportation testing. I'm the developer. It causes everything to pause for a few seconds and freeze. But I wasn't expecting a magic user to be standing at my arrival point."
"And the finger snap? Dismagnita?"
"The snap? Just for style. Makes me look cool. I don't control time or anything." He chuckles. "Dismagnita's the name of the device."
"May I know your name? It is Winter Williamson, right?"
"Wait—how do you know my name?"
"I took your ID card. Without permission. Sorry."
"Hey!" I shout. "When did you—?"
"When you were on the ground."
"Give it back!"
I charge at him, but he just sidesteps, calm as ever. I try again. And again. Nothing works.
"Please give it back!" Tears well up as I flail like a frustrated child.
He glances at the card. "Third year at Muzolone University. Impressive. Keep it up."
"Now give it to me!"
I snatch the card, only to find it blank.
"What did you do? Where's the info?!"
"The card's in your back pocket," he says calmly.
It is. I feel it and pull it out. Everything's intact.
"How did you do that? I don't remember you putting it back."
"Illusions. Not to brag, but I'm good at magic."
He places his hand on my shoulder.
"So, Winter, as an honorary citizen of Arees, I trust you'll keep this a secret. No one must know what happened here. We'll meet again—you'll come looking for me."
"Uhh, okay..." I think. This guy is shady. Maybe this is what military life is like?
"May I know your name, sir?"
"Michael Emirati."
"Sure. Be sure to visit our pizzeria sometime."
"I don't like pizza," he replies, turning to leave.
What a weird interaction. First politics, now military tech?
"Oh no—the bread!"
"Hey..."
What was his name again?
Why can't I remember?
That's so frustrating.
I bend down, pull out my tiny diary. It always comes in handy.
"Miche...al. Yeah, must be Michael... or Mike. What was his title again? Who is this guy? Why am I even thinking about him so much?"
I scribble: Michael (weird) in my diary.
Under it, I write: Magic. Long hair. Victorian clothes.
Who is this guy? How can I forget someone I just met?
The bell rings.
A customer enters.
I follow them in. Best chance I've got to avoid getting scolded by Uncle Ten.
I quickly slip into the family group, walking in.