The sun is already dipping low, casting long golden streaks across the worn cobblestones as I finally reach the iron gates of the examination facility. Above it hangs a massive board, weathered and crooked, with the words Nemora Examination Facility etched in rusty, faded lettering. The whole place gives off serious 'abandoned castle turned school for misfits' vibes. Not exactly welcoming.
I trudge up to the gate, already preparing to brainstorm ways to sneak in. Again. Because apparently in this world, you can't just 'exist' without a pass. This time, however, I don't think Princess Elena is going to magically pop out of the shadows and save my sorry behind.
Just as I'm plotting my infiltration strategy (which involves a lot of fake confidence and maybe some dramatic sneezing to cause a distraction), a voice booms from the side.
"Xiao Zhen! What are you doing there?"
I freeze.
Wait. What?
The guard strides over, frowning with the authority of someone who definitely remembers yelling at you for climbing over walls last week. I'm too stunned to react.
He starts scolding me like I'm some truant schoolboy. "I went through so much trouble to get you an application. And now you're just standing here like a stray cat? You're ruining everything, boy. Is the exam so frightening that you're paralyzed at the gate?"
I blink. My mouth opens, then closes. I'm not sure what response is appropriate for this level of mistaken identity.
"I understand it's scary," the guard continues, his voice softening just a little. "But think about what comes after. If you pass… you'll be among the knights. One of us. Just get through this. I know you can."
He looks at me with something oddly close to fatherly affection. I nod slowly, very aware that I'm playing a dangerous game of pretend. "I'll do my best," I say, trying to sound confident and not like someone who just arrived in this world with no idea what day it is.
The guard sighs with relief. "Good. I'm proud of you. And don't take other people's harsh words to heart. You've made it this far, haven't you?"
More nodding. Less talking. That's my current survival strategy.
"Go to your room and rest," he says firmly. "You've got your screening tomorrow."
Oh. Fabulous. 'Tomorrow.' I smile through the misery curling in my gut, give him a respectful nod, and shuffle through the gates.
The inside of the facility feels like someone merged a medieval abbey with a college dormitory. Ancient stone walls, flickering torches (yes, actual fire torches), and rows of heavy wooden doors lining narrow corridors. I half expect a ghost to float by in a scholar's robe.
It's already sunset, the sky bleeding orange and purple through the arrow-slit windows. I decide to head straight to my room to avoid running into anyone who might expect me to know things I don't.
Small issue: I have absolutely no idea where my room is.
So I do what any lost soul in a mysterious dorm would do—wander aimlessly and pretend I'm deep in thought. Maybe I'll find a sign, or a friendly talking wall. No luck so far.
Just as I'm passing through a narrow stone alleyway between two buildings, a group of students turns the corner and blocks my path. The guy at the front walks like he owns the whole campus—and probably a couple of people too. He spots me, grins, and laughs so hard it echoes.
"Oh, you survived?" he says, mock surprise painted across his smug face. "We honestly thought you'd become jungle meat by now. It's a real shame, honestly. A loser like you making it back? Utterly disgraceful."
Behind him, the others snicker like trained hyenas. I stay quiet, partly because I'm outnumbered, and partly because I don't even know this man's name or power level. That seems like important information before engaging in any ego battles.
He steps closer, grabs my neck—not tight enough to really hurt, but enough to humiliate. "Maybe a knight found you and dragged your pathetic self here. But let me be clear—tomorrow? You're not going to survive. You think this is your world now? You're a slave, remember that. You shouldn't be competing with 'us.' It's embarrassing."
He shoves me back with a sneer, his gang trailing behind him in a chorus of laughter. I clench my fists, jaw tight, but say nothing. Survival first. Vengeance… maybe later.
Once they disappear around the corner, I exhale sharply.
When those guys finally leave, I'm left standing alone, rattled and aching. Just as I start to gather myself, a voice calls out my name.
"Xiao Zhen!"
I flinch.
Hearing my own name in this strange world still sends a jolt down my spine. I turn, and a chubby boy jogs up to me, his face pink from the run.
"You okay?" he asks, eyes scanning my face. "Where were you? I saw them surround you—man, are you hurt?"
I nod faintly, playing along. My body feels sore enough to pass as injured, and frankly, I have no idea where I'm supposed to go from here.
He doesn't wait for much explanation, just grabs my arm gently and starts guiding me. "Come on. Let's get you back to your room."
I don't argue.
We walk through corridors that all look the same to me, until we stop at a small, unimpressive door. He opens it like he's done it a hundred times before.
"Here it is."
Inside, the room is barely furnished—just a single worn-out bed, a rickety desk, and a stool that looks like it's been sat on by generations of students before me. The walls are dull and cracked in places. Everything smells like dust and old books.
The boy helps me sit down, then drops onto the stool with a huff. "You should rest."
I give a small nod, still pretending to be dazed.
He stays for a while, chatting casually—nothing too deep, but something about the flow of his words, it fills in some blanks. Little by little, puzzle pieces click together. His words help me understand more than he probably realizes.
And for the first time since I landed here, I don't feel completely alone.
Not yet sure who I am here.
But maybe I'm starting to figure it out.
We keep chatting, the sunset outside bleeding fully into twilight, and I forget for a moment that I'm lost in a world I didn't choose.