Darkness.

  Then—pain.

  A sharp, tearing sensation, like being ripped from himself. Air forced its way into his lungs, burning, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. His stomach lurched, his limbs convulsed, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he wasn’t sure if he even had a body anymore.

  The world crashed down around him.

  Light—blinding, white-gold, stabbing into his skull. Noise—murmurs, shuffling fabric, the distant crackle of something magical and alive. Scents—burning incense, old parchment, something metallic, like blood.

  He collapsed onto something cold and smooth. Stone.

  His body trembled. His mind swam. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the nausea twisting his stomach. Something was wrong. His thoughts felt disjointed, blurred at the edges, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit together.

  Where was he?

  He tried to remember.

  But the memories—his apartment, his work, the streets he walked every day—felt distant, hazy. Like a dream slipping away upon waking.

  Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

  A voice cut through the haze.

  “Is this… a mistake?”

  The words barely registered. He forced his eyes open, blinking against the firelight of torches. His vision was unsteady, swimming in and out of focus. Shapes loomed around him—figures in dark robes, standing in a wide, circular chamber. The air thrummed with energy, the floor beneath him lined with glowing symbols.

  A ritual.

  He swallowed. His mouth was dry. His heart pounded.

  What the hell is this?

  A figure stepped forward. A woman—tall, elegant, with piercing blue eyes that shone like tempered steel. Power radiated from her, sharp and suffocating. Like the electricity of a lightning bolt.

  “Who are you?”

  Her voice was calm, but it carried weight. A demand, not a question.

  He opened his mouth, instinctively reaching for an answer.

  But—

  Nothing.

  His mind blanked. The words caught in his throat. He knew he had a name—he should have a name—but when he tried to say it, all that came was silence.

  Panic flared in his chest. He tried again, desperate, his thoughts clawing at something solid, something real.

  And then—

  “K-Kazuki…”

  The name tumbled from his lips, unfamiliar and uncertain, as if it barely belonged to him. He wasn’t even sure why he said it like that. It was his name, wasn’t it?

  A whisper rippled through the robed figures. Unease flickered across the woman’s face—brief, but there.

  “This is not what was promised.”

  The words sent a chill down his spine. He didn’t know what they had expected, but from the way they were looking at him…

  He wasn’t it.

  His fingers dug into the stone floor. His pulse pounded in his ears.

  He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know why he was here.

  The chamber was too quiet for the growing tension.

  Kazuki could hear his own breathing, uneven and shallow, as the robed figures stared at him. The symbols on the stone floor still glowed, casting eerie shadows on their faces. Some of them looked confused. Others… disappointed.

  The woman in front of him—foreigner blonde, poised, her presence suffocating—didn’t take her eyes off him.

  “This is not what was promised,” she repeated again, something far more fierce in her tone this time. Kazuki could label it as an unfathomable disappointment towards his appearance.

  The words lingered, cold and heavy in the air.

  Kazuki swallowed, his throat dry. His body still ached from—whatever had just happened to him. The summoning? The ritual? He didn’t understand. His head was still swimming.

  But one thing was painfully clear.

  They didn’t want him.

  A rush of voices broke through the silence.

  “The spell was flawless. This shouldn’t have happened!”

  “Perhaps the catalyst was unstable?”

  “No, the formula was precise. We should have received—”

  A sharp gesture from the blonde woman silenced them all. She stepped closer. Her presence was suffocating, like the weight of a storm pressing against his chest.

  “You,” she said, voice calm but razor-sharp. “Kazuki. Do you understand what has happened?”

  His breath hitched.

  Do I?

  He could piece together fragments. He had been somewhere else. Then something—someone—had pulled him here. He knew it wasn’t a dream, not with the cold stone beneath his hands, the heavy scent of incense burning the insides of his nose, the way his heart pounded against his ribs.

  But none of it made sense.

  He shook his head.

  The woman exhaled slowly. Not quite a sigh, but close.

  “This was meant to be a summoning,” she said. “A ritual of great importance. We sought a savior, a hero… a force capable of turning the tide of war.”

  Kazuki stiffened.

  “And instead,” she continued, blue eyes narrowing, “we received you.”

  His stomach twisted.

  His mind screamed at him to say something, anything—but what could he even say? He wasn’t a warrior. He wasn’t a hero. He was just—just some guy from Tokyo, thirty years old, with a life so unremarkable that even his own name had almost slipped away the moment he arrived here.

  “This is a mistake,” one of the robed figures muttered.

  “We should banish him and try again,” another said.

  Kazuki felt a chill crawl up his spine. Banish?

  The woman, who appears to be the leader, didn’t respond right away. She studied him—eyes sharp, calculating. He felt like an insect trapped under glass.

  “No.”

  Her voice was leveled, but it silenced the room instantly.

  “The spell cannot be undone so easily. He is here now, bound to this world. To send him away would risk more than we can afford. It would be a waste of all the resources we’ve used until now.”

  A murmur of discontent rippled through the robed figures. Kazuki’s hands clenched into fists.

  “Then what do we do with him?” someone asked.

  The woman was silent for a moment. Then, finally—

  “We take him to the Queen.”

  Kazuki’s heart skipped a beat.

  Queen? As in—real royalty? The weight of the situation finally settled on his shoulders like a crushing force. He had no idea where he was, no idea what they expected of him, no idea if he even had a way back home.

  And now he was about to be dragged in front of royalty?

  His pulse pounded in his ears. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into the unknown. The blood inside his veins felt like a frozen river.

  “Come,” the woman said, turning away, the long sleeves of her robes fluttering from her sharp movements. “Your fate will be decided soon.”

  Kazuki swallowed hard and forced himself to stand, legs unsteady beneath him. He had no choice but to follow.

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  They walked up a long flight of stairs after leaving the room, reaching the top where a heavy wooden door awaited them. With the click of a key, it was unlocked and opened, gracing them access to what is a completely different environment. Gone are the rough stone walls and dark corners. Perhaps the shock had been too obvious in his face, or his faltering steps were just too hard to ignore by the others, but someone ultimately offered some words of explanation that sounded more like a warning.

  “This is the royal palace so watch yourself.”

  And with that, he pushed his legs to keep moving out of sheer anxiety.

  The hallways of the palace were a study in contrasts—grand, imposing, but eerily silent. With lit candelabras and crystals illuminating the paths with soft light. The only sounds were the soft echoes of footsteps against polished stone. Kazuki’s mind raced, but no matter how much he tried to piece things together, the situation remained surreal.

  Every so often, he caught the sidelong glances of the robed figures escorting him. Their expressions ranged from wariness to irritation, as if they were trying to decide whether he was an inconvenience or a complete failure.

  The woman leading the group—tall, severe, every movement deliberate—hadn’t spoken since they left the summoning chamber. Kazuki wanted to ask something, anything that might help him understand what was happening, but his throat felt tight.

  What was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry I’m not the hero you ordered?

  They stopped before a set of massive doors. Dark wood, intricately carved, flanked by two armored guards who stood as still as statues.

  “Inform Her Majesty,” the woman said.

  One of the guards nodded and disappeared inside.

  Kazuki exhaled slowly. His pulse was still racing, his mind struggling to grasp the weight of this moment. A Queen. An actual Queen. He was about to meet royalty, in a different world that has magic, after being summoned by accident.

  A minute passed. Then another.

  Finally, the doors swung open.

  “Enter.”

  The woman didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, and the others followed. Kazuki forced his legs to move, even as his instincts screamed at him to turn and run.

  The throne room was massive. Tall columns lined the walls, banners of deep purple and gold hanging between them. Moonlight streamed through high windows, catching the polished marble floors and the silver embroidery on the servants' clothing.

  At the far end, seated on an ornate throne, was the Queen.

  Kazuki didn’t know what he had expected—an elderly ruler draped in jewels, perhaps—but the woman on the throne was nothing like that.

  She was striking, her presence sharp as a blade. Her black hair was perfectly arranged, her expression calm and unreadable. A woman who had ruled for years, who had seen countless faces kneel before her, and who now regarded Kazuki with quiet calculation.

  “Your Majesty,” the woman beside him said, bowing deeply. The rest followed suit.

  Kazuki hesitated. Should he bow too? Was that expected? He had no idea how etiquette worked here—

  “This is the one?” the Queen’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  It wasn’t quite disappointment. Nor was it anger. But there was something in her tone that made his stomach tighten.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the woman confirmed. “The ritual was performed flawlessly. Yet… he is what we received.”

  A flicker of something unreadable passed through the Queen’s gaze.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  For a second, Kazuki‘s mind almost blanked again in face of such a simple question. The weight of this world, the sheer strangeness of everything, had nearly made him lose even that small sense of reality.

  “Takahashi Kazuki,” he managed. His voice sounded smaller than he would have liked. Then he quickly remembered how the western side of his world didn’t have the habit of placing a person’s surname before their own name. “As in, Takahashi is my family name.” He hurried to add, hoping to not sound as stupid as he imagined to look at that moment.

  The Queen studied him.

  “Kazuki Takahashi,” she repeated, as if testing the shape of his name in its correct order.

  A pause.

  “Do you understand why you are here?”

  His fingers curled into his palms. This again.

  “Not really,” he admitted.

  A murmur spread through the room. A few attendants exchanged glances.

  “Honest,” the Queen noted, her tone giving nothing away.

  She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on one hand.

  “Tell me, Kazuki… What are you?”

  The question hit harder than he expected.

  “What…?” he echoed.

  “What are you?” she repeated. “A warrior? A scholar? A merchant? If you had to define yourself, how would you do it?”

  Kazuki opened his mouth—then closed it.

  He had no answer.

  In his old life, he had been… what, exactly? A man who worked to pay his bills? Someone who drifted from one routine to the next, always meeting expectations but never stepping beyond them? He wasn’t a fighter, or a hero, or anything remarkable.

  Just an ordinary man.

  And yet, here he was.

  The Queen was still watching him, waiting.

  Kazuki swallowed.

  “I… don’t know.”

  Silence.

  The murmurs in the room grew louder this time. Disbelief, irritation, confusion. Even the woman standing beside him now had a deep frown, as if conflicted between feeling offended or bewildered at what she heard.

  “You don’t know,” the Queen repeated, with a slower tempo. As if she were processing his response.

  “No.”

  For some reason, that answer seemed to interest her.

  Then, after a moment—

  “Very well.”

  She rose to her feet. The room immediately fell silent.

  “You will stay,” she declared.

  The robed figures tensed.

  “Your Majesty,” one of them began, “this was not the result we sought. Surely—”

  “The magic chose him,” the Queen interrupted. “Whether through fate or failure, he stands here now. We will not discard him so carelessly.”

  She turned her gaze back to Kazuki.

  “For now, you will remain under watch. We will determine your purpose soon enough.”

  Kazuki barely had time to process her words before the guards stepped forward, shining armors clanking softly.

  “Take him to the guest chambers,” the Queen ordered. “He is not to leave until I say otherwise.”

  Just like that, the decision was made.

  Kazuki didn’t resist as the guards led him away. He didn’t have a plan, or a choice, or even a clear understanding of what had just happened.

  All he knew was that he was probably trapped in this world. And that his fate was in the hands of a Queen who wasn’t sure whether he was worth keeping.

  The guards ushered Kazuki down a series of corridors, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets beneath them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every step he took was pulling him deeper into a world he had no place in, no understanding of.

  Eventually, they reached a door—plain compared to the grandeur of the throne room, but still far more elaborate than anything Kazuki had ever encountered before. One of the guards knocked twice before entering, and they motioned for him to step inside.

  The room was modest by royal standards but still luxurious. A large bed with soft, silken sheets, a table covered with intricate designs, and shelves laden with books and scrolls. The moonlight poured in from the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. The whole space felt unfamiliar and cold.

  Kazuki took a few steps in, his eyes scanning the room. It was a place for royalty, yet here he was—an accidental summoning, an outsider in a world he didn’t belong in.

  A twenty-first century Japanese salaryman.

  One of the guards cleared his throat.

  “You will remain here for the time being,” the man said, his voice cold. “Do not attempt to leave. The Queen has ordered that you be observed.”

  Kazuki nodded absently, not trusting his voice. The door shut with a heavy thud behind him. He was alone.

  Alone.

  That word echoed in his mind. It had been less than an hour since he was yanked out of his normal life, and already, he felt a thousand miles away from anything familiar. The strangest thing wasn’t the palace, or the world itself. It was how quickly everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

  He walked toward the bed and sat down, his fingers brushing the fabric as he sank into it. He felt its softness, but it did little to comfort him. His mind was elsewhere—lost in thoughts that didn’t make sense.

  How had he ended up here?

  What was he supposed to do now?

  Kazuki’s fingers clenched the sheets tightly, his heart pounding in his chest. His old life, the one he had lived for thirty years, seemed like a distant memory, a fading echo of someone else’s story. Was that collateral from whatever magic ritual these people did to drag him here? Or was this just his unsettling heart feeling hopelessness?

  He tried to recall what happened before all of this craziness began. His memories were still fresh—it was another night of overtime in the company. The last train had already left so it was either the street or a hotel for the night. With how exhausted he’d been, Kazuki picked the nearest cheap hotel, hoping to get some good even if short sleep.

  The streets had been dark, with only his phone to guide him through a maze of narrow alleyways towards his destination. A few food stalls were open for people like him or those who lived at night. Just when he had been pondering if homemade ramen was an upgrade from his usual instant noodles, something yanked at his feet. He fell, expecting to feel hard and cold pavement to scrap his old suit at the elbows.

  But instead, his mind seemed to blackout. Maybe from the impact? Either way, the next thing he knows, he’s having a horrible headache, smelling incense and seeing figures in robes surrounding him.

  A sudden knock at the door made him jump.

  “Oh, uh—Enter!” he called, his voice a dead giveaway of his surprise.

  The door opened slowly, and a young servant entered, holding a small tray in his hands. He looked at him with wide green eyes, as though unsure of what to make of this odd stranger. The boy couldn’t be older than a highschooler by his short frame and youthful appearance.

  “I was told to bring you your meal,” he said, his voice quiet but respectful.

  Kazuki blinked, still trying to process everything. He hadn’t realized he was hungry—there had been so much else on his mind—but now that the thought occurred to him, his stomach growled loudly in response.

  The servant carefully placed the tray on the table.

  “Thank you,” Kazuki said, his voice soft. He hesitated before adding, “I don’t suppose you can answer a question for me?”

  The boy paused, looking at him with a small frown before his gaze wandered around the room, as if seeking someone to give him instructions on how to handle such a request. This insecurity reminded Takahashi of his first year in the company.

  “I’m not sure if I can do that,” he ended up saying, radiating such an uncomfortable energy that Kazuki felt bad for even asking in the first place. Still, he’s a bit too desperate to stop just because of that.

  “Listen, I don’t know where this is,” he said quietly. “I… I don’t know anything about what's happening. Or where I am. Or why.” Even just saying it out loud made him even more depressed. “So, can you tell me where this place is? I don’t think you will get in trouble for telling me only that.”

  The servant’s eyes softened slightly, but he didn’t respond right away. But the young man seemed to feel pity enough to let himself be swayed by Kazuki’s words.

  He gave a slight bow.

  “You are currently in Solmira, capital city of the Kingdom of Eldoria.”

  Kazuki was no geologist to know the name of every country on Earth. But he’s confident that there were very few still using the monarchy system for governance.

  The chances that he was still on the same planet he was born on were slim—practically nonexistent if he decided to believe that magic was a real thing. Could this all have been some elaborate prank from a reality show? Maybe. But everything felt too real. From the strange decorations in his room to the people’s reactions to his appearance.

  Those weren’t actors. This young man, who didn’t have the confidence to look him in the eyes, wasn’t acting.

  Kazuki felt that denying reality for a while would preserve some of his mind from irreversibly breaking.

  “I’ll leave you to your meal,” the servant said once he understood that Takahashi wasn’t going to say anything else. Glancing at him one last time, he turned towards the door, slipping out of the room without another word, leaving Kazuki alone before he had a chance to realize he’d spaced out.

  He glanced at the tray that was left behind after noticing the boy was gone. The food was simple but well-prepared—some kind of stew with bread on the side. Kazuki’s stomach growled again, and this time, he didn’t ignore it.

  He reached for the bread, breaking off a piece and chewing it slowly. But even as he ate, his mind never stopped running.

  In the end, no matter how much he ate, he couldn’t escape the questions that haunted him. So, wishing for some relief from this incessant inner turmoil, he laid down on the bed and allowed his conscience to turn off.