The last three people’s statuses appeared one after another, each more mundane than the last. No bizarre titles, no embarrassing quirks—just straightforward skills and attributes, the kind you’d expect from adventurers or would-be heroes, despite whatever personality those three might have.

  There was a collective sense of relief in the room, as if the tension that had built over the day was finally easing.

  When the display faded, the king straightened, his expression composed but tinged with satisfaction and relief. “Very well,” he declared, his voice calm yet carrying authority. “That concludes the evaluation of your statuses.”

  A ripple of murmurs and light applause ran through the group. Some of my companions exchanged tired but amused glances, while others simply leaned back, stretching and exhaling deeply after the long, intense session.

  “Thank you for indulging this one,” the king continued, gestured towards himself before gesturing towards the exit. “You may retire for the evening and rest. All of you have earned it. Special lodgings have been prepared for all of you to use.”

  Then he turned to Celestia. “You are to inform the maids, have them guide everyone to their rooms. After that, you will rest.”

  She bowed, without a word.

  The king paused for a moment, a flicker of regret crossing his features. “I must also apologize for the absence of the queen. She has been dispatched on a diplomatic mission to the neighboring country and will join you either tomorrow or within the next few days.”

  Our group nodded politely, understanding the weight of royal duties. Even so, a few of us muttered among ourselves about how nice it would be to have some downtime, finally free from status plates, evaluations, and the occasional mortifying revelations about titles.

  As we stood up, Nana baa-san whispered. “Well,” she said softly despite how sharp her tone was, “that went, better than I expected.”

  I gave her a small smile while I rubbed and stretched my neck. “Yeah, better than expected. Hopefully tomorrow won’t be too interesting.”

  Outside the chamber, the evening air felt cool against our faces. The castle corridors were quiet, almost peaceful, but I knew this calm was temporary. In this world or any world with the existence of magic, rest was always just the calm before the next storm.

  Kaname, the other group’s teacher, stepped forward, her usually calm voice soft but quivering just slightly. “I… I would like to request that the girls, at least, stay together in one room for now,” she said, fidgeting lightly with the hem of her sleeve. “We’ve only just arrived in this world and it might help us feel safer, and ease any lingering doubts or fears we may have.”

  The king nodded with understanding. “I see. That is reasonable. Considering the circumstances, allowing all of you some comfort and familiarity is wise.”

  He then glanced toward the rest of us. “And what of you, gentlemen? Shall the same arrangements be made for the rest of you as well?”

  Arthur’s father and Trayn’s father, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward. Arthur’s father spoke first. “Yes, your majesty. If possible, they shall remain under our supervision for now,” he said, firm but calm.

  Trayn’s father nodded similarly. “At the very least, for the first few nights.”

  The king nodded again, and commanded Celestia to instruct the household of the new arrangements.

  With the matter settled, our group began to disperse down the corridor, the chatter quiet but relieved. Even outside in the drawing room, where the earlier evaluation had taken place, the castle’s vastness still felt a bit weird.

  And especially for a castle that had seen centuries of history, these small, personal arrangements reminded everyone that no matter the power or status, comfort and trust were just as important as strength and skill.

  A few minutes later, a servant came and informed everyone that it will take half an hour for everything to be prepared. The king opted to wait for the rooms to be finished, but made Celestia go to bed. The overly enthusiastic near-delirious mage, bowed and excused herself, looking rather sad at her dismissal.

  Like clockwork, the servants informed us that the rooms we requested were finished and the king himself saw us off.

  I glanced around as we walked off together, Kaname stayed close behind the girls, her steps careful but measured, like she was ready to throw herself in front of someone in the case of an attack. Nana baa-san and my mother went with them, arm in arm with Reika.

  Us boys trailed after the fathers who were talking like they had known each other for years. For now, at least, the small measure of structure, supervision, and comfort gave the group a sense of normalcy amidst the overwhelming strangeness of the world we’d been pulled into.

  To our surprise, the two rooms assigned to us were side by side, separated by a rather thick and sturdy partition that the servants had erected. From the corridor, it looked as if the two halves of a single grand chamber had been split for privacy. But, stepping inside revealed the grandeur of the space.

  The rooms were massive, the kind that could have easily served as ballrooms for the court. High, vaulted ceilings arched above us, their curves adorned with intricate carvings of leaves, stars, and house emblems that shimmered faintly under the glow of the enchanted crystal lights. Unlike the wall-mounted lamps from before, these crystals were suspended from six gleaming chandeliers in each half, cascading a soft, warm light.

  The beds were enormous, about as large as those in the hotel and they were wide enough to comfortably accommodate two people. The headboards were carved with delicate filigree, depicting scenes of heroic battles, mythical beasts, and swirling clouds, each detail catching the light in a way that made the figures almost seem alive.

  On the male side, beneath each bed there was its own subtle yet lavish practicality. Ornate porcelain lidded chamber pots were tucked neatly, their surfaces painted with intricate motifs—dragons coiling around moons, forests curling into swirling patterns, and tiny crystals that seemed to glow faintly in the crystal light. Even in something as mundane as this, the castle’s magic and artistry had found a way to elevate it, making even necessity feel almost regal.

  The female side was designed differently, reflecting both comfort and modesty. On one side of the chamber, a section had been partitioned with a draped curtain, providing a private space for the girls if they needed it. The fabric was a simple thick white sheet embroidered with silver threads that shimmered as the chandeliers above cast their light. It hung from a metal frame, falling in soft folds to the polished floor. The gentle swish of the curtains gave the area a sense of secrecy and intimacy, a quiet corner where anyone could retreat to change, reflect, or simply have a moment to themselves.

  Plush rugs covered the floor, their deep reds and blues patterned with shapes, adding a feeling of warmth and intimacy to the otherwise grandiose chamber.

  The walls, a muted cream with gold trim, were lined with shelves holding books and other decorations, like crystal decanters that were filled with unknown liquids, or small magical artifacts that pulsed faintly.

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  These small differences spoke to the thoughtfulness of the castle’s caretakers. Functionality did not compromise beauty, and privacy did not disrupt the elegance of the chambers.

  The girls peeked at the curtained section with a mix of curiosity and shyness, while the boys seemed more curious by the glowing porcelain pots than they were willing to admit.

  Kaname, stayed slightly near the doorway and seemed momentarily awed herself, her soft voice breaking the quiet awe of the rooms.

  “It’s, much larger than I expected,” she said, her voice quivering just enough to betray her fatigue and lingering worry. “But I think this will be perfect for now. We’ll be able to stay together, share thoughts, and support each other.”

  My father on the other hand, had his brows furrowed, and asked no one in particular. “They managed to finish all this, in thirty minutes?”

  Most were of the same opinion. The servants worked fast. The king however, lightly chuckled, amused at our bewilderment.

  The partition in the center was made of a sturdy wood. It was tall enough to reach near the ceiling and ensured privacy. Everyone exchanged glances, the usual chatter subdued by the sheer beauty and strangeness of the room.

  Weirdly enough, the air smelled faintly of lavender and sandalwood, a comforting scent that seemed designed to ease newcomers into the castle’s otherworldly environment. They either have the same plants or a plant that has the same scent, I thought to myself as everyone else entered their designated side of the room.

  In all honesty I don’t like this setup. I prefer somewhat cramped spaces not an open one, or at the very least, a room where I can be alone in private. I must find a way to obtain a room of my own.

  I lingered in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in. The grandeur, the familiar yet unfamiliar feeling woven into every surface, and the gentle light—it felt like stepping into a fairy tale, yet the reality of our situation still hung over us like a shadow.

  To everyone else, for a fleeting moment, the weight of the summoning, the battles ahead, and the impossible tasks faded, replaced by the quiet marvel of this magical sanctuary. For me, it was a different matter.

  “Now, honored guests,” he said, his tone warm. The king gave a final, warm smile. “I bid you all goodnight.”

  Then he gave a small, courteous bow. “The servants of the castle are at your disposal. Should you need anything, you have only to ask.”

  He gestured subtly toward the corridors beyond. “I have stationed four guards near your doors. You need only ask, and they will attend to your request without hesitation.”

  With that, the king’s party withdrew, their presence leaving the room feeling at once grand and strangely intimate. The servants silently appeared and vanished like whispers in the corridors, attending to the final touches and ensuring everything was perfect for the night.

  We were left alone—or as alone as a group of wide-eyed, slightly overwhelmed teenagers and their family could be—surrounded by opulence, comfort, and the faint thrill of magic and expectation that seemed to stick in the very air.

  Kaname lingered a moment, her eyes scanning everyone’s faces. “Everyone, rest well,” she said, her voice soft but still quivering. “We have a lot to prepare for, and…” she paused, her shoulders relaxing slightly, “we’re all in this together.”

  Soft murmurs of agreement rippled through our group, before we finally broke away from one another, filtering into the two separate rooms.

  For everyone else, it was time to finally settle in and, for the first time since the summoning, try to rest in a world that was equal parts breathtaking, bewildering, and one that might also prove perilous. For me however, I still had things to do.

  ========================================================================

  The king stepped into his private study, closing the heavy door behind him with a muted thud. Night air pressed softly against the windows, and the twin moons cast a gentle teal glow across the room and draped the space in a quiet, otherworldly glow, just bright enough to reveal the slender figure waiting inside.

  His royal mage stood near the central table, hands clasped tightly before her, fingers twisted together, posture stiff with worry. She was like a small, motionless shape in the teal light cast by the twin moons. The moonlight caught the edges of her ash gray hair, but it did little to soften the tremor in her posture.

  The king was irritated because he found her patiently waiting here, when he had clearly instructed her to rest.

  She bowed the moment he entered.

  “Your Majesty… I wished to apologize.”

  He said nothing at first. He remembered being woken up and called to the main drawing room, after—after what he thought was another night of failed attempts. He remembered finding the heroes assembled, disoriented, unharmed but also angry.

  Then he remembered his young mage pale as parchment taking in their anger as best she could, placating them as best she could.

  The heroes had arrived safely, as she had declared she would do. Yet here she was—shoulders drawn in, voice trembling—burdened by something she believed she had done wrong. It wasn’t until later, during their evaluation, that the error finally came to light. One extra person. One person, unmarked, unintended.

  His royal mage’s voice pulled the king back to reality, and only then did he realize how long he had stood in silence.

  “I fear I may have made a mistake. I must have miscast something,” she whispered now, her hands clenching tightly in front of her. “The pattern was stable. I checked it three times. But I must have made a mistake for the circle to draw in someone who wasn’t meant to be taken. I—” Her voice wavered and cracked, and she lowered her head again, as though the floor itself deserved an apology too.

  The king didn’t interrupt, but he could imagine the summoning circle in his mind—the brilliant light, the swirl of power, the heroes materializing one by one. The king had to admit to himself that he had started to doubt her a bit. But as always, this one had proven him and everyone else wrong to doubt her.

  He exhaled, a slow inward breath tinged, now, with faint amusement—not at her, but at the earnestness with which she shouldered burdens far older mages would have ignored.

  Had it been another mage, they would have dismissed the issue entirely. They would have declared that the extra arrival should feel fortunate, even honored, to have been caught in such a grand summoning. Some might have insisted that fate itself simply chose to add him.

  And given that the unintended guest’s brother was one of the heroes… that kind of arrogance would have caused far more trouble than the mistake itself.

  Then the king regarded his royal mage, his niece, silently.

  In the moonlight, she looked even younger than her years suggested—young enough that she still believed every unforeseen outcome was somehow her fault. She carried her brilliance like something fragile, like a delicate thing she had to hold with both hands in case it broke.

  Instead of wearing it with pride, she was convinced she was unworthy of the gifts she carried and therefore obligated to prove herself again and again to everyone around her.

  It was not a bad thing, nor was it a flaw in itself. Humility often kept people grounded. But it’s gotten to the point where she blames herself for everything, even the whims of the gods.

  A quiet, inward sigh warmed his chest. He found himself surprisingly relieved that she, of all people, was the one who had stood at the ritual’s center. Someone who felt the weight of unintended consequences. Someone who cared enough to tremble over them.

  He stepped further into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him as her anxious breath hitched in the quiet.

  The king remembered how that person acted, mentally comparing him to how the heroes had acted. In truth, he quite liked him, despite the crude remarks he made. Over the years, the king had encountered countless people—many of whom hid themselves behind the pleasant mask of a polite smile.

  That boy, however, was different. He carried himself with the same, or dare he say it, possibly more self-assuredness than some of the heroes beside him, despite his physique. He had met many who were fat, yet, compared to them, his confidence never felt—performative.

  What struck the king most was the way the man spoke to comfort his mother. That simple act revealed more about his character than any boast, crass remark or courteous gesture could. The king recognized that the roughness in his attitude was merely a fa?ade, a deliberate layer of brashness covering a far more considerate and possibly, observant nature.

  And then there were his titles. Some of them were… interpretive, to put it kindly, but even those hinted that the boy was far more than he appeared. Titles were not granted lightly as each one revealed a truth, however small, about the person who bore it.

  What truly caught the king’s attention were two in particular. The king had encountered many titles in his lifetime, some impressive, some troubling, and some merely colorful. He had even once met a man labeled [Crass], so the presence of abrasive or unflattering titles did not surprise him.

  But these two, [Deep Thinker] and [Quick Learner], he had neither seen nor heard of them before today. Their appearance suggested a mind that moved differently—faster, deeper, more adaptable than most. And that, more than anything else, confirmed to the king that the boy was not simply hiding behind a fa?ade of rough manners. It was possibly a calculated move, and there was substance beneath the surface, and the titles only made that truth impossible to ignore.

  The king regarded his royal mage once more.

  He needed to check on someone, and here was someone who was looking for forgiveness for an imagined wrongdoing, waiting for a reprimand she thought she deserved

  A small smile tugged at the end of his lips as the king made his judgment.