I woke up to a ceiling I didn’t recognize, its edges, painted in gold. My hand instinctively searched under the pillow. The plate was still there—reassuringly, which meant last night wasn’t a dream.

  Before I could take a breath, a pillow smacked me square in the face.

  “What the hell was that for!?” I exclaimed, rubbing my face. Trayn grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  I grabbed the offending pillow and hurled it back at him, but he caught it effortlessly, like he’d been waiting for that moment.

  “Morning Art! Just making sure last night wasn’t a dream,” he said, that cheeky smile lingering.

  “Then go pinch your own ass or something!” I replied irritably.

  Then I heard my dad’s gravelly voice from behind us.

  “Boys, it’s way too early for this,” he muttered, sounding both tired and still sleepy.

  I thought back to the whirlwind events of last night. We’d stayed up late, hearts pounding with excitement over a thousand-dollar prize. And then… somehow, impossibly, we’d been isekai’d.

  Yeah. That was probably too much excitement for anyone to handle. Still, we have magic! Hell yeah!

  I looked around. Taka was rubbing his eyes, Wills had already sat up and was cracking his neck. Everyone was just starting to wake up—except Vi, who was still curled under the blankets. Yeah, that was normal. Among us, I think he was the only one who easily slept last night. I stretched, feeling the stiffness in my back, while Trayn checked his phone.

  “It’s already 8:43 on my phone,” he said, eyeing his dad and getting ready to throw the pillow.

  “Do we even know if the time matches Earth?” Taka asked as we watched the pillow hit its mark.

  Uncle Terry squinted and grunted, grabbing the pillow and tossing it back at Trayn. Somehow, he caught it again. The pillows here were softer than the ones back at the hotel on Earth. I think that’s the reason why I couldn’t sleep properly.

  “Do we even know if this is another world or just a different reality?” I asked, finishing my stretch.

  “Yeah,” Trayn said, standing up, “And another good question is, are the people here even the same as us?” Then he added, holding something small in his hand, “Also… what do we do with these?”

  He flipped a small silver shield between his fingers. Everyone still had theirs tucked somewhere on their person. I suppose we probably wouldn’t be needing them anymore.

  No one said anything, so I shrugged and jabbled a thumb toward the door. The other three nodded, following my lead.

  “Where are you boys going?” Uncle Terry asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

  “Breakfast? And maybe next door, see if they’re up,” I replied as we made our way to the door.

  I opened it and immediately jumped, so did the girl on the other side, caught mid-knock.

  “Don’t scare Suzu like that!” she exclaimed, clutching her chest.

  “Sorry, sorry, Suzu,” I said quickly, raising both hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to.”

  She huffed and put her hands on her hips, while I couldn’t help noticing the height difference between us. Behind her, Karin was holding a wooden box, looking unusually serious.

  “Good morning, idol,” I said cheerfully to Akane. She hissed at me like an angry cat. We chuckled as Suzu spoke up again.

  “Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice commanding, despite how small she was, “Breakfast is already served in the hall. But before you go, Nana baa-san said you all need to surrender the silver shields you have.”

  Karin set the wooden box down—it was already half full with the other groups shields. We nodded and began placing ours inside.

  “After that, bring it to our room, just by the window,” Karin added, finishing the instructions.

  “So, everyone’s already eating?” Trayn asked as Taka carried the box inside.

  “Yup,” Suzu said brightly. “Everyone woke up early.”

  After some small talk, the trio left. A few seconds after that and Taka returned, holding the box.

  “I got everyone’s, except Vi’s,” he said, lifting it to show us.

  I nodded and headed next door.

  The four guards standing in front of our rooms stopped in unison, right foot forward, backs perfectly straight.

  “Good morning, lords,” they chorused.

  “Uhm, yeah… hello,” I stammered, unsure how to react to their reverent stares.

  “Good morning,” Wills said with a wry smile as Trayn and Taka nodded. “Did you four stay here all night?”

  The nearest guard nodded proudly. “Yes, lord. We never left.”

  Trayn whistled and even I had to admit, that kind of dedication was impressive.

  We placed the box where the girls had instructed, then asked for directions to the hall for breakfast.

  “We shall take you there, instead, lord,” one said, stepping forward as another readied himself.

  “Shouldn’t you be tired… or, like, sleepy now?” Taka asked, uncertain.

  “Yes, lord,” the guard replied, “but duty comes first. To guard the heroes is an honor for us. We are fortunate to accomplish it before our other comrades.”

  We exchanged looks.

  Yeah, you read about this kind of stuff all the time and imagine it being noble, impressive, but experiencing it is different. It feels… weird. Hotel staffs might do something similar, but the difference is like an ocean. The way they look at us—the expectation, the adoration, the awe—it’s a bit much.

  We made our way to the hall, the guards flanking us on either side. The corridor echoed lightly with our footstep. Everyone else was quiet except for Taka and Trayn who were making small talk with the guards.

  “So, was it a quiet shift?” Taka asked one of the guards.

  “I beg your pardon lord,” the guard replied. “But what is a shift?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “He meant your night shift,” Trayn said but the guard still looked confused. He looked at his companion who also shook his head.

  “I think they meant, how fared your watch,” Wills tried. The guards brightened.

  “Understood lord. Not a sound nor peep was heard, it was a quiet night.” the guard replied, his tone serious as if he’d just completed a heroic feat.

  We neared a great door that was decorated with flying babies of all things. It was flanked by two guards, who upon seeing our group approaching, stomped their right foot, similar to how the other four did earlier, and opened the door for us.

  The guards who guided us also stopped by the door and gestured us in.

  As we stepped into the hall, all of us slowed to a stop. Five long tables stretched near the length of the room, each already set with polished plates and gleaming cutlery that reflected the morning light. For a second, the whole place felt too orderly, too prepared—like they’d been expecting us long before we arrived.

  “Huh, look at that,” Trayn mumbled for us to hear. “I thought Hogwarts, had like four houses not five.”

  Me and Wills snorted at that, the joke echoing quietly in the large space. It wasn’t hard to figure out where we were supposed to sit, the girls’ group was gathered at one of the tables.

  At the far end of the hall, perpendicular to all the others, stood a sixth table. It wasn’t bigger or more ornate than the rest, but something about its placement made it stand out immediately—like the room itself revolved around it.

  The king was already seated there. Even while sitting, he had that same presence he’d shown the night before—calm, heavy, impossible to ignore. His clothes were similar to yesterday’s, but now deep red, trimmed with gold.

  Last night I hadn’t gotten a good look at him, everything was too dark and too sudden. But now, with sunlight pouring through the wide windows, his features were sharper, clearer. The king’s eyes were a storm-grey—distant but piercing, the kind that made you straighten your back without realizing it.

  Beside him sat a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen. The girl was his opposite in every way: blonde hair falling neatly over her shoulders, blue eyes bright and curious, softer features framing a face that was trying very hard to appear regal, but was failing.

  Every few seconds she sneaked glances our way, only to pretend she wasn’t looking when we got close.

  We moved toward the girls’ table and as soon as the king noticed us approaching, he leaned down and whispered something to his daughter. She brightened up immediately, and both of them rose from their seats in a smooth, practiced motion.

  The king didn’t wait for us to reach our seats. As soon as we were close enough, he offered a calm and rather friendly, “Good morning,” his voice steady but not as formal as last night. More like someone trying to ease tension before it even started.

  We all greeted him back, a bit awkwardly, and drifted toward the middle table, opposite the one the girls were already sitting at. The guards peeled off to the walls like they’d rehearsed it, while we tried not to stare at the king too openly.

  Once we’d settled into our seats, the king stepped closer, his daughter lingering a half-step behind him. He bowed his head slightly toward Vi and Wills’s father.

  “My apologies,” he said, tone softer than I expected. “It appears the master of the kitchens was nowhere to be found this morning. Your wife, lady Anna has volunteered to cook until a replacement can be located. Lady Tsukiyo also volunteered to help.”

  Wills’s father blinked, then gave a small nod—half surprised, half accepting. Wills himself just gave a wry smile, like he’d already made peace with it. Honestly, considering the title their mom had last night, being second only to Vi’s, it wasn’t all that strange she’d step in. Though I kind of wanted to know how the original master of the kitchen’s skills measured up to Vi’s.

  The king continued, “I assure you, she will be properly compensated for the trouble.”

  He looked genuinely apologetic and embarrassed. The princess beside him stole another quick glance at us—curious, maybe trying to piece together what sort of people we were—then straightened up again like she’d caught herself.

  “No, no, it is quite alright, Your Majesty,” Wills’s father replied, the kind of polite tone only a parent could pull off so naturally.

  The king’s expression eased. He went on to mention how excellent her cooking skills were, and Wills’s father couldn’t hide the flicker of pride that crossed his face. Even Wills seemed pleased by the compliment.

  “And also,” the king added with a small smile, “please allow me to present my daughter.”

  He gestured gently, and the girl beside him stepped forward. She gave the same practiced curtsey the royal mage had done the night before—precise, and controlled.

  “Hello, everyone,” she said. Her voice sounded slightly younger than she looked, and her accent was a strange mix—part British-sounding, part like the royal mage’s formal tone. “I am princess Charlotte Elowen of House Valecrest, Countess of Valewood, Lady of Castle Valewood.”

  She stepped back with a polite smile, and the king turned his attention toward the girls’ table. His gaze landed on a boy—maybe a year or two older than the princess—who only noticed after Reika said something to him.

  He stood up without any real formality, barely glancing at the rest of us. He seemed far more interested in Reika, practically glued to her side. She gave him a stiff smile that said she wasn’t sure if she should move away or freeze in place.

  “My son,” the king introduced, though his voice carried a pointed edge and his glare made it clear the boy’s behavior wasn’t exactly approved.

  “Yes, hello, heroes,” the boy said with a quick, dismissive dip of his head. “This one is prince Alistair Caradoc of House Valecrest, Count of Ornfeld, Lord of Castle Ornfeld.”

  Before anyone could reply—or even process all those titles—he sat back down and immediately resumed talking to Reika like nothing else in the world mattered. Reika kept her polite, strained smile, but even from across the table, I could tell she was screaming for help with her eyes.

  The king’s eyes flicked toward his son, and for a moment, the warmth from earlier vanished. His storm-grey gaze sharpened, and his jaw tightened ever so slightly. Alistair, oblivious, was still leaning toward Reika, talking animatedly as if the rest of the hall didn’t exist.

  “Alistair,” the king said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. The kind of calm that made everyone instinctively straighten up. “Perhaps you should address our guests with the respect they are due before resuming your… conversation.”

  Alistair finally blinked, realizing he’d been singled out, and straightened up. He shot a quick, reluctant glance at the king but didn’t entirely hide the smirk that suggested he found the situation more amusing than intimidating.

  The princess shifted slightly, fidgeting in her seat, clearly aware of the tension but unwilling—or perhaps too polite—to intervene.

  We all exchanged glances at the middle table. Honestly, it was hard not to notice the subtle shift in the room. The king’s authority wasn’t just in his titles or presence; it was in moments like this—the quiet, sharp correction that left even the boldest heir slightly uneasy.

  Alistair cleared his throat. “My apologies, heroes,” he said quickly, dipping his head more formally this time, though the smirk never fully left his face. The king relaxed slightly, returning his attention to the meal in front of him, though I could tell he was still keeping a watchful eye on his son.

  “I am truly sorry about him,” the king said, his voice calm but carrying a trace of frustration.

  We all waved it off with politely murmuring. “No harm done, your majesty,” Uncle Terry said with a nod. “We all know how it feels.”

  Trayn stared at him as the king gave a slow nod, though I could still see it in his eyes—like he’d just tasted something bitter. A hint of annoyance mixed with concern lingered there, the kind only a parent could carry when dealing with a unruly borderline disrespectful child.

  After a quiet moment, and a sigh, the king excused himself, standing gracefully before returning back to his table. The princess, however, stayed behind. She sat beside Wills’s father, lowering her voice as she began talking about something his wife had mentioned—probably related to breakfast or the kitchen situation, though we couldn’t quite hear the details.

  We watched for a moment, unsure whether to intrude or wait it out. Her posture was polite but relaxed, the kind that suggested she was used to negotiating small matters in a room full of adults. Wills’s father leaned in slightly, listening carefully, nodding in response every now and then.

  After that, the maids began setting breakfast on the tables. Surprisingly, the food looked close to something from back home. There was roasted chicken, shredded beef mixed with small cube-cut potatoes, a platter of fried eggs, slices of cheese, a jar of honey, and a bowl of fruit that looked like oversized lychees. Small bowls of assorted nuts were scattered along the table as well.

  The smell alone was enough to make my stomach grumble.

  We loaded our plates with the meat, and Wills’s eyes lit up.

  “Yup, Mom made this,” he said proudly.

  “This?” I asked, taking a tentative bite. Oh wow. That was actually delicious. The saltiness, with the hint of pepper and the texture of the potatoes mixed very well.

  “Uhuh,” he confirmed. “Pepper Corned beef.”

  Trayn and I exchanged a glance, and he leaned in. “The corned beef we’re used to is something else—corned beef with cabbage, potatoes, and carrots. Usually for St. Patrick’s Day.”

  “That’s the commemoration for Ireland’s patron saint, right?” Wills added, and we nodded. “This,” he continued, gesturing to the food, “is a breakfast staple from our country—just corned beef and potatoes or our version of corned beef. Though I could really go for some rice with it.”

  A few others, like Taka, murmured their agreement. Considering how much rice is a staple in Japan and the Philippines, that wasn’t surprising.

  Despite the differences, though, it was actually quite good for a morning meal in another world. The flavors were comforting, familiar enough to remind us of home, even while the surroundings screamed, we were far from it.

  Overall, though, it was not bad for a morning in another world.