“You’ve improved rather quickly, darling! This is much better than your previous work!”

Once again, I found myself at Gillen and Ennin’s home, all of their family members present.

Finding something to do during my free time was a bit challenging for me. I felt homesick, as I missed the convenience and ease that was offered by the Internet. Every possible option was available at the click of a button. Unlimited movies, television shows, games, novels, entertainment was a never-ending fountain of possibilities.

I couldn’t exactly hang out with friends since one, I didn’t have that many, and two, the ones I did have had different schedules from me, so we couldn’t coordinate and hang out regularly, e.g. Ennin. Honestly, I should have probably felt proud of myself for even making a friend as an adult, even if the process was a bit…passive…on my end.

There were bookstores here, but I didn’t even want to browse their wares, as it was likely I would be tempted to splurge, and I needed to hold onto my savings for the academy.

Just as I was feeling stuck over what I could do, I thought of something I had somehow forgotten: writing.

In some goddamned mysterious mystical bullshit way, I could converse with the inhabitants of this world extremely fluently. And after an equally incomprehensible and puzzling series of events, I somehow became able to read. But I had never had to write before, and I realized that only a few weeks before the academy enrollment began.

When I wrote down whatever questions I had that I wanted or needed answers to, I wrote them in a notebook in English, in my own handwriting. And I discovered, to my chagrin, that English and this world’s native language appeared as two different languages to me. Somehow, I had believed that, similar to when I spoke or read something, whatever I wrote would automatically translate whenever I would need to write something. But that turned out to not be the case. Anyone who saw whatever I wrote in English would see my writing as incomprehensible squiggles, just as I saw this world’s letters.

I experimented a bit with the ‘translation software’, for lack of a better term, to see if I missed something. Writing in English was business as usual, no hiccups. But when I copied the symbols on my Workman’s Society card, writing them in a spare notebook, the symbols themselves appeared as they normally did, in the linear yet oddly curvy letters of the alphabet, before they switched to English in my eyes.

The change was almost instant, maybe taking a second between writing it down fully and the letters swapping to English in my vision. If I tried really, really, hard, I could extend that time to two seconds, but it was useless in the grand scheme of things. I even tried using my blood to write, recalling how I was able to read suddenly when it came into play, but the blood proved to be pointless this time around.

Until I remembered something Khime, that bastard probably-god who pulled me here, showed me. When he injected the memory of how the taming spell worked into my brain, I remembered that the most important part of the spell was the intent behind it. Whenever I used the taming spell, I didn’t have any intent when I did it so much as desire, thinking to myself, ‘I want this creature or animal to submit to me’.

While I went about my daily life in this city, I would occasionally hear snippets of conversation about spells. There were plenty of mages in the Workman’s Society, and all over the city, but they didn’t stand out from the common man, except maybe they seemed a bit more refined. But more to the point, what I had heard and pieced together, was that intent seemed to be an important factor in the success or failure of a spell.

Following that logic, if I could harness my intent, would it affect the translation spell in a manner I desired if my intent was strong or pure enough?

I was a little scared of tampering with the spell, as it was the only thing that made communication viable. But if a magical spell, that someone who was most likely a god gave to me, could be broken by something that a clueless idiot did, again like me, then they might have to give up their godhood.

So, convincing myself that the spell was not so fragile that it would break with the slightest tampering, I tried to channel my intent while writing. I thought to myself, this spell will work as I will it to. It will only translate when I say it will. I focused on my desire to have the spell keep all its capabilities, except that I would dictate when it worked or didn’t work.

Which is how I found myself in Ennin’s family home.

My intent modification of the translation spell worked after only three tries, and so I began practicing writing, knowing I didn’t have long before the enrollment date arrived. Gillen found me practicing in the inn, and the next thing I knew, I was being coached by Evelyn in basic writing alongside Gillen.

“Wow, Rhaaj, I can actually read your writing now! Remember at the start, Mommy kept saying your letters looked like a horse!” Gillen exclaimed.

“Horrific, baby, horrific,” Evelyn corrected him patiently.

“Yeah, horse-sif-fic. But now it looks like mine! Mine isn’t horse-sif-fic, though, right mommy?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“No, baby, your writing is very, very good!” She said, pinching and rolling her son’s cheeks while he giggled. After she got tired of that, Evelyn turned to me and asked, “Rhaaj, darling, while your writing is much more legible now, did you not practice penmanship or calligraphy with Lady Ryfellin? I thought you had studied under her? Surely she would have covered the fundamentals?”

“She covered the basics regarding proper conduct and speech, as that was my biggest concern at the time, but I only realized my writing...problem…after she had already left, and by then, it was too late. Or at least, that’s what I thought until little Gillen here ran into me! Isn’t that right, Gill?” I said, ruffling his hair and smiling.

“Oh! Right! He was just sitting by himself writing the letters, Mommy! And you said me or Ennie should bring him home whenever he was free, so I did!” He said, looking proud.

“You are so good, baby!” She said, kissing Gillen all over his face. “Now, if only your sister could bring someone home as well,” Evelyn muttered.

I coughed and blushed, ducking my head down, a bit embarrassed at what I just heard. I may have been on good terms with Evelyn and her family, but I didn’t want to butt into their private affairs.

At least, not without being as polite as possible while also satisfying my curiosity. It took losing the Internet entirely for me to understand the allure of gossip. It was the main form of entertainment for the lower and middle classes.

“Um, I’m sorry for asking something so…crude…Madam-” A pointed glare interrupted what I was about to say. “I mean, Evelyn.” She relaxed her face and smiled again, nodding for me to continue. “But, does Ennin not have any, you know, suitors?”

“Oh? You wouldn’t happen to be asking due to an…interest in that position, now would you?” She asked me, a faint smile on her face.

“What?” I was confused. Until the realization of what she said dawned on me, and I rushed to defend myself.

“NO! Ahem, I mean, no. With all due respect…Evelyn…I see her more as a friend. Just a friend. Also, I plan to travel after I finish my studies, and I think Ennin has a different path she wants to take in her life. And,” I said somewhat nervously, “You all have helped me so much since I came here. I already owe you plenty, and I feel like doing…that, would just be taking advantage of the kindness you’ve all given me, to Ennin especially. So, I’m sorry, Evelyn, but I must respectfully decline.” I bowed my head, to convey my seriousness.

While I was not averse to romance in general, I had never had the best experiences in that area. Maybe later, when I figured out the craziness that was my life, I could look into it, but for now? I needed to see how far I could go, literally and figuratively. And while it was true that me and Ennin had a vibe, it wasn’t romantic. At least, not for me.

Evelyn maintained her straight face for a few seconds, until she broke down in laughter, almost tearing up.

“Oh, darling, I was kidding! It was a joke! Oh, the look on your face! And that speech! So serious!” She waved me off, laughing the entire time, relieving the tension. I was a bit worried that she actually wanted me as her son-in-law, and I panicked, maybe slightly overreacting.

“Well, in any case, that girl will settle down when she’s ready to, and not a day sooner, regardless of what her father or I have to say on the subject.”

“What’s settle down, mommy? And why did Rhaaj yell out before?” Gill made his presence known, curious as ever.

“Mummy will tell you later, baby. Go on, back to practice. And you too, Rhaaj. Enough of this playing around.” Evelyn went back into ‘mom mode’ and I let go of the levity of two seconds ago, resuming my writing drills.

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

Tomorrow was the big day.

I would be able to join the academy in less than twenty-four hours. I still didn’t know the name of the academy, but I figured it wouldn’t be that big a deal. An institution as important as the academy would most certainly have someone to spread their name.

I laid on the bed in my room at the inn, staring at the wooden ceiling, hands behind my head.

I was capable of speaking, reading, and writing the language here. I was rather proud of my achievement, not only of learning a new language, somewhat on my own which I thought I would be incapable of, but also of not completely messing up the translation spell, and managing to change it to fit my desire, or intent as it were.

I had enough money to cover all the fees, quadruple-checking with the academy notice, while having enough pocket money to last, at the bare minimum, a few weeks. I owned enough clothes and supplies to last two weeks without having to wash them. I had two days worth of packed meals and a full waterskin in my satchel, the most I could get from the inn’s kitchen without it going bad. There was supposedly a preservation spell that was meant for similar situations, but no one at the inn knew it.

The one thing I had never bought was a weapon. I never did any combat or hunting tasks, so I didn’t see the need to buy one. The city itself was very safe, with crime being nearly non-existent, not counting the embezzler, so I didn’t need a weapon for protection either.

I still had the bone knife that I started my journey with in my pack, and that seemed to be enough for now.

I also had a mostly empty beast space, only filled with the two voranders, the goblin and the werewolf, and the green deer that had an actual healing spell in addition to the anesthetic spell it used on me during our first encounter. Hopefully, I would get some answers regarding the mechanics of that taming spell at the academy.

One of my notebooks was filled with questions about magic, both specific to me and on general subjects. Those I wrote in English, in case someone else saw them.

Somehow, the black robe that covered me up my first few days was still in one piece, if extremely frayed and torn on the edges. A tailor had examined it when I wore it while visiting their store, and she noticed the enchantment on it. She was unsure what it did, but it raised the value of the robe significantly.

So the robe I thought of even now as ratty yet functional turned out to be valuable. Funny how things turned out. Especially when a certain someone neglected to inform you of what was in the pack that they threw at you from an orca’s mouth.

Someday, I would get strong enough and slap Khime. That would be my long-term goal. A powerful motivator, if ever there was one.

I closed my eyes, putting my thoughts of petty vengeance aside, relaxing as I subconsciously sunk into my breathing meditation, feeling the essence travel through me, both within and without. I drifted off to sleep eventually, truly relaxed and calm, looking forward to what the next day could bring me.

I woke up as I normally did, well before sunrise. The early morning was still icy, despite it being technically spring. I loaded my rucksack and satchel onto my shoulders, double checking I had everything on me, then closed the door to my room. I turned in the room key to the owner, who sat at what I called the reception counter, and officially checked out of the inn.

She shooed me off, and I headed to the bathhouse. I had already said my goodbyes to everyone I could think of, and all that was left was to head to the center of the city after bathing. Once I got myself squeaky clean, having purchased and liberally used heaps of herbal powder that acted as soap, I walked to the city center, ready to start the next chapter of my life.

Just as the first rays of the sun peeked out from the east, I could see the faux-streetlight torches begin to darken, and I saw a crowd of people milling about at my destination. It was obvious that everyone was here for the academy.

With any luck, my experiences with education would not repeat themselves in another world.