The phone started ringing again. I looked at it full of hope that it was Ma or Pa calling me, but it was Hew. I sighed tiredly: the next one that wants to give me the pass! If my own family behaves like this, what am I to expect from strangers? How long did I know him? Less than a month?

My best friend, Lola, had just betrayed me, and we had been friends since kindergarten. All those years that we spent together, all those plans and dreams we shared, all that did count for nothing after I got that damn license.

I closed the phone and shut it down. Do friends really exist in this world? Does family really matter, or is it just an illusion we tell ourselves?

I lost half an hour just staring into space. If they do this when they hear that I have a prostitute license, what would they do when they learn what I am? That thought sent a shiver down my spine.

What I am! I looked at my tired face in the mirror. My makeup was a catastrophe; tears had drawn dark lines that marred my face, and the dark circles around my eyes had their own dark circles around them.

Up above my forehead, two small horn stubs were mockingly and defiantly coming out of my mutinous hair. I mooed at my image and chuckled sadly: enough self-pity!

Then I started packing my things. I did not really possess much. My PC was busted, and my dream interface was likewise. I had some clothes, some money, my ID card. I took my prostitute license in my hand. At first, I wanted to rip it, burn it, explode it, but then I decided to keep it. Maybe I'll put it in a frame in my room sometime; it should remind me of these life-changing events.

I felt emotionally drained, as if everything had been vacuum-cleaned out of me, and a new cold and empty Lores was replacing me.

Where should I put my things? Should I leave everything here? No! How to leave? On foot? And where to? With 10 bags around me? Leave some things here and take them later?

The best would be to take the bike; it was the fastest and easiest way for me to travel, and it was simple to park it almost anywhere. I'll arrange the transactions for it with Gonzo later; I'm sure we will find a way. But if I go on the bike, there's not much I could transport with it. I didn't want to be forced to come back here, but neither did I want to throw away everything. I didn't have much; should I go away with even less?

There were two small containers that I could attach to my bike. I would need to cut loose most of my attire... Books! My books! My science-fiction and fantasy books represented half my childhood! I had proper paperback books! Should I give up on them? They were only baggage to carry with me, but I did take them from home! What for? Just to dump them here?

Hmm, a dimensional ring would be really helpful, or at least a usable inventory item, but Cala's inventory did not want to open for me. I was still reluctant to throw it away, but I could not use it. Cala's leather armor! I'm taking it with me! Her boots, too! Damn, the place would be already full with these two items!

White Flower had a dimensional storage on her skin as a tattoo. She hadn't done it herself, but she thought she could do it. I mean, I have seen it so many times that I thought I could redo it. Should I try to do it? All I risk is to fail and... probably explode myself... and the vicinity... OK, I'll survive and maybe just destroy a couple of houses around. Or maybe more... What would happen if I would create an unstable dimension? Maybe I would die and be reborn as a dungeon core? What other crazy thing could happen to me?

I chuckled at the random thoughts. Could I do such a spell?

I felt confident that I knew it, but maybe I did not have enough mana to complete it... Should I try? It would be so useful to have it! White Flower's one had endured a lot, only for that final explosion in the death node to blow everything apart!

I looked at my left hand. Should I? I already saw the runes dancing in the air, but yet I feared whether to implement them or not. The runes! All magic schools teach about runes, each fighting to claim which are the real, better runes, but I knew better. These were patterns, magic patterns that were approximated by runes.

The runes did not fully cover the magic manifestation, and that was one of the limits of scholar magic, the limit that White Flower was sure to have overcome.

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The pattern's magic was what most people would call a school of wild magic, but wild magic would give much to magic itself to interpret. Unlike wild magic, White Flower knew how to recognize and implement patterns. It was a more controlled wild magic and more powerful than scholar magic.

I closed my eyes to better perceive the runes, or rather, the patterns. You could start with runes and then let it develop further to reach the patterns. A smile crept onto my lips as I willed it, and I felt the patterns snaking around my hand.

And in an instant, I was out of mana, and I was still casting. Fuck! I knew I might not have enough mana! No, I was confident I could spell it! What now? Will I blow up my hand now? I let myself be dragged into it, and now I'm not able to complete it!

I feared to let go because of the potential backlash. However, as the spell had not canceled itself yet, I might try to do it like those huge summoning spells: keep gathering mana to let it get to the needed power. The only difference was that I did not have the runes written on the floor; I had to keep them in mind.

I did not let my concentration fade; I kept thinking of the patterns as I drove every ounce of mana from my body toward the spell. Maybe I can still salvage the situation; I just need to provide the missing magic.

Ten minutes later, with sweat running down my temples, the spell was still incomplete, and I began to worry that I might lose concentration, risking an explosive backlash. Fifteen minutes later, the realization dawned on me that the longer I kept it, the worse the potential backlash would be. My hand was trembling, and I had to sit on the bed, still struggling to maintain the image firmly in my mind.

As time passed, I contemplated all kinds of stupid ideas to try to cut my losses. Should I stand in front of the window and extend my hand outside? Would that help? Should I run outside in the park? Could I keep my concentration while running? Why did I try it here? Just then, I felt the spell starting to coagulate—it was completing!

I closed my eyes, focusing solely on the patterns, not allowing anything to disturb me until I sensed it was done. After keeping my eyes closed for a couple of moments, I opened them to examine my hand. To my relief, it was still intact, covered in a set of strange, alien lines forming an intricate design.

I slipped off the bed and fell hard on my backside on the floor. I was that tired, but the lines didn't explode. The spell was done.

I chuckled, looking at my hand. Even if it didn't work as intended, I would have the most unique tattoo I'd ever seen—well, except for the one on White Flower's belly, but I chose the hand.

Breathing heavily, I tried to recover. Would it work now, or would it be just for decoration?

Feeling too tired and low on mana to try it immediately, I went to the bathroom and took a long shower—I know of nothing better to recoup after physical efforts.

Invigorated, I returned to my room. As my mana was trickling back slowly, I placed my hand on a book on the table and willed it into my storage. The book lit up briefly as if replaced by a luminous construct and disappeared. Glancing at my tattoo, I decided to look through the runes, and at that moment, I saw a transparent book hanging in the air. I willed it out, and it appeared back in my hand.

This lifted my spirits. To witness the wonders of magic and to be able to control them was refreshing! I wasn't entirely useless, not the defeated girl they all seemed to think I was.

Sure, I almost destroyed the neighborhood, but it was worth it, wasn't it?

I repeated the exercise with more things. Magic is such a cool thing! It was strangely satisfying to see those items briefly illuminated in the air and then disappear.

This changed the situation regarding what I could take with me. I started packing everything, including my tattered bed, table, chair, and even the busted PC. I went to the kitchen, but Clara was no longer there. I collected my dishes and my chairs. The girls would have to buy a couple of chairs themselves. I emptied the fridge, then returned to my room, did another check, and headed to the bathroom. Check. I had everything.

"Bye, Clara! Hope to never see you again!" I yelled.

"Bye!" Joe's voice echoed from her room.

A burst of laughter escaped me; I had forgotten about him.

"Bye, Joe!"

I left my keys on the kitchen table and exited, slamming the door behind me. It was already late night outside. I took the bike and drove out of town on the almost deserted streets.

I would send Gonzo the money for it later on. The bike offered me the freedom to go where I needed to go now, and I didn't want to give up on it. Hopefully, the songs we already have would at least pay for the bike.

The cold wind battling my face was invigorating; my hair fluttering in the wind was almost chanting: freedom! I almost screamed it out of my lungs. I pushed the bike to raise on the back wheel. Oh yeah, baby!