With a tired expression, I opened my eyes to find myself in an unfamiliar room. The bed I was sitting on was soft and oddly comforting, but everything around me felt foreign. As I glanced around, my eyes were met with walls covered in anime posters—colorful, detailed illustrations of characters I vaguely recognized, though the room itself felt detached from any memory I could place.
In the corner, seated at a desk cluttered with notebooks and pens, was a girl with striking silver hair. Her posture was relaxed but focused as she scribbled something with intense concentration. The soft scratching of her pen filled the otherwise quiet room. She seemed oddly familiar, her features resembling someone that kept haunting my dream. However, there was something different—she looked much younger than the college classmate I remembered, almost like a high school version of her.
“Furukawa Shiro…?” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to hear me.
I could see her head twitch ever so slightly at the sound of my voice, a subtle reaction that confirmed she had heard me. Yet, despite my quiet utterance, her gaze remained fixed on the desk in front of her. Her pen continued to glide across the paper, the faint scratching sound filling the stillness of the room.
It was as if she was deliberately avoiding looking at me, choosing instead to immerse herself in whatever she was writing. The air grew heavier with an unspoken tension, and I couldn’t decide if I should say something more or let the silence stretch on. My heart pounded in my chest, unsure of what her reaction—or lack of one—meant.
I stood up from the bed, my legs feeling slightly shaky beneath me. My eyes drifted toward a mirror hanging on the wall. Hesitant, I stepped closer, almost afraid of what I might see. But there it was—my usual self staring back at me. Not Mashiro’s silver hair, pink-tipped ears, or frilly dress. Just me. My ordinary reflection. The girl I was before all of this began.
“What... are you doing there?” I asked, my voice shaky as I looked at Furukawa Shiro.
She didn’t even turn her head, her silver hair falling softly over her shoulders as her gaze remained fixed on the desk. Without missing a beat, she replied, “Homework.”
Not knowing what to do, I let my eyes wander aimlessly around the room. A guitar leaned against the corner, its polished surface reflecting the faint glow of the desk lamp. Nearby, a vase of delicate flowers sat on a shelf, their colors muted in the dim lighting. My gaze shifted to a collection of anime figurines arranged meticulously on another shelf, each one standing proudly as though guarding the space.
On her shelves, my eyes fell on a familiar ball. My breath hitched as I recognized it. It was the same one Catherine had shown me before, back in the other world. The swirling designs, the faint shimmer when light hit its surface, everything about it was the same.
I took a hesitant step closer, almost afraid that the ball might vanish if I reached for it. My fingers hovered near its surface, but I didn’t touch it. Instead, I simply stared, as if it might reveal some hidden truth to me if I looked hard enough.
"What... is this doing here?" I muttered, my voice barely audible.
Finally, Furukawa Shiro turned her head, her gaze landing on me as I stood frozen in front of the ball. There was a subtle shift in her expression, an unreadable glint in her eyes. It was as if she was assessing whether I was about to do something reckless or if she simply didn’t want me touching her belongings.
“It’s called Astralyte Core,” she said, her voice heavier than usual, as if the topic carried some weight. “A friend gave it to me for my birthday. It’s just a souvenir from one of those anime conventions.”
I reached out tentatively, mimicking the same motion I had made with Catherine's ball earlier. The moment my fingers made contact with the crystal, a strange hum vibrated through my hand. Almost immediately, a wall of text materialized in front of me, as if summoned by the touch.
Name : Shimizu Mikan
Level : 1 (EXP 75/100)
Class : Gacha Player
Age : 19
Race : Human
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
[STATS]
Health Points : 100/100 [100%]
Mana : 20/20
Physical Attack : 10 (+3)
Magical Attack : 0
Defence : 2
Agility : 12
[SKILLS]
Identification Lv. 1 (Common), The Circle of Butterflies Lv. 1 (Legendary), Swallowtail Butterfly Lv. 1 (Rare)
[TITLE]
Gacha Addict!
[WEAPONS]
Physical Attack +3
[INVENTORY]
25 Gold coins
15 Silver coins
Wooden doll
The interface lingered for a moment, but as I pulled my hand away from the crystal, the wall of text faded. The only noticeable difference was the new skill—Swallowtail Butterfly—along with a section now showing an inventory.
Furukawa Shiro's brow furrowed as she examined the crystal ball, her fingers tapping against it with growing frustration. Her eyes shifted from the ball to me, then back again, confusion swirling in her gaze. Still, she tried to calm herself by taking a big breath.
"Shiro! Come downstairs! Dinner's ready," called a warm, welcoming voice from below.
Without a word, Furukawa Shiro stood up from her chair, her movements smooth and practiced. She reached for the door, and I, somewhat hesitantly, followed her from behind.
I stood there in silence, feeling like an outsider in this strange new world. Furukawa Shiro sat at the table, her posture casual as she grabbed the rice and began to eat. Her mother, an older version of Shiro with similar silver hair, was already digging into her meal as well, completely absorbed in the quiet rhythm of dinner.
They didn't acknowledge my presence—no glances, no questions, nothing. It was as if I were a ghost, lingering in the corner of the room with no place to belong. The sound of their chopsticks tapping against the rice was the only thing that broke the silence, and it only served to emphasize how disconnected I felt from this domestic scene.
I shifted uncomfortably, still standing awkwardly by the doorway. My mind raced, trying to find something to say or do, but no words came. Should I sit down? Should I speak up? It felt like I was waiting for permission to exist in this space, but the absence of any invitation made everything feel strange.
Her mother glanced over at Shiro, a gentle smile on her face as she asked, "So, how’s school going?"
Furukawa Shiro barely looked up from her plate, her voice flat and tinged with annoyance as she replied, "Yeah, fine."
Her mother, unfazed by the short answer, smiled warmly. "That's good. You've been working so hard lately. I just hope you're not pushing yourself too much."
Furukawa Shiro didn't respond immediately, instead taking a bite of her rice with a distracted look on her face. Her mother's voice softened as she continued, "Remember, it's okay to take breaks. You don't need to be perfect all the time."
There was a brief silence before Shiro muttered, almost too quietly to hear, "I know."
The atmosphere between them remained calm, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something unsaid lingering in the air. It was as if Shiro's responses, though polite, carried a weight of frustration that she was trying to hide.
I felt even more like an outsider now, standing there, watching this quiet exchange between them. I couldn't help but wonder—was I intruding on something personal? Something I wasn't supposed to witness?
Her mother’s smile remained warm, but her questions kept coming, one after another, like a constant stream of concern. "How was school today? Have you been getting enough sleep? Is everything going well with your friends?"
Furukawa Shiro’s expression darkened slightly, her annoyance slipping through despite her attempts to remain composed. "Mom... Please." She glanced at me for just a moment, her gaze lingering for a split second before turning back to her plate. "I stopped hallucinating."