We spent several hours labouring over the essay. It was harder than the previous ones for the one reason that neither of us wanted to actually put into writing what the paper required to pass the course.

I’d written all the reasons why genocide was not a good idea, but I couldn’t leave the other side blank, or I’d leave the course incomplete and I’d have to waste my time getting a whole other degree. All it required was one sentence.

But even one measly sentence justifying genocide was one too many in my opinion. Surely, I could find a way to bend the rules. I just needed to think of something.

“Ugh, this is so stupid,” I said, abandoning my desk to trawl through the shelves again in the hopes that another book would provide me with an idea. There was so much content here but so much of it was utter garbage. I couldn’t read the higher-level books, which were identified by runes on their spine. Many of them required a much higher level than I would achieve until I’d managed several more papers.

When I came to the end of the row, I found a spiral bound notebook that looked different to the others. Every other book had an ornate leather-bound cover with gothic text down the spine and a level number at the base, colour coded to the subject matter that they contained. This looked like one of the old books I’d used in high school.

I flicked it open and recognized James’ messy chicken scratch immediately. There was a sketch of a dwarf with a few notes next to it. I flicked another page. There were sketches of three different elves. A wood elf that looked very much like Bastion with his hair slightly curling, a high elf with totally straight hair and a dark elf that looked much like Nightfall. Tall, proud, dark, and wearing a permanent frown.

Was this one of the source books that James had built this world from?

I flicked another page and found a picture of a succubus with gigantic breasts. My stomach churned again. This was me when I’d first come into this world before I’d made my modifications. The same stupid oversized breasts and the same stupid threadbare costume.

I slid the book into my bag to peruse later and returned to my desk. Surely, I could come up with some kind of bullshit answer to satisfy the rules of the degree.

I glared at my paper.

“Just write it,” Nightfall said from my side, sounding defeated. “I won’t take it personally. I will complete a different course, but I will not be offended if you want to proceed with this one to unlock your achievement.”

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I reached over and snatched his paper. “I’ll write yours too. It’s just one line, right? One sentence.”

I scribbled my answer on both pages and handed it back. Nightfall took the page gingerly and read it, his tense frown going slack.

I’d written: There would be less content in this stupid course, which would make it shorter and therefore better.

Nightfall’s lips twitched. He didn’t smile as such, but his expression lost some of its coolness when he looked at me.

“Thank you.”

“No probs. Let’s go get those points.”

We missed the classroom hours by seconds, and the doors shut in front of us even as I saw Professor Prindous standing by his desk.

“Dammit,” I cursed, and pounded on the door. “Let us in! I want my goddamn smart points!”

“Emma, stop,” Nightfall said calmly behind me. I turned and slumped down against the door, fatigued. He watched me curiously, then offered me a hand. “Come, I’ll take you to my quarters and you can have some refreshments. It has been a long day.”

“I’ve got cinnamon rolls if you want to share,” I said, shoving my paper into my satchel and taking his hand. I had like, two hundred or so stuffed into my bag since I’d discovered the physics of my satchel were just as messed up as Bruiser’s carry bag.

Nightfall led me to the student dormitories, which were in a long hallway with rooms that led off one side and a glass wall that overlooked another concrete courtyard on the other. As dusk crept across the sky and the first couple of stars began twinkling, the ornate torches that lined the walls ignited with blue flames as if by magic.

“Magic or programming,” I muttered, giving the torches a wistful look. The notebook I had stolen from the library filled me with unease. I’d had inklings about this world for a while now, but this was something that felt important, and I feared my happy ending might slip away from me yet.

I wanted this to be like a cozy farming sim, but I knew somehow I’d be forced to go on another adventure. This was James’ fantasy world, after all, not mine.

“In here,” he said, opening the door to a room and gesturing for me to enter.

It was sparsely decorated with a generously sized bed against the wall, a desk covered with books and papers, and a bookshelf against the wall. There was a dresser as well, and some armour and weapons arranged tidily I the corner, but that was the extent of his possessions.

I took a seat at his desk as he tidied his papers and retrieved a platter of cinnamon buns from my bag.

“How many of those are you carrying around?” Nightfall asked, sounding startled.

“A couple hundred,” I grinned at him. “They’re like, my favourite food. Besides, I don’t want to ever run out and get stuck eating something gross. And why not carry a supply with me since food never goes off here? It’s not like I’ve got to buy them fresh every time.”

Nightfall gave me another appraising look. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Pointing out the absurdities of this world.”

“Apparently I have a talent for it,” I shrugged.

“Yes, well,” Nightfall picked up one of the cinnamon rolls and studied it. “I think I will need you for my research after all. There is no question about it in my mind now. You must help me.”

The full intensity of his ambition suddenly focused on me like a laser, and I felt a shiver go down my spine. Despite the coolness of his personality, I could tell he had a fire burning in him that refused to be put out.