The mage scrutinized me.

"That woman is a notorious seductress. She's known for taking advantage of men and then stealing their money. Our friend was tricked by her and driven to his death, so we're trying to stop her before she can move to a new city and hide her identity. We may look rough, but we're a group of locals trying to get justice for our community; she's wanted dead or alive."

A reasonable story given the highly suspicious circumstances. Them being a ragtag local group would explain why they looked rough and were wearing diverse but cheap armors like bandits. It wasn't as if bandits had a uniform or a monopoly on trying to look intimidating. It didn't explain the way they moved, however.

"Don't listen to them. That's not true!" The woman exclaimed.

"Oh?"

As if scared she wouldn't get the chance to speak, she nearly tripped over her words in her haste.

"I'm the daughter of the owners of a major shipping company. I have no reason to steal from men. I don't know why, but they killed all my guards and are trying to kill me!"

Verifying their stories would be easy enough when we got to the city, so I suggested going there. It was pretty clear the mage was only taking a shot in the dark to try to get me to drop my guard, because he promptly attacked.

I didn't really want to get involved but I didn't want to leave some random person to die either, especially when saving her would be both easy and potentially advantageous.

I grabbed her and ran a quick series of short distance teleports until we lost her pursuers.

Then, I brought her to the city.

Her parents acted incredibly grateful and, upon discovering that I was from out of town, offered me a luxurious room to stay in as long as I wanted.

For the first time since I'd arrived, nobody was trying to kidnap me and I had a secure place to stay.

I couldn't relax. There were still people targeting me who would be on me as soon as they discovered who I was. There was still the question of how I got here and the issue of the prophesied invasion that I was summoned to fight.

But just for a moment, I wanted to imagine that everything was fine.

----------------------------------------

"I'm sorry, Solomon. I took too long. Finally, you can be safe."

I had never been safe before. It was a novel feeling.

"I took care of all the paperwork, so tomorrow will be your first day of school. I know it's a bit late to start, but I think it'll be good for you," Johan said.

"I already understand the curriculum contents."

"That really isn't the point. Besides, it's a specialized arts school. You haven't done much of that. Go and try to see what it's like being a normal teenager."

"The supposed benefits of this escape me, but since it's your request, I will attend."

"Good. Maria's little sister also goes there. Her name's Samara, so keep an eye out."

Maria was Johan's lover. They'd been secretly seeing each other for a while, but now they could spend all the time together that they wanted.

The next morning, Johan dropped me off. This is the story of the first time I was truly happy.

I was introduced as a transfer student who was previously home-schooled.

Some of the courses were incredibly tedious, but being surrounded by regular humans in my age group was disorienting.

A group of mostly girls invited me to eat lunch with them. I had never properly interacted with teenage girls before. The one waving me over was extremely attractive.

She had a plump chest and a tastefully made-up face. Her jawline was perfect and her skin was smooth. Even now, I remember her vividly. Her eyes were a luminous brown, the closest I had ever seen in a human to golden eyes. I tried not to stare. Around her, other attractive girls were talking and laughing.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Hey Solomon," she said, "I'm Samara. My sister told me about you."

I wanted to raise an eyebrow and ask her what exactly her sister told her, but I had already told my brother I would go along with his request. I didn't like to half-ass things.

So instead, I smiled at her.

"Hopefully it wasn't anything bad."

"No, of course not!" She blushed a little.

I continued to make superficial polite conversation, reading her emotions and responding appropriately.

I engaged similarly with a few other people in meaningless exchanges of social protocols. It was inane.

This kept on for about a week. None of my peers seemed to dislike me.

"You're doing it wrong," Johan said.

"How so? I believe I have been assimilating perfectly."

"This isn't an exercise in how well you can fit in. Even if you make friends like that, you won't really connect with them. Isn't that lonely?"

"Surely you are not suggesting I do and say whatever I want? I don't think that will be well received."

"There's a middle ground, you know? Don't say things that are overly shocking to strangers, but you don't need to try to be perfect either. Try to find people you can trust. People who you like."

"I think my chances of success are low, but I'll make an effort."

The next week, I came into school early. The library opened two hours before classes started, and I wondered what sorts of people I might find there.

I walked around, and to my surprise, found Samara sitting on the floor. She was reading in a secluded nook, with a stack of books beside her.

I took a closer look. They appeared to be Japanese comics of some sort.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

She startled, smoothly hiding her book.

"Nothing interesting," she said, "I didn't know you came here early."

She clearly didn't want me to ask any more about it. She was the student council president and a model student, so I guess she had reason to maintain her image.

The person I had been pretending to be would go along with her intention to change the topic.

I, however, was curious about what she was reading.

I sat down next to her and picked up one of the comics in the stack.

"Is it good?" I asked, "I've never really had a chance to read something like this before."

She didn't answer, so I opened the book.

After hesitating for a bit, she stood up and grabbed a different book off the shelf.

"Hey," she said, handing it to me, "If you're going to read it anyway, start from the first volume."

As it turned out, it was good. I didn't think I'd care about the fictional struggles of arbitrary figures, but the author was an incredible talent.

The characters drew me in and it didn't take long before I became invested in their stories. Their relationships felt deep, meaningful, and real.

It felt like I had just started reading when the bell rang. Silently, Samara and I gathered up our books and put them back in the shelves.

I was tempted to come back in at lunch to continue reading. However, the library was far more noisy and I was trying to avoid becoming a social outcast, so I waited until after school.

Then, I came in early again the next morning. Samara was there again. I was getting through several volumes a day, but it was a long series.

After a few days of this, Samara finally talked to me after I finished a volume that concluded a beautifully executed character arc.

"It's amazing, isn't it? The way everything falls into place."

I nodded. So many subtleties that could've easily been brushed off all built up to the result. The messaging, too, was insightful and gave me a lot to think about.

Samara's face lit up.

"Right?" She exclaimed in a tone I had never heard from her before, "It's one of my favorite series!"

We started discussing the details we liked, and before I knew it, I was often saying exactly what I was thinking.

Especially of interest was the protagonist's rival, Kai.

I knew it was absurd but, when I read his parts, it somehow felt like the story was written specifically for me. At the start, Kai and I were alike in every way that mattered. His journey, to me, was genuinely moving.

"He came from such an awful place and yet... he..."

It was hard to describe. I was at a loss for words.

Samara was glancing at me with interest.

"Are you crying?" she asked.

I reached up and touched the corners of my eyes. They were wet.

How strange.

Samara and I gradually became true friends. I found myself wanting to talk to her, not out of obligation, but because she was interesting. We started walking home together.

I'd go to her place, or she'd come to mine. Sometimes our siblings would be home as well and they were always happy to make us food. Both my brother and Maria were good cooks.

Eventually, people started to notice that Samara and I seemed close.

I mentioned she was gorgeous and popular, right? I might've been well-liked by the girls, but I was the new kid.

It wasn't long before I was cornered in the changing room by a rather fit guy named Steven and a few of his friends.

They were quite interested in beating the shit out of me.

"You don't want to do this," I said, "It's not worth it."

He laughed and called me an idiotic edgelord who must've watched too much anime or something. I wish. Then he punched me in the stomach.

I would rather not be known around the school and possibly the country for putting several athletes in the hospital—I would have to fight dirty and nasty if I wanted to win—so I focused on defending and made my escape with only a few bruises and a mild wrist fracture.

When I met Samara to walk home together as usual, she looked horrified.

"Was it because of me?"

"No, it was because they were assholes. Listen, I've got a favor to ask of you. I know it sounds weird, but can I stay the night at your place?"

Samara agreed. Johan wasn't over at Maria's place, so I should've been able to avoid him.

Unfortunately, he had a dog's nose for trouble and showed up at her doorstep before we went to bed. I couldn't avoid him.

He looked me up and down, felt my wrist under the long sweater I had donned to cover it, then put his arm around my shoulder.

"Who did this? Tell me their names," my brother's tone was jovial, but his eyes were ice cold.

"Let it go. I'm fine," I said.

"Tell me or I'll find it out myself."

He was telling the truth. If I continued to hide it, he'd go and potentially make a bigger mess before inevitably finding out anyway.

I gave him the names.

The next morning, none of the people who attacked me came to school.