I’m woken by the ringing of a massive bell. The bed shakes, and the undersized sheets slide up, exposing my feet to the cool morning air.

I get up and dress in the ceremonial gown I’ve been wearing since yesterday. I look ridiculous, but it’s better than the too-small robes they gave me when I was first summoned.

My stomach churns, expecting food, but there’s nothing to satisfy it. A morning meal would be nice, but as a prisoner, that’s out of the question.

I turn the door handle, and to my surprise, it’s unlocked. Apparently, they figured two armed guards staring at me would be enough.

"Can I use the bathroom?" I ask. They glance at each other before nodding.

The latrine is clean. Used to modern comforts, I’ve never had to do my business while squatting. Or wiped with… hay? I suppose it makes sense; toilet paper wasn’t always around.

The space is compact, with a small barred window near the ceiling. By tiptoeing, I can just see through it. Outside is a courtyard with a fountain, a few trees, and priests chatting and sitting on benches. Not an escape route, that’s for sure.

Having finished my business, I exit, and the guards outside urge me back to my room. At least it’s a chance to memorize the cathedral’s layout—or at least the path to the latrine.

I ask the guards, "Can I speak with Laura?" They don’t respond.

With nothing better to do, my attention returns to the worn-out book. After a brief examination, I noticed that the script resembles Latin. I counted 26 distinct characters, just like the English alphabet. The pages are numbered, and the numerals are similar to Arabic ones, though they look slightly different. If I can figure out how each letter sounds, I could potentially read it. I need to find a way to contact Laura.

One, two, three… four. Four is the limit. It’s been about an hour since my latrine adventure, and I’ve already lost my mind—I’m torturing myself by doing… push-ups.

Laying on my stomach, gasping for air, I feel a small sense of accomplishment. The last time I did push-ups was during gym class, and that was years ago. I didn’t think I’d manage even one, let alone four.

Maybe I should have asked the Goddess to return me to my world instead of giving me Red Water. If people can be summoned, surely they can be sent back.

What’s done is done. At least Red Water, if developed, could prove useful. Why were the clergy so outraged by that red drop anyway? Strength is developed, not stagnant. Or do they not know that? Maybe that book holds some answers.

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Laura is the only one who might help me. She’s the only person here whose name I know. If I were to meet her, say, in the latrine, she could teach me to read.

But she did seem distant after I left the dark chamber. I wonder, if she learned of Red Water, would she see it as blasphemous too?

“I wish to speak with him” I hear a voice from behind the door. I quickly get up and press my ear against the door.

“None may talk to the hero, high priest’s orders” One of the guards responds.

It’s Laura! She did come for me. Time to act. “I haven’t been served breakfast this morning, will you let the great hero starve?” I shout.

“See?” she says. “Someone has to bring him food—also the high priest’s orders.” I can practically feel her smirk through the door.

“Thank you, Laura, I love you,” I say, jokingly.

Ally acquired. Alone, no more. This is going to be easier than I thought. Our contact may be brief and infrequent, but it’s better than nothing.

About ten minutes pass as I pace around the room, hands behind my back, head down, thinking of what to ask. I await Laura.

A knock breaks the silence, and I perk up, opening the door. I see Laura for the first time today. My smile fades when I notice she doesn’t look happy.

She hands me a bowl of porridge, her gaze sharp and scornful. What did I do?

“One must not throw the word ‘love’ around lightly,” she says, turning her head to the side.

Ah, makes sense. I should be more mindful of what I say—these cultural differences are more prevalent than I initially thought. "Sorry," I say.

My mind refocuses on my plan. I need to make every interaction count.

"What are you two lovebirds talking about?" the guard from behind the door chimes in.

“Leave some paper and something to write with in the latrine down the hall,” I manage to say before the guard opens the door.

I wave goodbye as the guard escorts her out of the room. “See you at lunch.” She waves back, a comically fake smile on her face.

Sorry, Laura, but we’ll have to play the lovebirds for now. It’s perfect—if the guards view our “relationship” sympathetically, they might grant us some leniency. If not, we can easily cover our interactions under the guise of mutual attraction.

Left alone again with a bowl of porridge in hand and my trusty wooden spoon soaked in it, I prepare to dig in. “Thanks for the food!” I shout, hoping she can hear me.

The blandness of the food makes it difficult to finish, even on an empty stomach. How I miss you, pizza, but our relationship must come to an end—it’s for the best.

I summon Red Water again, and it returns to around 10 milliliters. I practice manipulating it for as long as I can. After about an hour, it evaporates completely, and I’m unable to summon it again. I’ll train again at the same time tomorrow.

Thinking enough time has passed—and because I need to pee—I ask the guards for permission to visit the latrine again.

The moment the latrine door closes, I begin my search. Tucked between the floorboards, I find four neatly folded pieces of paper and… nothing else. Of course, pencils haven’t been invented yet, and hiding a bottle of ink wouldn’t be easy.

“Thank you, Laura,” I whisper.

After finishing my business, I hide the paper in my underwear and head back to my quarters. But what will I write with?