Practice with Red Water is becoming a bit easier each day. I can almost write at a regular pace now, and my letters are small and presentable. When I summon all of it, it even appears that the total volume has increased. I don’t know how powerful or common Blue Flame magic is, but if I had at least 100 milliliters of Red Water, I might be able to attempt a breakout.

The seeds of an escape plan are forming in the back of my mind, but there’s no rush yet. I’m still not very familiar with the area, and I wouldn’t know where to go once I got out. I asked Laura to damage the hinges of the latrine I’ve been using, so the guards would take me to a different one on the opposite side of the cathedral. So far, I’ve managed to learn about half of the cathedral’s layout.

I should be grateful, but this nagging feeling won’t leave my mind. Laura is a great ally—maybe too great. We do have some chemistry; I can tell that much. But her cooperation still makes me suspicious.

The existence of Red Water didn’t seem to faze her at all. In fact, she almost seemed dismissive of it. I have a sneaking suspicion there’s something she’s not telling me—whether it’s about herself or my situation.

Her only letter came during dinner. Her usual smile was gone when she delivered it. Let the porridge get cold; this letter is clearly more important.

The ink on the letter hasn’t fully dried, and Laura’s usually neat handwriting feels rushed and clumsy. The letter reads:

“When you were summoned, they expected you to bring a power of your own. It hadn’t occurred to them that the great hero from another world might be an ordinary person with no magic. They rushed the Blue Flame ceremony because you were expected to fight immediately because a northern border fortress is about to be taken over by demons.”

My assumption was correct: the ceremony was rushed, but the reason is surprisingly simple. I guess their manpower is spread thin if they had to hurry something that took decades to prepare. But why did it take decades in the first place?

This letter is longer than the others, I wonder how she got this information. It continues:

“The clergy are panicking and have split into two factions. One believes that the summoning failed and you are not the prophesized great hero, the other believes that there is no great hero to begin with and that the prophecy was false. As you can probably tell, neither of those factions have your best interests in mind. Although few have abstained from voicing an opinion.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Things are not looking good for me. Naturally, they have come up with theories, none of which are true. I don’t think I can convince them, as an outsider, my word means nothing and because I’m not the most diplomatic. The Goddess can screw herself, it would have been better if she gave me no gift. Or perhaps I could have handled it better, who knows. It doesn’t matter.

I believe I know how this letter ends, but I read it anyway:

“The biggest topic of their discussion is, of course, your fate. Right now, the popular opinion is…” I gulp before reading the next line. “...to get rid of you. If there is a best time to plan an escape then it’s now. I’ll help, but you don’t sit doing nothing. You’re smart, you’ve proven that to me, so think of something and write to me tomorrow.”

I let go of the letter and let it fall to the floor, the draft blowing it to the other side of the room. I sit there, motionless, for a good minute, my mind blank. I always knew this was a possibility but knowing it is different. I lost my appetite, there’s no way I’m eating that porridge.

How long has it been since I felt this way? Or have I ever? I’ve been in trouble before—skipping class, failing a test, messing up some code. I’ve been yelled at by my parents, teachers, and my boss.

When I came to this world, I almost found it… refreshing. Strange, but my life back home wasn’t the best. I had food, a warm, though uncomfortable, bed to sleep in. I had a job I was content with, but something was missing.

Learning about this world, the novelty of it—the literal magic in it, the Red Water I possess—gave me something. A glimmer of hope that I could make something of this, that I could leave my earthly life behind.

Now there are no dreams. If I do attempt an escape, and even if I succeed. Where will I go? I’ll have Laura with me. I think so at least. Why does she want to help me? I don’t know. I’m tired and for the first time in my life I can confidently say this. I’m scared.

With shaking hands I slap myself. My cheeks are now red, even my hand is stinging. I’m Steponas, an overweight software engineer. I’m a disappointment, or at least I used to be. This time I will become something more. I’ll escape and prove everyone, no, I’ll prove myself wrong.

One thing I’ve noticed is that when I exercise, I feel better. When my heart pounds so hard I can hear my own heartbeat, my mind becomes sharper. Without a second thought, I drop to the ground.

One, two, three… My arms hurt, aching from the relentless push-ups. Rest is important, but I’ll rest when I escape. Right now, I’m pushing through the pain. Four, five, six. It hurts, but it feels good at the same time. Seven, eight… nine. I drop to the ground, panting and exhausted, but I’m smiling. “Nine… A new record.”

The room grows darker as the sun begins to set. I lie on the cold, hard floorboards. The discomfort is, oddly enough… comforting. Who knows, maybe I’m a masochist. I’ve never felt this alive.

I stare at the ceiling, mentally gathering every bit of information I’ve acquired since being here. The cathedral’s layout, the guards’ routines—I’ll reread Laura’s letters under the light of Red Water. I’ll think of a plan to get out of here.

Strange. I don’t feel scared anymore, not even a little. I’ll form a plan and give the letter to Laura at breakfast. I’ll even eat the porridge. In fact, I’ll do it right now.