“Write what?” I asked her. I had occasionally considered noting down my experiences here in case I ever got home - but had given up on the idea as I had nothing to write on or to write with. As it was, even if I did I was pretty sure that my memoire titled, ‘Being Homeless In Another World’ was not going to sell very well.

“Write something important that you know - that grimoire gave the [Create Water] spell,” she said. “And it has the story I told you written upon it. Think of an important poem or piece of literature that you’ve been told.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of this, but if she wanted me to write something with significance that I remembered, I decided to write out Polonius Advises Laertes, by William Shakespeare, a section of Hamlet. I had recently studied it in depth and remembered it quite well, enough to write it out from memory.

The brush, however, took some getting used to, and it was far more like painting than writing, but I managed to get the words out onto the sheet of paper. All throughout, I noted the faint blue glow that emanated from the letters as I wrote them. Once I was done, the glow vanished, and I felt a sense of fatigue as the letters turned green.

“A successful grimoire! On your first try, no less,” the granny said, sounding somewhat impressed. “Ah, I haven’t seen a script like this before.”

I decided to read over my work. As I was done, I felt yet another sense of fatigue wash over me, as if in addition to the work I’d done that day, I had also hiked for over an hour.

And then, several other things happened.

One, the paper I had written on crumbled to dust, and the dust was carried away even though there was no wind, until nothing remained of my writing or the paper I had written it on.

Two, I had an odd sensation within myself, as if something had ‘awakened’ in me that was always there but I just had not noticed it before. There were three empty spaces within my mind, and one of those spaces had been filled with information from the poem I had just read.

Third, I had gained a point towards ‘Wisdom.’ I didn’t know how I knew this, there was no notification that flashed before my eyes, I just knew it as certainly as I could feel my right hand. I had gained +1 towards that stat.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Fourth, I became aware of something I could only describe as a ‘mana bar.’ I had exhausted half of it in doing whatever I did. Again, I couldn’t see an actual bar in front of me, I just instinctively knew how much I had left. It was a remarkable feeling, like I had always known how much mana I had and that I had always had a mana bar, only that I had just now remembered where it was.

Despite all of this, one fact stood out the most.

“What the hell is this nonsense?!” I screamed, though I instantly took note of what kind of company I was in and apologized for my language.

Books were a consumable item in this world? As in, pages disappeared after you had read them? Wasn’t one of the great things about books that you could give them to someone else after you had read them?

“My, my,” the granny said. “Did you discover a new grimoire?”

“No, it’s a well-known work of literature from where I come from,” I told her. “Do… does writing always do that?” I gestured to the place where that piece of paper had been.

She sighed and muttered “…practically the village idiot…” under her breath, though I heard her loud and clear. She then paused and scratched her chin. “Child, if you could do this, why did I see you wandering around the streets like a beggar? Surely you can get better employment than as a weed picker if you could do this.”

“Do what?”

“Write more of what you just did,” she said exasperatedly, as if it should have been obvious. She asked me to follow her and pointed me in a certain direction. She then handed me another piece of paper and the brush. “Make another copy of what you had just made, and take it there. You’ll find some large shops which sell grimoires. They might be run by lizardmen, but they’ll gladly take someone who can write in a foreign language. Tell them that you can write more grimoires like this. They’ll employ you.”

I hesitated a bit. Naturally, even in a foreign world, I felt more kinship with humans than with lizardmen. “Uh, can’t you just teach me?”

She sighed. “I don’t have the time or patience for such things, and my memory grows foggy. Not to mention I have no desire to set up a bookstore. Go, tell them you would like to be an apprentice scribe, they will accept you.” She said this with finality, before a small smile came upon her face. “But, why don’t you stay for dinner first?”

The next morning, I did in fact walk over in the direction she had pointed me in. There were quite a few of what looked like bookstores there. The first one I walked into kicked me out the moment they saw me, so no luck there.

The second one I walked into; I was immediately greeted by a bright green lizardmen who said, “What can I help you with, human?” There was some slight disdain in his voice, which was quite pronounced when he said ‘human.’

I remembered what that old lady had told me. “I uh, wanted to be an apprentice scribe.”

“Oh? You can write?”

“Yes, but not in your language,” I said. I held out a copy of what I had written earlier. It had the same green glow to it, though I found that after reading it, this one didn’t burn up for some reason. However, writing it had still drained my mana. “This is a grimoire from my country.”