Chapter Text
Tap Tap Tap
Your fingers move across the keyboard of the laptop to finish your last task for the day.
Nmae: [Redacted][Redacted]
Spending an evening in the library on a Monday can be incredibly frustrating. After dedicating six hours to practicing physics problems and reading about the decline of the job market, just before applying for college entrance exams, it's easy to feel a sense of despair. This overwhelming feeling might even lead you to misspell your own name on the application form.
Right now, your brain is mush, and all you can think about is how the Katseye girls deserve better and need a different musical direction.
Alright! Let's call it a day, [Name].
You close your laptop with a decisive snap, pack your belongings, and head toward the bus stop.
The walk to the bus stop is a blur of exhaustion and despair. Your feet move on autopilot while your brain runs on fumes and the desperate wish for this hell to be over.
Is this it? You think, staring blankly at the crosswalk signal. Is this all life is? Exams and applications and more exams until I'm too old to remember why I'm taking them?
Where's the excitement? The doki doki? The romance, the adventure, the—literally anything that isn't just… this?
You've read enough manga and webnovels to know that life is supposed to have flavor. Protagonists get swept off their feet. They get isekai'd into fantasy worlds where they're special and important and definitely don't have to fill out college applications—
A horse neighs.
You blink.
Wait.
You look up slowly, your sleep-deprived brain taking a few extra seconds to process what your eyes are seeing.
There's a carriage.
A horse-drawn carriage.
Barreling down the street.
Directly toward you.
"Not this kind of flavor?!!!!!"
The carriage gleams an ornate black, something straight out of a period drama, and it's moving fast—way too fast for a residential street, way too fast for something that shouldn't exist in the first place—
Your survival instincts kick in before your brain fully catches up.
You run
Your backpack slams against your spine as you sprint down the sidewalk, your lungs burning, your legs screaming in protest because the most exercise you've gotten in weeks is walking from your bedroom to the kitchen and back—
The carriage follows.
You can hear the clop clop clop of hooves on pavement, the creak of wheels, and—is that a whip cracking?!
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!" you shriek, cutting left into an alley.
The carriage cuts left.
You stumble right, nearly tripping over your own feet.
The carriage follows.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" you scream at the possessed vehicle. "I'M BROKE! I DON'T EVEN HAVE MY WALLET!"
The carriage doesn't answer. Obviously. Because it's a carriage.
But it keeps coming.
Your vision starts to blur at the edges. Your chest feels tight. You can't breathe properly, can't think, can't do anything except run—
This is it, some distant part of your brain thinks with an odd sort of calm. This is how I die. Not in some grand, meaningful way. Not after achieving my dreams or living a full life. I'm going to get run over by a fucking horse-drawn carriage because I stayed too late at the library.
Mom's going to be so disappointed.
The world tilts sideways.
Your legs give out.
Everything goes black.
The first thing you register is darkness.
Complete, suffocating darkness.
The second thing you register is that you're lying down in an enclosed space, and your hands hit smooth wood when you try to sit up.
Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh Jesus Christ—
"I'M ALIVE!" you gasp, slamming your palms against the wooden surface above you. "I'M ALIVE, AND I'M BURIED ALIVE! THIS IS WORSE! THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE!"
Your heart hammers against your ribs like it's trying to escape your chest. Panic claws up your throat, sharp and suffocating. The space is cramped, dark, and you can't see anything—
"OI!"
You freeze.
That voice—high-pitched, squeaky, and right outside—definitely doesn't belong to a morgue worker, or a serial killer, or Jigsaw from the Saw series.
"Are ya gonna stay in there all day?!" the voice continues, irritated. "Hurry up and hand over those clothes already! I'm gonna be late for the ceremony!"
Ceremony?
Clothes?
WHAT?
"HELLO?!" you shout, banging on the wood again. "WHAT'S GOING ON? WHERE AM I? WHY AM I IN A BOX?!"
"It's a coffin, genius! Now open it up! Geez, why're humans so slow—"
Humans?!
That's it. You're done, absolutely done.
You brace your hands against the lid and shove with all the strength your noodle arms can muster. The lid flies open with a dramatic BANG, and you practically catapult yourself out of the coffin—yes, it's definitely a coffin, ornate and creepy and floating in mid-air, what the FUCK—
You land in a graceless heap on the cold stone floor, gasping for air as if you've just run a marathon.
"Finally!" the squeaky voice huffs.
You look up.
There's a cat standing in front of you.
A small, gray cat with a forked tail, and bright blue flames flickering cheerfully in its ears.
You stare.
The cat stares back, paws on its hips. (Can cats put their paws on their hips? This one apparently can.)
"Well?" it demands. "You gonna gimme those clothes or what?"
Your brain makes a sound like a dial-up modem trying to connect to the internet.
"You're..." you say slowly, pointing at the cat, "...on fire."
"Huh?" The cat blinks, then glances at its ears. "Oh, these? Yeah, obviously. I'm a magical familiar. The Great Grim!" It puffs out its little chest proudly. "The flames are part of my incredible power!"
"Your ears are on fire," you repeat, because apparently that's all your brain can process right now.
"Yeah, I just said—HEY! STOP THAT!"
You've lunged forward, trying to pat out the flames with your bare hands. "Hold still! You're gonna get hurt—"
"They're SUPPOSED to be there, dumbass!" Grim swats at your hands with his paws, claws out. "It's magic! Do you not have magic where you're from?!"
You pull back, nursing your scratched hands.
The flames are still there, flickering merrily, and the cat—Grim—doesn't seem bothered by them at all.
"Magic," you say flatly.
"Yeah, magic! Pay attention!" Grim huffs. "Now come on, I need your uniform so I can sneak into Night Raven College! Everyone's gonna be so impressed when they see the Great Grim, and then I'll become the greatest mage ever and—"
"Wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand, your head spinning. "Slow down. Magic? Uniforms? Night Raven College?" You look around for the first time, really look, and—
Oh no.
You're in a massive chamber filled with floating coffins.
Floating. As in, defying gravity.
As in, ~Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity.~
Okay...On a more serious note, you observe that the room has high vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows depicting seven figures you don't recognize, and a general aesthetic that screams "Gothic fantasy boarding school."
"No," you whisper. "No, no, no—"
"What're you mumbling about?!" Grim demands. "Come ON! The entrance ceremony's already started!"
He bounds toward a pair of massive double doors, his flaming ears bobbing with each hop.
You stay frozen on the floor, your brain finally, finally connecting the dots.
A horse-drawn carriage that appeared out of nowhere.
Magical talking cat with fire ears—A Pokémon.
Floating coffins.
Fancy Gothic school with an "entrance ceremony."
"Oh my god," you breathe. "Oh my god."
You got hit by that carriage.
And now you're... somewhere else.
Somewhere with magic.
"I got isekai'd." The words come out as a strangled laugh that sounds like the bleating of a donkey. "I actually got fucking isekai'd. This is—this is insane. This can't be real. I'm hallucinating. I hit my head, and now I'm in a coma, and this is all some weird stress dream because I spent six hours doing physics problems—"
"ARE YA COMING OR NOT?!" Grim shrieks from the doorway.
Your body moves on autopilot, stumbling after the cat (familiar?) (demon?) because what else are you supposed to do? Stay in the creepy coffin room?
You follow Grim through the double doors and immediately want to turn back around.
The hall beyond is massive—all soaring ceilings, floating chandeliers, and ornate decorations that probably cost more than your family's house. And it's absolutely packed with people.
"Dude! Did you catch Neige's new music video?"
"I did, bruh. He's kinda bad tho. No homo."
"Well, I'd totally take him out for a date. Full homo."
"You know where my sock at?"
"Whoever blinks first is gay!!!"
Well.
Boys.
All boys.
Hundreds of them, dressed in elaborate uniforms with a hood. They're all standing in neat groups, facing toward the front of the hall where a giant ornate mirror stands.
And every single one of them is pretty. Like, K-pop idol, otome game love interest, "this is what peak male performance looks like" pretty.
Oh no, your brain supplies. Oh no no no—
"The shape of thy soul is..." the mirror is saying in a deep, echoing voice. A boy steps forward, looking nervous.
"...Heartslabyul!"
Applause erupts from the group in red and black. The boy looks relieved and jogs over to join them.
No way!!!
You were in a Hogwarts-inspired magical school setting of an otome game, weren't you?
"Next!" A man in a bird mask and the most extra top hat you've ever seen gestures grandly. "Let the Dark Mirror reveal your true nature!"
Grim, the absolute chaos gremlin, makes a break for it.
"WAIT!" you hiss, but it's too late.
"THE GREAT GRIM HAS ARRIVED!" he announces, bounding toward the mirror. "I'm gonna be the most powerful mage in the whole school and—"
"Absolutely NOT!" Bird Man swoops down and scoops Grim up by the scruff. "We do not accept strays at this institution!"
"I'M NOT A STRAY! I'M A FAMILIAR! PUT ME DOWN!"
What follows is complete chaos:
- Grim wiggling and yowling
- Blue flames are shooting everywhere (courtesy of Grim)
- Students screaming and diving for cover
- Someone's robes catch fire
- Bird Man squawking about "property damage" and "my precious academy."
- You're standing at the back of the hall, wondering if you can just sneak out and pretend this never happened
Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, Grim is forcibly escorted (read: chucked) out of the hall. The doors slam shut behind him.
"Ahem!" Bird Man straightens his hat and clears his throat. "My apologies for that... interruption. Now, where were we? Ah, yes!" His eyes—visible through the mask—scan the room. "It appears we have one more person than expected..."
His gaze lands on
you.
Fuck.
Every head in the hall turns.
Hundreds of eyes lock onto you.
You resist the urge to curl up and die on the spot.
"You there!" Bird Mask Man beckons. "Come forward! The Dark Mirror shall determine your dorm!"
On legs that feel like jelly, you walk toward the front of the hall. The crowd parts around you, whispers breaking out immediately:
"Who's that?"
"Did they miss someone's name?"
"Must be a really late bloomer if the mirror's just calling them now..."
"Dude, they look kinda rough. Did they sleep in their coffin?"
You want to snap back that yes, you did sleep in a coffin, because apparently, that's how this nightmare school does orientation, but you're too busy trying not to trip over your own feet.
You stop in front of the mirror.
Up close, it's even more intimidating—a massive ornate frame with a face visible in the glass, shifting and swirling like smoke.
"State your name," the mirror commands, its voice resonating in your bones.
"Uh." Your voice comes out scratchy. You clear your throat and give your name, somehow managing to pronounce it correctly this time.
The hall goes silent.
The mirror hums, a sound that makes your teeth ache.
"The shape of thy soul is..."
This is it. This is the moment. You're about to find out what dorm you're in, what magical power you have, what role you'll play in this weird isekai story—
"...Colorless."
You blink. "I'm sorry, what?"
"This one possesses no magic whatsoever," the mirror continues, almost apologetically. "Furthermore..." It pauses, as if unsure how to proceed. "This soul does not belong to this world. They cannot be sorted into any dorm."
The silence in the hall is deafening.
"WHAT?!" Bird Man—who you're pretty sure is the headmaster—squawks. He rushes forward, staring at the mirror like it's personally betrayed him. "But that's impossible! The Dark Mirror only summons those who are worthy of attending Night Raven College! There must be some mistake—"
"There is no mistake," the mirror says calmly. "This soul is... displaced."
"Displaced?!" you repeat. "What does that even—"
"Hold on," someone interrupts loudly. You can't see who. "Did the mirror just say 'they'? Like, singular they, or—"
"The soul's shape indicates female," the mirror states, matter-of-fact.
The silence somehow gets louder.
Then:
"A GIRL?!"
"AT NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE?!"
"AN ALL-BOYS SCHOOL?!"
"No way, lemme see—"
Several people crane their necks, trying to get a better look at you.
"Bro, she doesn't even look that special," someone mutters from the crowd.
"Could've at least been a cute one," another voice grumbles.
"HEY!" A third voice cuts in, sounding offended on your behalf. "That's messed up—"
"I mean..." The grumbling voice continues, "...game is game, I guess?"
"WHAT DID HE SAYYY~"
You're too busy having an existential crisis to care about being defended.
"ENOUGH!" The headmaster's voice cracks like a whip, silencing the chaos. He turns to you, and even through the mask, you can tell he's flustered.
"Follow me!" Bird Man commands, sweeping dramatically toward a side door.
You're led through winding corridors to a library that smells of old books and broken dreams. Crowley, aka Bird Man, aka headmaster of the school, shuffles through records, muttering to himself, before returning with a disappointed and annoyed look on his face.
"Well! This is highly unprecedented...But! I am gracious! I am kind!" He puts a hand to his chest dramatically. "I shall allow you to remain at Night Raven College until we find a way to return you to your world!"
"Return me—" You blink. "Wait, you can do that? Can you send me home?"
"But of course!" He waves a hand airily. "I am a genius, after all! It may take some time, but I'm certain we'll find a solution! In the meantime, you shall reside in the unused dormitory on campus!"
Unused dormitory. That doesn't sound ominous at all.
He leads you back to the main hall.
"Now then!" The headmaster claps his hands. "Let us conclude the entrance ceremony! Off to your dorms, everyone!"
The crowd begins to disperse, students filing out in their color-coded groups, but you can feel their stares lingering on you. Whispers follow you like a shadow:
"Did you see her—"
"No magic at all—"
"What's she even gonna do here—"
You stand there, frozen, as the reality of your situation crashes down like a ton of bricks.
No magic.
All-boys school.
You're a girl.
And judging by the way half these guys are looking at each other—the dramatic hair flips, the intense stare-downs, the general aesthetic—
Oh god.
Your eyes dart around the hall, taking in the dynamics with fresh horror:
There—a gorgeous blonde who looks like he walked straight out of a fashion editorial is in a heated argument with a guy who has long dark hair and lion ears. The lion guy is slouching with his arms crossed, sneering, while the blonde gestures dramatically, his perfect face twisted in annoyance.
That's enemies-to-lovers bait if I've ever seen it.
Over there—a tall, elegant guy with glasses is having what looks like an intense conversation with two identical twins who are both way too close to his personal space.
Possible love triangle? Childhood friends to lovers?
And in the corner—A tablet—yes, a tablet— blushing while talking to someone with bright eyes and a sunshine smile? AI romance?
Oh my god.
"No," you whisper, backing toward the door. "No, no, no—"
You didn't get isekai'd into a villainess revenge story.
You didn't get isekai'd into a power fantasy.
You got isekai'd into a BL game.
"I'm in the wrong genre," you mutter, staring at the parade of pretty boys. "I studied myself into a stress-induced breakdown and got hit by a magical carriage, and now I'm in BL Academy hell. Don't tell me they have a photography club here, which lures in innocent transfer students."
"Ahem!" The headmaster appears at your elbow, making you jump. "Follow me! I'll show you to your new residence!"
He strides toward the exit with way too much confidence for someone who just admitted they have no idea how to send you home.
You follow, mostly because you don't know what else to do.
This can't be happening, you think desperately. This is a nightmare. I'm going to wake up in a hospital with a concussion and a really good story about how I hallucinated a magical school full of anime boys.
But as you step out into the cool night air and see the Gothic castle looming against a star-filled sky that has two moons—
Yeah.
You're not waking up from this one.
"Fuck my life," you announce to the universe.
Somewhere behind you, someone snickers.
You don't even have the energy to care.
This is going to be a disaster.