"My luggage should have already been sent to my apartnt."
Stepping out of the train and making his way out of the train station, Art mused, his finger brushing against a contact on his phone dubbed "Mom" .
"I should probably inform Mom that I've arrived..."
Tapping the contact, the number began to dial, ringing for a while, but after a minute or so, there was no answer.
"Huh... That's weird. She usually picks up my calls."
Compared to his mother back on Earth, the one here was more on the pampering side. It made sense since he was all she had, but sotis she went overboard and treated him too much like a child—which he hated. By no ans was he a child; he was a twenty-year-old adult, and adding his age back on Earth, he would probably be in his forties. So yeah, he wasn't a child.
"I'll just text her. She'll eventually call anyway."
Exiting contacts and opening chats, he swiftly typed his ssage for his mom. After it was sent, he exited the app before descending the stairs toward the sidewalk.
The noises of vehicles, the rapid steps of people going about their business, and so much more diluted his senses a bit.
"Is that an elf?"
Joining the crowd, he marveled at the long, pointy ears of the blonde woman busily on a call. Fantasy creatures did exist in the ga, but seeing them with his own eyes was a whole other realm of surreal.
"I guess this isn't a dream after all."
Ever since he woke up here a week ago, he had always doubted if this was real. He was unable to accept it—not because he missed Earth, but because it seed too good to be true.
"For now, don't think about it... et one of the main cast, achieve the objective, and attend the job review."
The body he was currently inhabiting belonged to a twenty-year-old unemployed genius—genius as in smart enough to finish school early, but weak enough that he was considered useless in this magical setting.
As far as mundane jobs went, he could qualify for many, and he should have had one, if not for his job application being sent to the wrong place.
At first, this world's Art had remained clueless that his job application had been sent to one of the four most prestigious academies on the whole continent—that was, until he received a letter of acceptance from "Legacy Academy" : ho to so of the greatest heroes of both the past and the present, and currently in the process of nurturing the heroes of the future.
Even if he was a genius, the chances of being accepted by such an academy as a teacher—nevertheless—should have been impossible, since at best he was a three-star aura user. The academy took in geniuses of four stars and above, but he had been chosen, and now he was to co for an interview to officially be vetted.
By the ti the Art from Earth had taken over his body, the original Art was preparing to fix this ss. But Earth's Art had other plans.
"I know sothing bad will happen. I can't rember what or how, but I have to be part of it. Maybe it can help regain the blankness in my mories."
He was no fool. He knew the dangers this world posed to those who decided to beco heroes and fight the Abyss. He also knew getting involved with the plot would lead to his end, but for the sake of his mories, he had to do it.
"This isn't like ."
Staring at himself through the window of a clothing store, he muttered. His reflection stared back at him—a tall, handso young man with a lean build and long blonde hair slightly past his shoulders. He had sapphire-colored irises and was dressed in a black-and-white suit along with a pair of dark trousers. His stern expression, along with his strict attire, denoted a sense of professionalism—which, unfortunately, was all he had going for him.
"No matter how much I try to ignore it, I've got to admit—I'm handso."
With a soft wink, he smirked and continued walking along the streets, occasionally staring in awe as he ca across many kinds of mystical creatures: a tall, broody male vampire with an umbrella hovering over his head, a hairy dwarf in an attire consisting of a suit and armor, a cheerful, tanned-skinned girl with feline features, and demi-humans of all kinds.
A world that was a blend of fictional fantasy and twenty-first-century aesthetics—that was the place he had been transported to.
It was strange, among many other things, but he was sure he'd get used to this over ti.
If there was anything he was confident about himself, then it would undoubtedly be his adaptability.
Stopping in front of a bus stop, he searched his pocket for money and stood still, awaiting the arrival of the bus to his destination.
"3... 2... 1."
With a countdown, a figure arrived beside him, causing his breath to catch in his throat. He hadn't expected his prediction to be right on the spot—but it had. The evidence was the curly-haired blonde teenager waiting for the bus beside him.
She was a year or two younger than him, standing a few inches below him with a slight muscular firmness among her feminine features.
Dressed in a light black button-up shirt along with a white coat adorned with a golden sword badge, a skirt of moderate length covered her knees, with a pair of black stockings covering the rest of her legs, hidden within black-and-white sneakers.
Nesting a sheathed and cloth-wrapped sword on her back, with the straps wrapped around her left hand, she traced her gaze onto Art, who unconsciously looked away once he realized he was staring at her too much.
[Interact with Trish Snowfield]
As he looked away, a pop-up notification filled his sight, causing his expression to pale.
For so reason, another trauma he seed to have developed was his inability to talk to strangers.
Still wondering where all these traumas ca from, an electric bus ca to a stop in front of them, its doors parting to drop off and receive passengers.
Once those being dropped off had gotten down, he followed behind the blonde girl, wondering what his next move was.
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