Turns out, mornings in another world aren't all that different from mornings in Tokyo.
What I mean is — they're still absolutely awful.
The difference is, back in Tokyo I'd be woken up by my phone alarm. Here, I was woken up by something that drove into my ribs with the precision of a karate athlete.
"Get up."
I opened my eyes. Stone ceiling. Crystal chandelier. Oh. Not a dream.
"Ellena..." I groaned, burrowing deeper into my thin blanket. "Five more minutes."
"Servants don't get to ask for five more minutes."
A second kick landed clean on my shin. I shot upright on reflex, biting back a yelp — aware that people in the neighboring rooms might still be asleep.
Ellena was already standing in front of me, fully dressed in her uniform, her black hair tied up in a half-updo.
Her crimson eyes looked down at me with an expression I had a feeling I'd be getting very familiar with very soon — a blend of disgust and impatience, like someone who'd been forced to keep a hamster despite being allergic to fur.
"You slept too long. Class starts in an hour."
"An hour is still plenty of time—"
"And before class, you need to pick up my breakfast from the kitchen, wash my spare uniform, clean my study desk, and—"
I stopped listening at the word wash.
The Springvale Academy kitchen was located in the lower wing of the castle, three floors below Ellena's room. I know this because I took two wrong turns and nearly walked into a room full of self-spinning magic wands.
Back in Japan, I never got up before seven. Here, apparently, I'd have to get used to quarter-to-six wake-ups and a to-do list that stretched down to my elbow.
The kitchen itself was impressive — huge, hot, and buzzing with activity. But what surprised me more were the people working in it. They weren't wearing robes. Their clothes were plain and simple, and their expressions were... blank. Completely different from the loud, animated students up above.
"You the new one? Miss Lawrence's Servant?" A large man approached me. A cook, I figured, given the apron and the enormous knife in his hand.
"Yeah," I answered carefully.
He looked me up and down with an expression I couldn't quite read. Not dismissive, but not warm either. More like... pitying.
"A regular human as a Servant," he muttered, then handed me a tray with bread, soup, and a glass of warm milk.
"The Young Miss's meal has been ready for a while. Servants usually come earlier."
"Servants can usually fly," I replied without thinking.
He laughed — short, but genuine. "Fair point." He turned back to his work, glancing over his shoulder. "Name's Philip. If you get hungry, come by. Looks like you're going to need the extra energy."
I didn't know why, but that line sounded less like an offer and more like a warning.
The walk back to Ellena's room — tray in hand, doing my best not to trip on the dark spiral staircase — gave me time to think.
It had been almost twelve hours since I arrived here.
No magic portal had suddenly appeared. No "press this button to go home" sign. No one seemed to care in the slightest that a Japanese teenager had been stranded in another dimension with no language skills, no money, and not even a basic map.
What bothered me most wasn't the fact that magic was real, or that there were two moons, or that I was now officially registered as the pet of a pink-haired noble girl.
What bothered me most was — I had absolutely no plan.
In all the isekai anime I'd ever watched, the protagonist usually gets some overpowered skill right away, or runs into a guide fairy, or at the very least gets a status window telling them they have some hidden power.
I got none of that. All I had was a weird rune on my hand that was apparently "a bit different" from a normal Servant rune — and even the teacher himself looked confused about it.
Hmm.
I glanced at the back of my left hand. The swirling markings were still there, giving off a faint warmth if I paid close enough attention. What did it mean?
Why did Conor look like he was trying to remember something when he saw it?
Questions for another time. Right now, the priority was making sure Ellena's soup didn't go cold. I'd learned last night that she had very strong opinions about food temperature.
[POV: Ellena Antoinette de Lawrence]
I'd been sitting at my study desk for twenty minutes, and the book in front of me hadn't been opened once.
Outside the window, the morning sun was slowly crawling up over the east tower. Two owls belonging to other students glided past — proper Servants, properly summoned, by students with proper magical ability.
I pressed my pen tip too hard against the page, leaving an ink blot.
Ellena the failed.
It wasn't the first time I'd heard that nickname. It had been following me since first year — since the very first explosion that blew a hole through the classroom floor and made everyone laugh. Since then, my real name — Ellena Antoinette de Lawrence, of the distinguished noble Lawrence family — had felt like it meant nothing at all.
But yesterday... yesterday was supposed to be different.
The Servant Summoning is the most sacred ritual of second year. You recite the incantation, pour your entire power into it, and the universe responds with a creature that reflects a witch's element and soul. Amber got a magnificent Fire Salamander. Celine got a breathtaking Ice Dragon. Even plain old Montmorency got a golden Frog.
I got... him.
A boy from a country that doesn't exist on any map, wearing strange clothes, whose very first reaction upon seeing me was to assume I was part of a dream and ask to be punched.
I exhaled slowly.
There was no point in regret. Master Conor had made it clear — the contract was formed, the rune was written, it couldn't be redone. He was my Servant, whether I liked it or not. And a Lawrence does not weep over fate. A Lawrence faces it.
Even if that fate comes in the form of an ordinary human from a world without magic who doesn't even know how to bow properly.
Footsteps came from outside the door, followed by the sound of a tray clanking against the door handle.
"I've got your breakfast," his voice came from the other side. "And my left hand has gone completely numb."
I closed my book calmly. "Come in."
The door swung open. He walked in balancing the tray with a look of intense concentration, then set it down on the table beside me. The soup was still steaming. The bread looked fresh.
"You're four minutes late," I said.
"I got lost twice."
"A good Servant memorizes the route on the first day."
"A good Servant can usually fly," he replied.
I almost — almost — smiled. But I held it back.
"After this, wash my spare uniform. It's in the drawer under the bed."
He looked at me with a strange expression. Not angry, not resigned. More like he was weighing something up. Then he gave a slow nod. "Okay."
I lifted my soup spoon. "And don't read the labels on my clothes."
"I can't read anything written here anyway."
"Good."
[POV: Izumi]
Laundry duty turned out to be way less simple than it sounded, because there was no washing machine here.
There was a large basin in the back courtyard of the castle, lavender-scented soap, and a wooden scrubbing board. I stared at Ellena's spare uniform — which turned out to consist of a white blouse, a black vest, a grey skirt, and several layers of lacy underwear — with feelings I couldn't quite put into words.
"First time doing laundry?" an unfamiliar voice called out.
I looked up. A girl was standing a few steps away, carrying her own laundry.
Blazing red hair, tall, wearing her uniform in what I could only assume violated several dress code rules — top three buttons undone, belt hanging loose. She was looking at me with a smile that was way too confident for someone I'd never met.
"I'm Amber," she said, without being asked. "Amber Cristine de Vallier. You must be Ellena's Servant."
"Izumi," I replied simply. "Nakamura Izumi."
"Izumi." She repeated my name with a curious accent, then casually sat down on the edge of the basin beside me.
"Where are you from?"
"Japan."
"Not on any map."
"Figured as much."
She laughed — warm, easy, nothing like the mocking laughter from yesterday. "You know, I feel a little bad for you. Ellena is... not easy." She picked up one of her shirts and started washing it with relaxed, lazy strokes.
"But interesting, too. That rune on your hand — I noticed it yesterday. Conor-sensei took a photo of the inscription, you know."
I stopped scrubbing. "Seriously?"
"He looked really excited about it. More than usual." Amber's brow furrowed slightly. "That rune isn't a standard Servant rune. I don't recognize the form. And I've studied quite a bit about runes."
The faint warmth on the back of my hand suddenly felt more real than before.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
Amber shrugged. But her eyes — golden orange, sharp — didn't look relaxed at all. "No idea. Maybe nothing. Or maybe..." she paused, "Ellena didn't summon just any Servant. Even if she doesn't know it herself."
A morning breeze swept across the courtyard, carrying the scent of grass and something sweet — probably flowers from the castle garden. Up on the tower, a bell rang out seven times.
Class was starting.
I wrung out Ellena's uniform, hung it on the clothesline, then looked at my hand one more time.
A different rune.
I didn't know whether to feel scared or curious. So for now, I decided to go with both.