Finally, the principal said, "Silence."
Yeah, he said it, not screamed, but somehow it worked even better. Thank you was all I wanted to say—though only in my heart. I don't have any power, and I'm not eager to get tangled in another mess.
The principal left the auditorium, and a teacher took his place.
The teacher had blue hair that reached his shoulders, skin that looked like he had just come from a surprisingly effective skincare routine, and a face handsome enough that I personally thought girls wouldn't be able to concentrate on their studies.
"The two-month vacation that the academy always has has been extended by a month. Now you have three months," the teacher announced.
I wasn't in a situation to be happy, but hearing about the vacation—and the extension—made me happy anyway. I'm hopeless.
"This is not being done so that you can heal your mental scars. Even if you are only students, you need to keep up with the losses. You are not just random people on the road, but students of this glorious academy," the teacher added further.
"But some scars can't be healed in two months. For those scars, we need three months. For anyone wondering what kind of scars I mean, let me inform you—they are scars to the academy facilities."
Alright, this time it wasn't just me—everyone went speechless.
"So everyone is given a maximum of five days. Leave before then or you will be kicked out. These expensive facilities are repaired by world-class alchemists, rune masters, and forgers. They don't like to be babysitters."
One student raised their hand, which the teacher ignored as he continued:
"If you have any doubts, contact the respective administrative authority or teacher. Now, except for first-years, everyone should go and finish the work they have yet to complete."
As much as I wanted to leave, according to my memory I was a first-year, so I had to wait. When only the first-years were left, the teacher announced again:
"Your ranking exams were supposed to be held, but since the facilities are damaged, they will be conducted after your return."
The teacher looked troubled now, still not fully convinced, but continued nonetheless:
"Only this time, the academy has allowed each first-year to borrow five books from the first floor of the library, since you won't have time otherwise. Don't make it a habit. Now you can leave."
Finally, I could leave. I left the auditorium, but slowly slipped away from the crowd and arrived behind the building. There was a small garden—not quite a park. So small that it had only two or three trees and a few flowers. The sun was already high, so I took cover in the shade of a tree. It wasn't very cool, but the ground was damp, maybe recently watered, so it was comfortable.
At last, my thoughts started to settle, and I began answering the questions I had created for myself in the first place.
The first question was obvious: Where am I?
And according to my memories, which I could now calmly analyze—this is a novel.
Yes, I am inside a novel. As for how I ended up here, that's still unanswered. But this novel was my favorite, and it was quite popular. Many games were made based on it. An animated movie was also made, and after its success, an anime followed. The author even released a few short novel compilations focusing on beloved characters.
In short, this novel was a huge success and brought massive profits to anyone involved with it.
The name of the novel was "Hope Remains."
Its plot was simple: the world suffered a lot, lost a lot, but in the end, it was saved. That's why it was called Hope Remains—because even when destruction had reduced hope to almost nothing, people survived and found it again. Many contributed in their own ways, but of course, the story revolved around the MC.
Well, let's leave that for now and come back to me.
So basically, the MC of Hope Remains was in front of a fridge when he got transported here and saved everyone… as if. Yeah, well, I'm not the MC. At least, not according to my memories.
But thank God, I must be an overpowered side character who helps the MC till the end… yeah, again—NO.
Then who am I?
No, seriously—who am I?
I don't remember anyone with my name. So I'm just… an extra.
Wait, I forgot—silly me. I never introduced myself.
Nice to meet you. I'm Adrian Lewin. The extra.
I'm not really sure—maybe there was some place for me to fit in—but right now I'm mentally drained. Not knowing where you are, surrounded by strangers, takes a toll on your mind. I didn't wet myself, but the situation was bad enough that I feared I might. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hide—but there was nowhere to go. I even felt like giving up. Maybe those emotions were leading to resignation.
My memories weren't helping. I hadn't had the time to see them, review them, organize them, or use them. I don't even know how I managed to endure it. If you asked me whether, if I could go back and face it again, I'd do better, my answer would be no.
But still—I'm here. Alive. A little relieved. How long I can last is a mystery, but I'm not ready to give up just yet. Actually, this whole situation stings.
Thinking all that made me sleepy, and I dozed off, only to wake up at night. This sleep was unexpected but welcome, as it organized my memories further, and I remembered even more now. I would say I recall about 98% of my life as Adrian Lewin. Before, I had remembered around 90%, but after all that buzzing, it had all been disorganized.
So I can make sense of my situation more. Especially my previous situation. And with a little more clarity in my head.