After tidying up the warehouse, Morris returned to the dormitory, holding his cat. Scott's bed was empty; he was likely out wandering around. This worked in Morris's favor, so he casually placed the black cat on his roommate's bed. Scott, being generous, surely wouldn't mind a few extra black paw prints on his sheets.
Watching the cat frolic across the bed, Morris closed his eyes and silently thought, "Book of the Mage." Instantly, a phantom book slowly materialized in his mind. Its cover was dark, made of an indescribable material, and interwoven with starlight. That, however, wasn't what caught his attention. With a thought, the book flipped open to a page: Necromantic Creature Transformation Magic Circle.
This was the magic circle Morris had successfully enacted in the warehouse. So it's real, he realized. His eyes opened, and a sense of relief washed over him—he wasn't imagining things. Great, he wasn't mentally ill.
The mysterious Book of the Mage had appeared in his mind only a few days ago, and like a real book, he could check it or flip through it anytime. Most of the content, however, was locked by some mysterious force. At first, Morris could only see the first few pages, but over time, more content had become visible. For example, the page on the Necromantic Creature Transformation Magic Circle had appeared only last night.
What was peculiar, though, was that despite the title Book of the Mage, all the unlocked content so far dealt with the undead, curses, and other ominous matters. Normally, anyone gaining such dark knowledge might feel unease or fear. But Morris didn't care. Now that he had this unique ability, he intended to accept it properly. Trying to trace the book's origins, however, was beyond his current understanding—a futile endeavor.
Satisfied with this realization, Morris climbed onto Scott's bed, happily rolling around with his undead cat. From the cat came that familiar cold touch.
It was the last day of July. A week had passed since Morris received his letter from Hogwarts. That afternoon, he found himself weeding the overgrown courtyard of the orphanage. The yard had been neglected for so long that the paths were submerged under wild grass, making it almost impossible to walk. Naturally, the government wouldn't waste funds on such an insignificant place, and the children became cheap labor. Morris, however, didn't mind helping.
Most of the children, though, had wandered off while the caregivers weren't looking. The ones who remained mostly slacked off or goofed around. Observing them gave a clear glimpse into the personalities that ended up in this orphanage—it was a rough lot. The environment had shaped them, leaving them helpless against its pressures.
Luckily, Morris had been an adult in his previous life, so he hadn't become twisted by this place. The caregivers didn't seem concerned either, strolling lazily across the yard on patrol. Judging by their efficiency—or lack thereof—they likely wouldn't finish tidying the yard before summer ended. Seeing this, Morris joined the ranks of those slacking off.
Of course, "slacking off" didn't mean idleness. Morris could still study the Book of the Mage in his mind. To outsiders, he simply appeared lost in thought. In reality, he was learning the magic within—a perfect cover.
Over the past week, he had been practicing a curse called the Weakening Curse. Unfortunately, it was far more complex than he'd expected. The key lay in construction. Incantations and gestures were secondary, mere aids to channel power. The true essence required using mental power in the mind to construct a precise energy structure called a Spell Model. Only by building the Spell Model correctly could the spell succeed.
Morris rubbed his forehead in frustration. Though he had discovered a few helpful tricks, the spell remained difficult. Even a minor distraction during construction caused immediate failure. He had tried hundreds of times, but succeeded only once. Only once. Despite considering himself focused, this result left him slightly discouraged.
While he pondered, his roommate Scott called out.
"Hey, Morris, is that your cat?"
Morris glanced toward Scott and saw the undead cat standing on a crumbling wall, baring its teeth at a burly spotted wildcat.
Is it going to fight? Morris thought, intrigued. The undead cat's eyes narrowed to sharp vertical slits. A domestic cat, yet here it faced a wildcat with such confidence. Morris felt proud. With its master's power, this cat was extraordinary.
Then, the undead cat arched its back, fur standing on end, and pounced like a black arrow toward the wildcat!
"Slap!" The cat was swatted off the wall by the wildcat's paw.
"…Your cat is really weak," Scott said, arms crossed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement on his face.
Morris felt a twinge of embarrassment. His undead creature, noble as it was, had been defeated by a mere wildcat. Show some backbone, Canned Food, he thought silently.
"It might just be a wild cat that looks like one," he said, averting his gaze.
As if responding to its master's words, the undead cat immediately stopped its clumsy performance, darted to Morris's feet like a shadow, climbed his pant leg, and dove into his arms. It rubbed its head against his chest vigorously.
Scott's lip twitched. "…This cat really likes you. Is its name Canned Food?"
"Yes," Morris replied with a helpless expression. The name commemorated a cherished canned fruit that had been knocked over two months prior. He had also performed an embalming treatment on the cat, following the undead creature guide in the Book of the Mage.
A caregiver stepped forward, expressionless. "Mr. Black, I'm reminding you again, cats are not allowed here."
"Alright, sir," Morris said obediently, tossing Canned Food aside. "But it's just a wild cat."
The undead cat, agile as ever, disappeared behind the wall, leaving only a fleeting black shadow. The caregiver nodded, saying nothing further. Morris knew how to handle caregivers—obedience and silence usually prevented trouble.
Settling back on the ground, Morris resumed flipping through the Book of the Mage. The undead cat soon returned to his side, curling up like a living shadow. Despite its small size and fragile appearance, he knew that under the right circumstances, it could be a force to be reckoned with.
The last week had been a whirlwind of new discoveries, challenges, and small victories. Morris felt a thrill in mastering his abilities, yet the complexities of the Book of the Mage reminded him that his journey had only just begun.
He looked down at Canned Food, now purring contentedly in his lap. You and I have a long way to go, he thought. But we'll face it together.
And with that resolve, Morris's mind drifted back to the magic circle he had studied the night before. He knew that, sooner or later, mastering the spell models would be the key to unlocking the book's true potential—and stepping fully into the mysterious, ominous world he had now entered.
The summer sun fell over the orphanage courtyard, casting long shadows across the weeds and overgrown paths. Morris took a deep breath, feeling the cold touch of Canned Food's presence against him. A week had passed, but his real journey—the journey into the undead, curses, and forbidden magic—was only just beginning.
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