The ceiling wasn't mine.
That was my first thought when I opened my eyes—not panic, not confusion, just that simple observation. The ceiling wasn't mine. It was too white, too pristine, with recessed lighting that hummed softly in a way my apartment's flickering bulb never had.
I sat up.
The room around me was spartan but comfortable. A bed—the one I'd just been lying in. A desk with a computer terminal that glowed faintly blue. A window showing... something. I couldn't quite focus on what was outside. Every time I tried, my eyes seemed to slide away from it, like trying to remember a dream that was already fading.
"Master, good morning!"
I turned.
Mash Kyrielight stood in the doorway, her shield propped against the wall beside her. She wore her usual Chaldea uniform, that pleasant smile on her face that I'd seen a thousand times through a screen. But there was something off about it. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Or maybe it did, but those eyes didn't quite reach... me?
"Good morning, Mash," I said automatically.
She didn't react to my voice. Not really. She just continued with what she was going to say anyway.
"Breakfast is ready in the cafeteria whenever you're ready! Today's menu includes rice, miso soup, grilled fish, and pickled vegetables. Da Vinci-chan says it's important to start the day with a balanced meal!"
She stood there, waiting.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Thank you, Mash."
"You're welcome, Master! I'll see you there!" She turned and walked away, her footsteps perfectly even, perfectly timed. I counted them without meaning to. Exactly twelve steps before she turned the corner and disappeared.
I looked down at my hands.
They were my hands. I flexed my fingers, watching tendons move under skin. Real. Solid. Mine.
But nothing else was.
I stood up—and realized I was already dressed. When had that happened? I was wearing a Chaldea uniform that fit perfectly, shoes that were already laced. Had I dressed myself? I couldn't remember doing it. But I must have, right?
The computer terminal on the desk chirped softly. I walked over to it, bare feet silent on the floor (wait, wasn't I wearing shoes a second ago?), and tapped the screen.
DAILY QUESTS AVAILABLE
EMBER GATHERING
TRAINING GROUNDS
TREASURE VAULT
I stared at it.
Then I laughed. It came out strange, echoing in the small room. Of course. Of course it was like this.
I was in Fate/Grand Order. And it was exactly like the game.
I reached out and touched the screen, meaning to select something—anything—but my finger passed through it. Not like it was a hologram. More like... like I'd decided it didn't matter, and so it didn't. The screen flickered and changed to show something else. My room. A map. Servant information. Whatever I thought about appeared.
"Interesting," I murmured.
I thought about breakfast, and suddenly I could smell it. Grilled fish and miso soup, exactly as Mash had described. My stomach didn't growl—I realized I wasn't actually hungry—but the smell was comforting anyway.
I thought about being in the cafeteria, and—
The world lurched.
Not painfully. It was more like... like changing channels. One moment I was in my room, the next I was standing in the doorway of Chaldea's cafeteria. No walking, no transition. Just a shift from one place to another because I'd wanted to be there.
The cafeteria was full.
Servants sat at tables, eating, talking, laughing. I recognized them all. Artoria sat with a truly impressive pile of food. Cu Chulainn was arguing with Emiya about something, their voices carrying across the room. Medusa read quietly in a corner. Hans Christian Andersen typed furiously on a laptop that definitely shouldn't exist in this time period but somehow did anyway.
None of them looked at me.
I walked forward, and the crowd parted. Not consciously—they just happened to shift at exactly the right moments for me to pass through. I could have walked straight through them if I'd wanted to, I realized. They'd have moved, or I'd have moved, or reality would have bent itself into whatever shape made it work.
"Master!" Mash appeared beside me, tray already in hand. "I got your breakfast! Please, sit down!"
I sat.
She placed the tray in front of me. The food looked perfect. Too perfect. Like a photograph of breakfast rather than actual food.
I picked up the chopsticks anyway.
The first bite of rice tasted exactly like rice should taste. Warm, slightly sticky, with that subtle sweetness good rice has. But as soon as I swallowed, I forgot what it tasted like. Not the memory of eating it—I could remember doing that—but the actual sensation vanished like smoke.
"Is it good?" Mash asked.
"It's perfect," I said honestly.
She beamed. That same smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm so glad! Da Vinci-chan worked really hard on today's menu!"
I looked around the cafeteria again. Everyone was still eating, still talking, still existing in their little loops of behavior. Artoria would take a bite, chew exactly three times, swallow, and reach for the next plate. Cu and Emiya were having the same argument I'd heard them have a dozen times before. Medusa turned a page in her book with mechanical precision.
I could feel it then, that god-like awareness settling over me like a familiar coat. I knew—knew—that if I wanted to, I could change any of this. Make the food taste different. Make Mash say something else. Make the entire cafeteria disappear and be replaced with a garden, a beach, the void of space.
But I didn't.
Instead, I took another bite of too-perfect rice and watched Mash smile her not-quite-real smile, and thought:
This is going to take some getting used to.
"Master?" Mash tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"
"No," I said softly. "Nothing's wrong."
And somehow, that felt like the truth.