A sharp ringing.
A dull ache at the back of my neck.
The smell of ancient dust and candle wax.
I open my eyes.
Or try to.
A blinding light—the leftover glare from that final explosion in the classroom—pierces my eyelids. Slowly, the white blur fades, revealing…
A vaulted ceiling. Painted with frescoes of winged creatures and epic battles. This is not the stained, water-damaged ceiling of my high school.
"Ugh… where the hell…?"
My voice echoes.
I push myself up with difficulty. I'm lying on the cold floor of a massive hall. Black marble columns. Tapestries bearing symbols I don't recognize. A red carpet so long it seems endless.
This is… a palace.
Or a very, very expensive movie set.
Before panic can settle in, a voice cuts through the silence.
"Welcome, sir knight. We have been expecting you for quite some time."
It's a male voice—cultured, polite—but with a sharp edge. Like the speaker has far too many teeth.
I look up.
In front of me, performing a flawless bow, stands… something.
Not human.
Not a fairy-tale goblin either.
It's a grotesque yet elegant combination: sallow skin, long pointed ears, a smile revealing rows of teeth like sewing needles. And he's wearing a bright bubblegum-pink three-piece suit that defies every law of fashion and decency.
This can't be happening.
A dream. A hallucination from the impact. Or I've landed in the wrong anime.
But my deepest instinct—the one that kept me alive in high school hallways between Frank and his drama—whispers:
Don't show fear.
"Excuse me," I say, forcing my voice to sound neutral—almost bored. "Who are you, and where am I?"
The pink creature straightens. His sulfur-yellow eyes examine me carefully.
"I am Slyther Drews, Chief Butler and loyal servant of this kingdom. Everything else will be explained by Her Majesty. If you would be so kind as to follow me."
He turns and begins walking down the endless red carpet.
No invitation. No choice.
Okay, Alex. Breathe.
Scenario one: Isekai. You got transported to another world. Classic.
Scenario two: Mass hallucination. Everyone in the classroom imagined the same thing. Unlikely.
Scenario three: This is real—and that guy's teeth could open soda cans.
As I follow the pink-butler-goblin, I take in my surroundings. Opulent… but dusty. Some tapestries are torn. A chandelier lies on the floor, unlit. Beneath the elegance, there's decay.
Then the most urgent thought hits me.
Hanako. Max. Akira… even the idiot Frank.
The lights caught all of us.
Where are they?
"We have arrived," Slyther announces, stopping before massive double doors of dark wood carved with demons and mythical beasts. They're taller than my house.
"Please wait while I announce your presence to Her Highness," he says.
Then, without warning, he shouts at the doors at full volume:
"YOUR HIGHNESS, PLEASE GET UP! WE HAVE A VERY SPECIAL GUEST AND YOU DO NOT WANT TO RECEIVE HIM IN YOUR CURRENT APPEARANCE!"
The shout is so loud my glasses vibrate.
A second later, from the other side of the door, comes a tremendous CRASH, followed by splashing water and something rolling across the floor.
"DAMN SEWER ORC, SLYTHER! I ALMOST DROWNED IN THE TUB!" a female voice yells, muffled and furious.
Slyther sighs—the sound of infinite patience worn thin.
"I told you not to fall asleep in the bath while reading again, my lady."
The doors burst open.
And there she is.
Framed by the dim light of the throne room stands a woman—tall, slender, her posture screaming authority…
Until you notice the details.
Platinum-blonde hair so bright it looks like it's made of light—yet tangled and plastered to one side like she just survived a hurricane. Vibrant orange eyes, sharp and unique… surrounded by deep purple dark circles that look like bruises. She wears an elegant black gothic dress that hugs curves worthy of a sculptor's tears—but she wears it with the dignity of pajamas.
And her ears…
Pointed.
An elf.
An elf who clearly hasn't slept in three days.
"M-my apologies for the delay," she says, straightening up and forcing a regal tone. Her voice is seductive and melodic—but rough with exhaustion. "And for what my butler said. Slyther exaggerates. I wasn't sleeping. I was… planning battle strategies. Yes."
Slyther pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Of course you were, Your Highness."
I freeze.
This isn't the stern Warrior Queen I expected.
This is a sleep-deprived otaku elf having a crisis.
But hey—if this is an isekai, the rules are different. Maybe here I can aim higher than just surviving Frank.
A harem?
Not ruling it out. I'm an otaku, not a saint.
I give a small bow—the most respectful one I can manage with my delinquent-student skillset.
"Don't worry, Your Highness. It's a… pleasure."
She nods, trying to maintain composure.
Then she shudders.
There's a small pop, and a cloud of dark smoke envelops her.
When it clears, the elf queen is still there…
But smaller.
Now she looks no older than sixteen. The dark circles are even more dramatic on her youthful face, and her expression is that of someone who just realized the coffee ran out.
"Tch! I couldn't even maintain my adult form for ten minutes!" she complains, her voice noticeably higher.
"I TOLD YOU!" Slyther scolds, waving his arms. "I said 'go to bed early'! I said 'don't stay up all night reading Blood and Velvet: My Demon Boss Is a Tsundere! What will our guest think?!"
The now-teenage queen—Andras, judging by context—blushes furiously.
"I couldn't help it! The new volume dropped at midnight! It's about a human office worker transferred to the Eternal Torment Department, and her new boss is the Prince of Wrath—who's actually a soft boy with attachment issues! It's literary gold!"
Slyther smacks her on the head with a folding fan he pulls out of nowhere.
"YOU ARE NOT OLD ENOUGH TO READ THAT! WHAT WOULD YOUR MOTHER SAY IF SHE WERE ALIVE?!"
Andras rubs her head, thinking.
"That I should seduce and emotionally enslave some Truman prince to gain political leverage?"
Slyther turns pale—a feat given his sallow skin.
"EXACTLY. Which is why I wanted to summon a serious adventurer! I'm sending him back immediately! I refuse to be involved in your bizarre fetishes, my lady!"
"I'm still here, you know," I say, raising a hand.
The surrealism is starting to overpower my confusion. This feels like my Discord chat came to life and got crowned queen.
Both of them freeze and look at me as if they'd forgotten I existed.
Andras clears her throat, forcing dignity again.
"My apologies. I am Andras, Queen of Shadowfall. This… is my kingdom."
She launches into an explanation.
A once-prosperous demon kingdom that traded dark artifacts and… slaves, until her mother—Demon Queen Lilith—took power ("democratically, by force") and reformed it into a legitimate trade hub and a melting pot of races.
Her voice darkens when she reaches the Great Chaos War.
A meaningless war. False accusations. The intervention of "heroes summoned from another world" by the rival kingdom, Truman.
Those heroes slaughtered her mother and devastated Shadowfall.
Then they went mad and attacked everyone—until they were finally eliminated.
Now, Shadowfall is nothing but a shadow. Forgotten. Despised.
"That is why you are here," Andras says, her orange eyes locking onto mine with sudden intensity. "The prophecies speak of a new summoning. One that could restore balance… or doom us forever."
I swallow. The harem fantasy evaporates instantly.
"I understand the history. But… why me? And more importantly… where are my friends? There were others with me when the lights appeared."
Andras and Slyther exchange a heavy look.
"Golden and red lights, you said," Slyther mutters, his sulfur eyes gleaming. "We use a ritual of shadows and blood. It draws a soul compatible with darkness… like yours, apparently."
"Like mine?" I ask, a chill running down my spine.
"Golden and red lights…" Andras frowns. "That is the signature of the Grand Solar Temple of Truman. Their summoning ritual is… more theatrical. And selective. They seek souls of 'pure heroic virtue.'"
A heavy silence falls.
The pieces click together with a sickening sound.
They summoned me—someone compatible with darkness.
Truman summoned others—people with 'heroic' hearts.
Hanako. Strict, but fair.
Max, always trying to help.
Akira, loyal and strong.
Carlos, calm and unshakable.
Even Frank—the idiot, but stubborn enough to pass for determination.
Real panic grips my stomach.
"Do you… think my friends were summoned by the enemy?"
Before they can answer, a thunderous metallic sound echoes outside the hall—an alarm.
Slyther snaps to attention. Andras straightens, and for a brief moment, an aura of ancient, true, shadowed power radiates from her small body.
"The portal ruins' sentinels!" Slyther exclaims. "Something has just materialized on the Ashen Plains!"
Andras looks at me, her orange eyes burning.
"Your arrival was not an isolated accident, Alex. It was the opening move. And if Truman has your friends…"
Her voice hardens.
"Then the war that killed my mother has just begun again. And you and I are standing right in the middle of it."