I turned in my sleep against the unusually rigid bed, blindly reaching for a pillow. I refused to open my eyes, believing that if I kept them closed, I would be able to retreat into a peaceful slumber.

  There was the sound of voices I didn’t recognize, a cacophony of foreign syllables. Perhaps everyone had gotten up and was simply waiting for me to leave the bed of my own volition.

  My eyes opened, and it felt like heavy chains were bound to my arms. Still, it was a sensation, not a fact. I leaned up from my unusually rigid bed and rubbed my eyes, as the chance to retreat into a peaceful slumber had long left since those voices entered my ears.

  The bed I was in had a simple black, metallic frame, and its size was suitable for a single person. Multiple beds of the same design lined the walls of the room I was in, with the feet of the beds pointing to the middle of the room, evenly spaced so that people getting into them wouldn’t bump into another inhabitant.

  All the beds in the room were empty, except for the one I sat in.

  That’s when I realized I was in the room where every bedridden person in bandages was yelling at me.

  What happened to them?

  The extent of their injuries and bandages wrapped around them gave me the impression they’d need to rest for a while, perhaps a few days to a week. But if magic is an element in healthcare, it’s possible that treatment can be accelerated with incredible efficacy.

  I lifted the blanket off me. That was when I discovered I was wearing clothes I had no recollection of making—a brown shirt with an uncomfortably rough texture and pants with an obvious stain. Thankfully, the underwear I made for myself yesterday was still there.

  Looking over my body, I realized there were still traces of cuts and dirt that I got from the cyan terrorist’s attack.

  I’ll need to shower.

  I got up, producing a pair of shoes of a more simplistic design, making and putting on socks, slipping into the shoes, and walking to the door.

  I turned the handle and walked down the hall, remembering the first time I left that room.

  The cacophony of voices got louder.

  My slow, cautious steps carried me to a room I’ve been in before twice, the main room where everyone else signed that paper that was handed out.

  There were more picnic tables, and it was filled with people eating. Plates were scattered in front of them, with different assortments of food. Some people were talking back and forth with their friends, laughing, even drinking together. It felt like a restaurant with a noisy, yet friendly atmosphere.

  That’s quite the multi-purpose room.

  A table with people I didn’t know faced me, staring at me for a second, before erupting into shouts and cheers. They wore the green uniform I saw earlier in the tunnel, and when they were fighting against the cyan-haired terrorist. Among those faces was Ms. Peach Blonde.

  People in green uniforms gathered around me. From the sounds of things, they were happy, though the sudden gathering was unusual.

  Within seconds, I was surrounded with no way to escape. A large hand from behind me was patting my shoulder. I’m sure it was congratulatory, but the whole situation felt uncomfortable, so I politely tried to remove the hand from my shoulder.

  It didn’t budge.

  Umm… let go, please?

  I put more effort into pushing it off, but its grip tightened further. I tapped it 3 times, trying to signal its owner that I didn’t want it there.

  Some syllables were spoken, and the owner of the large hand promptly let go.

  With the issue of the unwelcome hand out of the way, I looked at the faces of the crowd gathered around me. Aside from Ms. Peach Blonde’s face, there were 9 other faces, all with varying expressions. Among the 9, the largest person stood out the most, having the biggest build of the group. I don’t remember such a person being among them; maybe they were helping with the rescue?

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  A more familiar voice reached my ears as everyone around me turned to its source. The crowd parted, revealing my summoner. He motioned for me to follow him, and I gladly took the opportunity.

  You’re a lifesaver.

  A perfect time, too, as I heard my stomach grumble.

  He led me outside, opening the door to reveal a scene you’d likely see on Earth.

  Many people, students, teachers, more green uniforms, and townspeople were seated at various tables, eating at different paces. Some were relaxed, a few even giving the impression of following the strict rules of etiquette, and others were wolfing down their plates.

  To my left, the food was being cooked and served, following a similar layout to a buffet or mess hall counter. Behind the people managing the counter were a bunch of crates, with some of them partially opened.

  I walked up, grabbed a plate, and pointed to whatever looked the most appetizing. There were only 4 options: slices of steak carved from a large piece of meat, mashed potatoes, cooked greens, and slices of bread cut from a loaf with an extremely enticing aroma.

  Conflicted between avoiding eating too much to maintain my new physique, and fulfilling every craving I had, I caved in and pointed to all the options, and ended up being given portions of all that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to finish. Metal spoons, forks, and knives were provided in a wooden box, so I took one of each before following my summoner to wherever he sat.

  …

  I was brought to an empty table placed at the edge of the entire gathering. Nearby was the parked hovercraft I created on a whim.

  I pointed at my plate, before pointing my thumb at all the filled tables filled with people eating, intending to convey “did you already eat?” or “why didn’t you grab a plate?”

  My summoner merely shook his head, rubbing his belly. I’m guessing he already ate and didn’t press the matter further.

  The food was good, and the aroma of it made it all the more enjoyable. The only thing that prevented me from truly immersing myself in the flavors was my summoner staring at me.

  From his expression, he clearly had something to say, but didn’t, knowing the language barrier prevented us from understanding each other.

  Not wanting to eat in uncomfortable silence, I produced string dolls of both Ms. Black Ponytail and Ms. Grey, inquiring about their conditions. The last time I saw them, they should have been critically injured, but alive.

  He merely pointed somewhere behind me, and I followed the direction of his arm. It took me a few seconds to see the two women eating together peacefully, wrapped in bandages and patches, but still alive.

  Huh. These taste pretty good.

  The greens that I’ve now identified as asparagus had a distinct flavor that balanced out the greasiness of the steak and starchiness of the mashed potatoes. The bread had a nice, sweet flavor to it that wasn’t overwhelming. If the portions I had been given matched my appetite, I’d say it’s another perfect meal.

  Eventually, I became full. The plate still had remnants of the portions I’d been given.

  How do they handle food waste in this world?

  I put down my utensil before picking up the plate and looking around to see where dirty plates would be stored. That’s when I saw people take their empty plates and put them in a wooden box, as well as discard their utensils in another.

  When I walked up to it, there was a crate below waist level with food scraps. I scraped my plate over that before putting plates and utensils in their designated boxes, before returning to where my summoner sat. When I returned, multiple faces were sitting around the table.

  Fireboy, Snow White, Electric Blue, Brown-Haired Boy, and Blonde Girl, with my summoner immersed in whatever conversation they were having.

  All of them took notice of me, making various expressions. They all took turns speaking syllables I didn’t understand, but I took that as them greeting me in ways that suited their personalities.

  Snow White had the most enthusiastic greeting, immediately running to my parked hovercraft, getting on top, and grabbing the handles. Panic flooded my mind as I hurried over to him, intending to pull him off.

  “Stop!” I shouted, not caring about the language barrier.

  He sped up before I could reach him, using his ice to make various ramps and paths as he drove, even making a loop-da-loop.

  Snow White managed to make various jumps, and I watched, surprised at how intuitive I designed the hovercraft.

  The amazement over his driving skills was short-lived when he approached the loop, with him crashing into it, instead of the craft tilting back and riding along the loop. The craft stopped; he didn’t.

  Snow White flew through the air in a surprisingly graceful arc, his limbs flailing through the air, before stopping at its height, upside down with his arms free while his legs were enveloped in blue ice, hanging from a glacial formation.

  I looked at Electric Blue, who had her arm stretched out and a “I’m so done with this” expression on her face.

  I walked to the craft, imagining it ‘deactivating’ before using telekinesis to move it from where it stopped.

  When I turned around, there were varying expressions of disbelief at Snow White’s predicament. He merely replied with a smile and thumbs up- or in this case, a thumbs down- before speaking something.

  My summoner walked up next to me, staring at the dangling boy. Snow White’s expression changed from uncaring glee to discomfort and distress.

  We exchanged a look before erupting into uncontrollable laughter.

  “Why did you try driving it!?” I heard Kiori speak.

  My laugh died out when I realized I understood the words coming out of his mouth.