The corridor outside the lecture halls was quieter now, the midday rush of students thinning into scattered groups and solitary figures hurrying to their next class. Sarah stood frozen, heart hammering against her ribs, staring at the aftermath of the collision.
Miko Naein was a disaster in motion.
She wasn't just gathering her scattered books and scrolls; she was performing a frantic, full-body apology. She'd dropped to her hands and knees, bowing her head so low her forehead almost touched the polished flagstones, her whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
"I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! I'LL PAY FOR ANY DAMAGES! PLEASE DON'T REPORT ME! I'LL DO ANYTHING! I CAN CLEAN! I CAN RUN ERRANDS! I'LL GIVE YOU MY LUNCH MONEY FOR THE NEXT MONTH! JUST PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!"
Her voice was a high-pitched, panicked shriek that echoed in the now-empty corridor. Tears streamed down her face in two steady rivers, dripping onto the pages of a fallen textbook. Her vibrant green hair, styled in soft waves and delicate braids, was now a mess, with strands stuck to her wet cheeks. Her large, round glasses were fogged with her crying. She looked utterly, catastrophically terrified of Sarah's mere existence.
Sarah just stared, the System's warning blaring in her mind—[USR Rank. SSS+ Potential. Primary Ability: Imaginary. Extreme threat potential.]—completely at odds with the weeping puddle of anxiety before her.
"Hey, hey, it's fine," Sarah finally managed, holding up her hands in what she hoped was a non-threatening manner. "Really. It was an accident. Look, I'm not even mad."
"YOU'RE NOT?" Miko squeaked, peeking up with one eye, her whole body still locked in a bow. "BUT YOU SHOULD BE! I'M A NUISANCE! MY BROTHER SAYS I'M A HUMAN ACCIDENT WAITING TO HAPPEN! HE SAYS IF I WALKED INTO AN EMPTY ROOM I'D STILL FIND A WAY TO BREAK SOMETHING AND APOLOGIZE TO THE FURNITURE!"
Despite herself, a snort of laughter escaped Sarah. It was the most ridiculous thing she'd heard all day. "Okay, first, your brother sounds like a jerk. Second, get up off the floor. People are staring."
Miko scrambled to her feet so fast she almost fell over again, clutching her books to her chest like a lifeline. Her eyes darted around frantically. "OH NO! PEOPLE ARE LOOKING! THEY THINK I'M CAUSING A SCENE! I'M DISRUPTING THE ACADEMY'S HARMONIOUS LEARNING ENVIRONMENT! I'M A BLIGHT ON—"
"Breathe," Sarah interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended.
Miko immediately sucked in a ragged breath and held it, her cheeks puffing out, eyes bulging behind her fogged glasses. She looked like a terrified chipmunk.
"Okay, now let it out. Slowly."
Miko exhaled in a long, shaky wheeze. The trembling decreased from earthquake levels to minor aftershock.
"Right. I'm Sarah. You bumped into me. No one's hurt. No one's reporting anyone. Can we maybe... move this to somewhere less... public?"
Miko nodded so vigorously her glasses almost flew off. "YES! YES! ANYWHERE! I'LL GO ANYWHERE YOU SAY! JUST DON'T MAKE ME GO TO THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE! LAST TIME I WAS THERE FOR ACCIDENTALLY SETTING A TOPIARY BUSH ON FIRE DURING A BOTANY LESSON AND HE MADE ME WRITE 'I WILL NOT IGNITE FLORA' FIVE HUNDRED TIMES AND MY HAND CRAMPED FOR A WEEK AND—"
Sarah grabbed Miko's arm—gently—and began steering her down a side hallway. "We're not going to the headmaster. We're going to... find a bench. And you're going to stop talking about your various crimes against academia."
They found a secluded bench in a dusty, forgotten courtyard that seemed used only for storing broken magical apparatus. The air smelled of rust and old ozone. It was perfect.
Miko sat on the very edge of the bench, back ramrod straight, hands folded in her lap, staring ahead like a prisoner awaiting sentencing. Every few seconds, a full-body shudder would wrack her frame.
"So," Sarah began, sitting beside her with considerably less tension. "Miko, right?"
A tiny, jerky nod.
"You're... really sorry about the bump."
Another nod, more vigorous. "IT WAS THE WORST THING I'VE EVER DONE AND I ONCE ACCIDENTALLY RELEASED A COLONY OF MANA-SENSITIVE BATS INTO THE GIRLS' DORMITORY."
Sarah decided to ignore that. "And you're scared of... everything?"
"YES," Miko whispered, her voice finally dropping from a shriek to a terrified murmur. "Everything is scary. Stairs are scary because I might trip. Spoons are scary because I might drop them. Conversations are scary because I might say the wrong thing. Existing is scary because I might do it wrong." She clutched her own arms. "My brother says I have the survival instincts of a concussed moth."
Sarah blinked. The raw, unfiltered anxiety was almost impressive in its totality. The System's analysis flashed again—this impossibly powerful creature, crippled by her own terror. It was the most bizarre protective camouflage she could imagine.
"You know," Sarah said slowly, "back where I'm from, there's a saying. 'Feel the fear and do it anyway.'"
Miko turned to look at her, eyes wide with horror. "THAT'S THE MOST TERRIFYING THING I'VE EVER HEARD! WHY WOULD ANYONE DO THAT? IF YOU'RE AFRAID OF SOMETHING, YOU SHOULD HIDE FROM IT! OR APOLOGIZE TO IT PREEMPTIVELY!"
A real, genuine laugh burst from Sarah this time. It felt strange in her throat. "Okay, fair point. Bad advice." She looked at the trembling girl. "What are you even doing here? At this Academy? It seems like... the worst possible place for you."
Miko's shoulders slumped. "My brother. He's... he's very important. And he said I needed to 'cultivate latent talents' and 'overcome my debilitating personality flaws in a structured environment.'" She recited the words like a grim mantra. "I think he just wanted me out of the house. I break a lot of heirlooms."
The conversation continued in fits and starts. Sarah learned that Miko was a second-year, that she hid in the library to avoid people, that she had a pet rock named Sir Reginald that she was convinced judged her life choices, and that she was currently failing Practical Evocation because she was too scared to summon anything more threatening than a faint glow.
In return, Sarah offered almost nothing about herself. But she listened. And for the first time, she wasn't being assessed as a threat, a tool, or an alien. She was just... an audience for Miko's endless stream of catastrophes.
As they finally stood to leave—Miko because she was terrified of being late for Alchemical Safety, Sarah because she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing—Miko suddenly rummaged in her bag.
She pulled out a small, slightly squashed pastry wrapped in wax paper. It smelled of cinnamon and apples.
"Here," she said, thrusting it at Sarah without making eye contact. "It's an apology pastry. For the bump. And for my existence generally. My brother says I should offer gifts to mitigate social damage. I was saving it for when I inevitably offended a professor, but... you didn't yell. Or hit me. That was... nice."
Sarah stared at the pastry, then at Miko's trembling hand. This wasn't friendship. This was a transaction from a mind that viewed human interaction as a minefield. But it was an offering. A terrified, clumsy, genuine offering.
She took the pastry. "Thanks." She hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. She had nothing to give in return. Then she remembered the book tucked in her own bag—a slim volume she'd picked up on a whim from a stall near the inn. It had been a passing thought, but now it felt necessary. "Wait. I, uh... I have something for you too."
Miko froze, her eyes wide with renewed panic. "FOR ME? WHY? I DON'T DESERVE A THING! I'M A MENACE!"
"Just take it," Sarah said, digging in her bag and pulling out the book. It was a slim, well-worn volume with a faded cover depicting a single, vibrant butterfly against a stark gray background. The title was embossed in peeling silver foil: Freedom of Butterfly.
She held it out. "I saw it and... I don't know. It seemed like it might be your kind of thing."
Miko stared at the book as if it were a live serpent. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she reached out and took it. She traced the embossed butterfly with a delicate touch, her breathing hitching.
"Freedom of Butterfly," she whispered, the title sounding fragile on her lips. She looked up at Sarah, her magnified eyes swimming with fresh, confused tears. "No one... no one has ever given me a book before. I... I don't understand. Is this a trick? Am I supposed to read it and then there's a pop quiz? Or does it explode?"
"It's just a book," Sarah said, her voice softer than she intended. "No tricks. No quizzes. Definitely no explosions. I promise."
Miko clutched the book to her chest, right beside her squashed pastry, as if they were both priceless treasures. Her lower lip wobbled. "Thank you," she squeaked, the words barely audible. "I'll... I'll protect it with my life! I'll read it every day! I'll probably cry while reading it, but that's normal for me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
She nodded rapidly, already backing away. "OKAYBYENOWGOODLUCKDON'TDIE!" she squeaked before turning and sprinting down the corridor, somehow managing to trip over absolutely nothing before vanishing around a corner, the book and pastry held securely against her heart.
Sarah stood in the dusty courtyard, holding a slightly warm apology pastry, the System's [Extreme Threat Potential] warning still etched in her mind.
The most dangerous being she had ever encountered was a sobbing, shrieking bundle of nerves who gave pastries as appeasement offerings, was scared of spoons, and was now probably weeping over a used book about a butterfly.
She took a bite of the pastry. It was delicious.
The world, she decided, was deeply, profoundly weird.