The sun barged through the window like someone entering a room without knocking.
Philip woke up with a grunt, rolled to the side, and fell out of bed with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.
He lay on the floor for a moment, staring at the ceiling.The castle stones seemed to mock him.
"…I should've quit when I died," he muttered.
He got up slowly, cracking his neck. Something felt different that morning. Not in the air — it still smelled like dust and despair — but inside him.An itch, a spark, an annoying little voice whispering: "You don't know anything, Philip. Not a damn thing."
"Right…" he murmured.
For days — maybe weeks — he'd just been going with the flow.They called him to fix spell-related tech issues, and he went."Restart the crystal, realign the energy flow, boom, monster stops glowing red."Done.
No questions, no context, no curiosity.The same autopilot mode as before.The same one that made him accept useless reports, unread spreadsheets, and cold coffee breaks.
But now — in a world where even the wind seemed to keep secrets — that habit of not thinking started to hurt.He realized just how comfortable it was to stay numb.
"I guess that's it," he said aloud while putting on his tunic. "Time for my brilliant, shiny brain to do something useful."
He walked to the table, grabbed his notebook (the one previously dedicated to doodling complaints about the lack of Wi-Fi), and turned to a blank page.
At the top, he scrawled in messy letters:"World Discovery Plan (Version 1.0 – Unstable Beta)"
Below, he began to list questions:
1.Where the hell am I?
2.Who created this "System"?
3.Why do I have a job but no training?
4.How do spells actually work?
5.And where's the coffee around here?
He looked at the list and smiled — half amused, half bitter."Yeah, it's a start."
He left the room with determined steps.
In the corridor, his footsteps echoed as his mind began to churn."Okay, but… why do we all live in the same building? I mean, castle."
He glanced at the tall, cold walls and the flickering torches."Is this like a dorm? Or a barracks?"
He kept walking, frowning."Can we leave? Like, freely? Or is there a punch clock at the door? Because I've never seen anyone go home. Actually… does anyone even have a home here?"
He stopped for a moment, staring at the ceiling."Are they all like me… or am I the only unlucky idiot in this dimensional mess?"
He sighed."And most importantly…" — he raised a finger as if about to unveil a great truth — "…do I get paid?"
He stood in silence for a few seconds, waiting for a divine response.Nothing.No mystical voice, no distant echo, not even a celestial intern handing him a payslip.
"Jesus… so many questions," he muttered, scratching his head. "Would be divine to have someone answer them."
He paused dramatically, glancing around as if challenging the universe."But of course, divinity here keeps the same working hours as HR — nine to never."
And so, grumbling and laughing to himself, Philip walked down the corridor — determined to squeeze answers out of a world that clearly ran on the same logic as an outdated operating system.