The princess didn't say another word. She simply turned her back, descended the steps from the throne, and walked through the giant double doors. A guard stepped forward as they creaked shut behind her.
"Follow me," he said curtly.
We obeyed, the air heavy with tension as we stepped into the hallway beyond — and just like that, we were truly inside a fantasy world.
The floor was polished white marble, so pristine I could see my reflection in it. The walls were made of a strange material I didn't recognize — smooth, slightly iridescent, not quite stone, not quite metal. A long crimson carpet, trimmed with thin black lines, ran the length of the corridor beneath our feet. Above us, massive chandeliers dangled from the high ceiling, each holding a floating orb of light sealed in a chamber of crystal. No wires. No flames. Just pure magic illuminating the hallway with a gentle golden glow.
But what really drew my attention were the paintings lining the walls.
The first one showed what I assumed was the royal family. The princess stood at the center, wearing something that looked like a wedding dress — elegant and white, with soft, puffy shoulders. Her black hair draped over her left shoulder, and a small, silver tiara rested on her head, set with a single glowing blue gem. Next to her stood who I assumed was her twin brother. The resemblance was uncanny — pale skin, the same piercing blue eyes, and equally black hair. He wore a simple white suit, clean-cut and formal, with a crown nearly identical to the princess's.
Above and to the left of them was the king — older, with streaks of gray in his jet-black hair and a full beard. He wore a plain white ceremonial robe. Beside him was the queen, in a dress similar to her daughter's but more mature, her own tiara matching theirs. It was… understated. No excessive gold, no towering crowns. No gem-encrusted robes or ostentatious symbols of wealth.
My first thought was
:Are they poor?"
But then we saw the next painting, and that idea died immediately.
These weren't just portraits. These were stories — vivid, brutal, honest.
In one, the king led a legion into battle, stomping across broken earth while jagged rocks rose around him, aimed at creatures straight out of a Lovecraftian nightmare — rotting flesh, dozens of limbs, eyes in places eyes shouldn't be.
Another showed the princess standing over the corpse of a massive, nine-legged beast, its grotesque head some twisted hybrid of a goat and a pig. She was kneeling, wounded and bleeding, white specks of light drifting around her like embers. Her eyes burned with fury.
In the next, the prince swung a glowing white sword against a horde of wraithlike figures — black, eyeless, and wispy, hovering above the ground like smoke given form. They looked emaciated. Hungry.
Then came the queen, clad in gleaming silver armor, lightning crackling around her. She stood firm before a colossal red dragon, her sword raised while the beast reared back, fire pooling in its throat.
We all slowed as we walked, the weight of the images sinking in — but Omar broke the silence first.
"These motherfuckers are insane," he muttered, squinting up at the paintings. "Like... this ain't even fantasy bullshit anymore. This shit happened. These are trophies, man. Accomplishments."
Joe gave him a sideways glance, then looked to Sito and me. "This… this is really the world you wanna stay in?"
"I don't know," Sito said quietly.
I turned to Sito. He was the one I'd been sure about — the one I thought would say yes without hesitation. But he just shrugged, his voice calm and unreadable.
"Look, swords and magic and adventure sound cool and all, but I don't know if I can stand in front of a thousand-eyed monster and convince myself I actually want to fight it. Let's be real. We're not soldiers. We didn't train for this. We could die." He shook his head. "I'll see what the training's like. I'll give you an answer at the end of the week."
I didn't argue. I didn't feel disappointed. I understood.
All of them were just regular people. They had lives. People who cared about them. I don't know why I expected them to drop everything just because the idea of a fantasy world was appealing. Liking isekai anime doesn't mean you actually want to live one.
"I still want to stay," I said, louder than I intended. "Because I know what's waiting for me back there. The second I get sent home, I'm going to be right back on that step, im going to see that alley. I'm going to smell that piss-stained concrete and feel the same damn emptiness I always felt, and I'm gonna regret it. Every. Single. Day."
They didn't say anything. I kept going.
"I'd rather die here — fighting monsters, living the life I want — than die on some random Tuesday, shot in the back for nothing, or old and bitter wondering what could've been. I'm staying. And nothing's gonna change my mind."
We walked the rest of the way in silence, up a set of white marble stairs, around a corner, and into a quieter hall. Four doors lined the walls — two on each side.
"These are your rooms," the knight said. "They're identical. Choose whichever you like."
He turned to me and Sito. "Training begins at sunrise. Someone will fetch you in the morning."
Then, to Omar and Joe, he added, "You'll be brought breakfast."
Before we could ask any questions, he turned and walked away.
I didn't feel like talking. I opened the nearest door and stepped inside.
The room was simple but beautiful. A bed with fresh linens. A wardrobe. A small desk. On the ceiling, a glass orb — just like the ones in the chandeliers — hovered in a metal cradle, glowing softly with golden light. No switches. No wires. Just magic.
I walked over to the bed and collapsed onto it without undressing. I didn't even pull the blanket over myself.
My thoughts spun as the soft light hummed above me, but my body was already giving out. No more questions. No more arguments.
Sleep took me like a wave.