Tutorials Are Scary

They say that when a person is shaken badly enough, the words simply will not come. I was the picture of it.

The man in the seat ahead, cursed out of nowhere, couldn't string another sentence together either. He had to be feeling the same.

Up in the carriage, the air gone suddenly cold, I scrambled to get a grip on what was happening. I could hear it—the furious whir of my own head spinning.

A former shut-in who had gorged on every genre without discrimination, I knew what there was to know. Sort the stories about falling into a game, and they come in three broad kinds.

One: the young man who simply loves the game. Thousands of hours poured in, every achievement cleared, every ending seen, the easter eggs scraped so clean there was nothing left—and then the keywords new patch, hidden route, sequel hook him, and down he goes, transmigrated in a single gulp.

Two: the one who left a 5,700-character wall of feedback beginning ah, dear developer, this is kind of fucking bullshit, are you kidding me right now, if you were going to do this why did you even make the game, I am genuinely losing my mind... and got hit with a don't like it, then you do it, and transmigrated.

Three: the poor bastard dropped, out of nowhere, into a game he has never heard of. Sister product: the I fell into a novel, comic, anime, movie, or light novel I don't know series. For the record, I was this one.

...Fuck. Now that I thought about it, this was unfair. Wasn't it common sense that everything in the world, whatever it was, ought to have a clear cause and effect?

I hadn't left a novel-length hate comment. I wasn't even a veteran. So why me?

I slowly lowered my head and looked down.

My body. Inside a loose one-piece that might have been a nun's habit or a mage's robe, a woman's curves and bearing showed through in glimpses. I didn't need to touch it to know it was soft, fine as down.

And the two hands laid neatly on my thighs. I fidgeted my fingers for no good reason. Pale, sleek skin—fingers so slender and delicate that slender jade rose to mind all on its own.

A woman's body, through and through. The body of the woman who should have been my wife...

I swallowed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sigh trying to escape. I had taken stock, more or less. Now I had to settle on a course of action.

As a rule, a game-transmigration story ends when you reach the game's ending. At least, as far as I knew. Hidden ending, true ending, whatever it was. So the first priority was getting there in one piece.

The problem was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everything between here and there. I didn't know this game. Was it one of those spite-riddled things where a single choice splits life from death? A raising game where you train and train again, and still miss the good ending if you haven't done the stat work? Or an action game you have to clear with a circus act of raw physicality and precise control?

"Hey, Sister! The magic school's here, so hop down already!"

"Ah—yes!"

...For now, clear the tutorial, then think.

When I stepped down from the carriage, enormous, imposing medieval buildings stood in a long row along the avenue. What did they call it—Romanesque? Gothic? Something like that. Tip my head back, and here and there, as befitted a school of mages, spires stabbed high into the sky. Lower my gaze a little, and between those splendid buildings sat ordinary timber houses and stone houses that looked like homes and shops.

Right. This was just like...

"...an academy city!"

Academy fiction, opening move: the school is one giant self-governing city. Well, it was a medieval university town. The name itself was obviously Oxbridge with the paint still wet. Oxenbridge, wasn't it?

I stood blankly in front of the main gate for a while, turning that idle thought over. If the tutorial quest held, the guide NPC would come find me on their own.

Sure enough, after I had waited quietly for about ten minutes, someone appeared and spoke.

"You there. Are you the Ecclesial Scholarship Student who was supposed to arrive today?"

"Ah, yes."

A chest generous enough to pull the eye all by itself—no. What the eye went to first, no matter who was looking, were the horns curled above a pair of ears ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that were plainly not human. An Ovinan. Sheep beastfolk. A woman who looked a little old to be a student, and rather young to be one of the staff.

She ran her gaze up and down me and let out a nasal hmm—. Not to be outdone, I hurriedly gave her figure a thorough once-over of my own.

"Well then, I'll guide you as far as the dormitory, so will you come along? Oh—I'm Meheris. After graduating, I've been studying as a postgraduate research student in Theurgy, the divine magic school. I may not look it, but I'm your senior, you know? Please take care of me."

How is a sheep beastfolk named Meheris?

"Ah... I'm in your care, senior. I'm Anastacia."

"All right, Anastacia. Come along, then."

I followed my postgraduate senior deeper onto the school grounds. Every time Meheris took a step ahead of me, the tail swaying at her back drew the eye something fierce, but I forced my chin up and listened to her explanation. Staring at nothing but the backside of the person walking in front of you is, beyond all denial, the mark of a complete pervert...

"...The buildings off to the left of the Main Building here are all lecture halls, and across the bridge in back is the research wing. On the other side you've got the student dining hall and the grocers..."

...Honestly, I had no idea which was which. To my eyes the buildings all looked the same, and the alleys were every one of them much of a muchness.

Still, this was a game, wasn't it? Wasn't there a minimap somewhere?

Tch.

No help for it. I had no choice but to cram Meheris's dull, pedantic explanations into my head as far as they would go.

After about four intersections and two bridges, what appeared was an exceedingly modest, rather shabby two-story building.

"...And last, before the dormitory! This chapel is our Oxenbridge's proud chapel."

Uh... um...

"...It has a humble sort of charm."

At the answer I had worked so hard to dress up, Meheris let out an awkward little laugh and went on.

"Well, as I'm sure you know, junior, mages are mostly nonbelievers, aren't they? Aside from the rare few who believe in the God of Magic, or Ecclesial Scholarship Students like us, people have no reason to come to the chapel. That's why."

There it was. The worldbuilding dump unique to tutorial NPCs!

Wait...

"'Like us'? You're an Ecclesial Scholarship Student?"

At my question Meheris tilted her head, puzzled, and looked at me.

"Hm? You didn't notice? I was an Ecclesial Scholarship Student too. See, I'm wearing a habit as well, aren't I? Though after I graduated, I had to scrape together the research student's tuition myself."

Now that she mentioned it, Meheris's clothes were a one-piece beige robe, just like mine. So this was what they called a habit. Noted. I mumbled through, doing my best not to look suspicious.

"Oh—r-right, of course. The carriage trip left me so tired and scatterbrained..."

"Hmm—well, was that it? It happens. I was thoughtless, keeping hold of a tired junior. Let's go to the dormitory now."

Whew. Did I get through that?

Fumble in a place like this and let things twist badly even once, and the whole transmigrated life is ruined on the spot. I had to keep my head screwed on.

True to a tutorial NPC, Meheris's stream of explanation didn't let up even on the way to the dormitory.

"As you'll see, you can more or less tell the school's people apart by the color of their outer cloaks. Students are blue, as a rule; research students like me are green; and the faculty wear black. What you wear under the cloak is up to you, though most people dress to suit their station. Ecclesial Scholarship Students like us wear habits, and the children of noble houses wear splendid velvet or silk you can spot even from a distance."

Or:

"The dormitory block is a four-story villa. The first floor is shared living space—kitchen, parlor, communal baths—and from the second floor to the fourth, three students live on each. Obviously third-years use the second floor, second-years the third, and first-years the fourth."

Or:

"Hm? Why is a research student like me guiding freshmen, you ask? Hehe, would 'adult circumstances' do for an answer? I'm joking. This is all just part of the work a work-study scholar has to do. The Church doesn't cover tuition for research students, so we have to earn it ourselves."

Or...

After I had diligently jammed all that game information into my skull, we arrived at a boxy residential building, shaped like a Roman insula.

"Here. This is the dormitory villa where you'll be staying. My guiding ends here! Well? Was it any help?"

"Yes, enormously. Truly—far more useful than you could be thinking..."

I wasn't joking.

All I had known was that it was a game set at a magic school, and nothing else:

Against that blank, the explanations and setting details Meheris had given me were extremely useful clues.

For instance: probably—with a very high probability, and please let it be so—this place, a magic school for its setting, was a game of the raising simulation sort, wasn't it? You know. Like that game where you raise a princess. Repeat the schedule you're given for a set stretch of time, and an ending arrives according to how you raised her. If that was the case, my goal would be to study hard, collect good marks, and endure all the way to graduation.

"Hehe. Anastacia, you have a kind heart, don't you? It makes me glad to hear you say so."

And games of that kind usually have an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠affection system. Which meant I needed to stay close, and on easy terms, with the people around me. So I ought to get along with this postgraduate senior, who seemed to know a great deal and to like people.

"Well then, shall I give my good junior a present?"

Yes—just like this! Speak sweetly on the way in, and the sweets come tumbling after.

Meheris stepped in close, smiling, and whispered in a small voice.

"Anastacia, would you check the inner pocket of your habit? There should be one little notebook in there."

As she said, I felt along the inside of my clothes at the chest, searching out the inner pocket. Soft... and squishy...—no! Just as she'd said, something small and square met my fingers. Its presence was so distinct that I wondered how I hadn't noticed it until now.

When I drew it out, it was a notebook bound in black leather.

"Go on, open it."

"Y-yes."

Still whispering in that tiny voice right under my nose, Meheris prompted me, and I turned the cover and opened the first page.

And then...

Writing began to crowd, dense, onto the notebook's first page.

I dragged my eyes off the notebook with an effort and looked up at Meheris. My pupils were shaking without mercy.

Fuck. What was this. Why hand out a quest reward like that. An NPC who breaks the fourth wall is terrifying...

Meheris looked down at me with the same face as ever, whispered one last thing, and left.

"Hic—!"

...A little late to bring it up, but I had always hated spoilers.

From here on, though, I hate psychological horror even more than spoilers.

"Hhk—!"

Fuck...