My Roommate Is Acting Strange

Every so often, you run into games like that — games where the characters start making meta remarks. Not lines aimed at the player character, but at the player, the person sitting in front of the monitor. Or the NPCs notice when you slam Alt+F4 in a rage before the autosave can fire, boot the game back up, and act as if they know exactly what you did.

Of course, that doesn't mean the NPCs actually possess selves, or that they truly recognize themselves as characters inside a game. It is only behavior the developers intended. Coded behavior, made of zeroes and ones.

Just as actors in a play break the fourth wall to close the distance with the audience in their seats, it is staging, through and through.

For some reason, the little gremlins of the gaming world lose their minds over this sort of direction. These days it has been done to death — meta commentary spat out at every opportunity — until the whole trick gets written off as a tired cliché.

Wow, you know about that! I. Am. So. Impressed!

Anyway.

In a game, all of that is the developer's deliberate staging. But what about now? Now that I had stepped into the world inside the game and become Anastacia?

Had Meheris simply spoken a line she had been trained to speak, exactly as intended? Or had she said it while truly aware that this was a world inside a game?

I don't know. For the moment, it was a question I could turn over as long as I liked and still never settle — an answer I simply did not have.

Thoughts without answers could wait for a future version of me. I leaned back against the wall of the dormitory and returned to the Journal.

The Character Sheet had been the first page. I turned the notebook one leaf further.

Tch.

It seemed like something that would unlock once I finished the tutorial, or later, by some other means.

I turned the notebook again.

"Oh."

The third page was a schedule. Well, of course. A raising sim needs an event timetable. The left-hand page held the near future; the right displayed something that looked exactly like a class grid from a college timetable app.

No pre-term engagements, no special events — classes starting tomorrow. Brutal. Telling myself I would have to be up early, I turned the page once more.

Hm. A glossary? Might as well check one.

Okay, skipping. I got the gist. Live the school life, and if some bit of setting starts to go fuzzy, check here. Noted.

I turned the page again.

A minimap had spread itself open. And judging by that little arrow blinking in front of the building marked Dormitory Wing, it showed my current location as well.

Hm. Looking at it this way, the dormitory faced west. Stupid Western developers who didn't know the first thing about feng shui. Yeah. I could see exactly what level they were operating at.

Once I had given the campus a rough once-over, I turned the page.

Oho. A quest log?

The next page was blank, which told me everything after this belonged to the Log tab. Keep living the school life, and the entries would stack up one after another.

To sum it up, the Journal was divided like this: a Character Sheet; an Inventory, still locked; a Schedule; a Glossary; a Minimap; and a Log.

The moment I slipped the leather notebook back into the inner pocket of my habit, a notice rose before my eyes.

Hm. So side objectives weren't the sort of thing you were warned about in advance. Still, an experience point was an experience point. I'll take it!

I yanked the notebook back out and checked the Log. Sure enough, one more line had been written.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I happened to look up. Evening was already coming on. The sun had still been high when I first stepped down from the carriage, but between Meheris's tour of the grounds and checking the Journal entry by entry, a good deal of time had passed. I decided that was enough, and went into the dormitory wing. Dinner was due, I had to get ready for school tomorrow, and if I meant to wake early, I ought to sleep early. I was a little tired, besides.

I opened the door, and the whole of the first floor came into view at once. I had expected brick walls to feel hard and cold, but the place was cozier than I had thought. The walls were dressed in curtains — tapestries? — and a carpet lay over the floor, lending everything a warmth, while candles burned in sconces here and there. It looked like a scene from a Christmas film. All in all, not a bad facility.

I was about to start up the stairs when one of the seniors — I assumed — seated around the dining hall called me to a stop. Deep dark circles lay under their eyes, and the whole impression was of someone rather worn out.

"You there. New student?"

"Ah, yes! Hello. Please look after me, seniors. My name is Anastacia."

"Yeah, yeah. Good that you're here. There's a dorm orientation tomorrow night, all right? Come down to the first floor after dinner. Introductions and all that happen then, so don't forget. Got it?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Head on up. A mail carriage dropped the luggage off a little while ago. Your roommate took yours, so check that nothing's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠missing."

"Yes. Thank you!"

I bowed and started up the stairs.

Whew. The seniors seemed decent enough. No manufactured-hardship pattern along the lines of harassment by delinquent dorm seniors. Lucky me.

Still — stairs the whole way to the fourth floor. This was not going to be easy.

If I had been an engineering student, I could have invented an elevator with god-tier magical physics, been revered as a genius of magitech, collected head-pats, and wrapped the whole thing up as one tidy isekai arc. Unfortunately I was arts and athletics, so none of that applied. On top of that, a woman's body seemed to carry its weight in an entirely different place from when I had been a man, and every single step felt awkward. As a man, I had balanced from the shoulders. Now it was the sway of my hips and pelvis that kept me upright.

Ugh. That line of thought was about to turn indecent, so I was stopping it there. I could explore this body whenever I liked, later, once I was alone.

Breathing a little hard, I reached the fourth floor. Past the arched doorway that divided the stairs from the living quarters, I stepped straight into a broad common room — and a classical beauty with golden hair and blue eyes was coming toward me.

"Whoa..."

Beautiful enough that the admiration slipped out on its own. Through long lashes, the outer corners of her eyes dipped just slightly, and the look in them was melancholy, faintly sorrowful. That was the point of her, maybe. Seen that way, she seemed a little timid, too.

Special rule of fiction: an unrealistically beautiful character is what? A major character. And judging by her clothes, she was one hundred percent the treasured daughter of a thriving noble house. Which meant I absolutely had to get close to her.

"Um..."

She hesitated, fumbling for the words.

"Is... your name... Anastacia...?"

What? What was she implying? That she had studied my name in advance? That she was that interested in me?

"Yes, that's me. Is something the matter?"

"I—I was trying to sort the luggage, and... I opened Anastacia's bag by mistake... I-I'm sorry..."

Ah. So that was it. And once again, I was the only one being sincere. Haah... farewell, my love...

"Hey, it's fine. Anyone can make a mistake. Don't worry about it."

I reassured her that it was nothing, but she still watched my face as if she couldn't quite settle.

"E-even so, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just in case... would you check? Something might be missing... or mixed in..."

"Sure, I don't mind. Will that put you at ease?"

She nodded. And nodded again.

Fine. Might as well.

She led me to a corner of the common room, where a large leather bag sat wide open, half its contents already showing.

"All right. Shall I check?"

Another pair of nods.

I began lifting the contents out one by one, setting them neatly to the side, and building a list in my head. First, three beige habits, the same as the one I was wearing, folded with care. Then two black habits. Several leather belts. A great heap of plain white cotton underthings, socks, and stockings. Two dresses that looked like nightgowns, or perhaps indoor wear. Two pairs of leather shoes, wrapped so they wouldn't dirty the rest.

That was the clothing. Next came one enormous book, hard and heavy and thick enough to serve as a blunt weapon, with Scripture written on the cover. Then a book less hard, less heavy, and less thick, though still perfectly serviceable as a club, its cover reading Prayer Book. Then one perfectly ordinary volume of reasonable size, weight, and thickness, with nothing written on the outside. A quick flip through suggested some kind of spellbook. A textbook, probably.

Besides those, a pile of everyday things — washing gear, writing tools, and the like. A bundle of paper meant for notes. And a small coin pouch stuffed with a jumble of copper and silver.

Nothing remarkable, and nothing lacking. Exactly what you would expect in a new student's bag at a magic academy.

I looked up at her — at the girl who had watched, breath held and utterly focused, the whole time I set the things down.

"Ah, come to think of it, what's your name? I forgot to ask."

She blinked several times before she answered.

"Ah, I... I'm Olivia, of Count Claudel's house... Olivia Claudel. At school... you can just call me Olivia..."

A noble, as expected. And right on cue, the second iron rule of academy stories: within the school, everyone is equal regardless of station. A commoner can absolutely be best friends with the crown prince. Coming from a democratic republic, I was able to nod without the slightest hesitation or fear.

"All right. I'll call you Olivia, then. I'm counting on you."

"Wh— yes, yes... I'm counting on you, too..."

Oh!

I was grinning when Olivia carefully tried again.

"Um, then, Anastacia... there's nothing missing... or added in...?"

"No. Everything's just as it should be, so you can relax."

"R-really? Then all of it... is yours?"

There was something almost desperate in the way she asked. Still crouched in front of the bag, I lifted my head and studied her face.

I had no idea. What could matter so much that she kept asking?

I held her eyes and nodded, slowly.

"...Yes."

"Ah... I... th-then I understand. Excuse me for a moment..."

With that, Olivia hurried past me and all but ran down the stairs. I looked out the window. Her back was already scurrying off toward somewhere, dyed yellow and red beneath the fading sunset.

"What... what was that..."

A strange first meeting.

I sat there blankly for a while, then slowly got to my feet. The dormitory was built around one large common room with three bedrooms opening off it. Each door had a nameplate, so I could tell which room was mine. The innermost was Olivia Claudel — the young noblewoman's room. The outermost was Sophie. No family name; a commoner, maybe? And the middle room was Anastacia. Ah. I didn't have a family name either.

The common room was very spacious. The bedroom, by contrast, was cramped enough that a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk filled it completely. It really did look like a place meant only for sleeping. I went back and forth several times, carrying my things in and putting every last one of them away, and only then did the fatigue hit all at once. I really had been tired.

Thinking back on it, I had been possessed out of nowhere and ridden a rattling carriage without understanding a thing. I had walked the grounds for quite a while on a tour of the school. I had put real effort into sorting the wardrobe and the drawers. Of course I was tired.

"Maybe I'll lie down for a bit."

I still needed dinner. Or I could skip it and eat a solid breakfast tomorrow. I didn't even know what time the student dining hall opened. Was it free? Did I have to pay? I hoped it was free.

And at some point, I must have drifted off.

In a pitch-black darkness ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where not a single light existed, I saw it: a mark blinking in the lower left of my vision.

And then, fade to black.

What pulled me out of that light sleep was someone's voice — firm, and high-handed.

"...Hm? Yes?"

They say that when a person is shocked badly enough, the words won't even come. I really hate that saying.

I sat up with a dazed mind and looked at what stood before me. What looked like ten armed soldiers had my bedside surrounded. And standing among them was my noble roommate, Olivia Claudel.

Reunion with my roommate was the worst it could possibly have been.