Among the quiet rustle of parchment and the warm scent of ancient paper, Lys and Cael sat at a long wooden table tucked deep into the library's interior. The chaos of the others was long gone—replaced by a calm quiet, broken only by the occasional creak of shifting bookshelves and the soft flutter of pages turning.
Cael leaned back slightly in his seat, scanning a page titled "Basic Geography of L'solia: From the Crystal Lakes to the Whispering Range." He didn't trust the map. Or the font. Why was the font so curly? What was it hiding?
Across from him, Lys hummed quietly, her nose buried in a large tome labeled "The Flora and Fauna of Overmorrowland: Volume One." Unlike Cael, her expression was curious, peaceful even, like she was settling into a story rather than scanning for red flags and political inconsistencies.
After a moment, Cael glanced up and asked, "Hey… so where were you from? Before this whole sparkly summoning fiasco."
Lys blinked, then smiled softly. "Oh. I was living in Canada. Big city, lots of noise, but plenty of places to disappear into, if you knew where to look. I was studying in university. Pre-vet. I wanted to become a veterinarian." She grinned. "Guess I'm still drawn to strange creatures… present company included."
Cael chuckled under his breath. "You calling me a strange creature?"
Lys flipped a page. "I'm not not saying it."
He smirked, but it quickly softened. "That's cool though. Wanting to help animals. That's… you know, wholesome."
"What about you?" she asked, looking up now. "Where'd you live?"
"Small town in the U.S.," he replied, shifting a bit in his seat. "Near a beach. Kind of place where people say 'hi' even if they don't like you, and the biggest event of the year is the summer fireworks over the pier. Quiet life. I liked it."
Lys nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds peaceful."
"Yeah, until you're yanked into a fantasy realm by glowing lights and a priest with too many rings." He muttered.
Lys snorted. "Fair."
He glanced at her again, curious. "So, why a vet? That your dream job or something you fell into?"
Lys shrugged lightly. "I guess… I just always loved animals. They don't lie to you, you know? They just are. I thought maybe if I could help them, I'd be doing something real. Something that matters."
Cael was quiet for a moment, staring down at his book without really seeing it. Then he said softly, "I think that's a good reason."
She tilted her head. "What about you? Any big plans back home?"
Cael's smile faltered for a half-second, and he quickly busied himself with turning a page. "Not really. I kept things small. Plans tend to fall apart anyway, right?"
Lys didn't press. She just smiled and went back to her book.
Cael tapped his pen against the side of his book, his brow furrowed. "Okay, tell me if I'm wrong—but is this demon lord thing always part of the deal?"
Lys grinned without looking up. "You mean the 'summoned to another world to defeat the demon lord' thing?"
"Exactly. I mean, we were glowing. The priest looked like he walked out of a cosplay convention. And we got shiny weapons. This is textbook isekai."
She giggled. "You've read them too?"
"I read enough to recognize the warning signs," Cael muttered. "Which is why I asked the priest if it was a crime to not go on the hero's journey. Because I swear to god, we're one plot twist away from unlocking a hidden power through friendship or trauma."
Lys laughed, closing her book with a soft thump. "What gets me is the way this place just expects us to know what to do. 'Here's a sword, go fight evil!' No training montage, no instruction manual. Just... vibes."
Cael raised an eyebrow. "And magic. Can't forget the vague mystical aura of destiny. That's always there."
"Don't forget the royalty," Lys added with a playful smirk. "There's always a princess. Usually blonde. Always at least one royal who's suspicious of the heroes. And the nobles? Assholes. Guaranteed."
"Or secretly evil," Cael said, nodding. "Bonus points if they wear capes."
They both burst into laughter, the kind that you could only have after being yanked from your reality and dumped into something so absurd, the only way to cope was to joke about it.
"Honestly," Lys said, "I was kinda expecting a talking animal companion by now."
Cael tapped the table. "Give it a week. I bet a wise-cracking raccoon will show up and tell us we're chosen."
Lys leaned forward conspiratorially. "What if the raccoon is the demon lord?"
Cael paused, stared at her, then said, "That would… actually explain so much."
They shared another laugh, the books on the table momentarily forgotten.
In a world full of magic, glowing swords, and unknowable threats, two strangers found solace in the absurdity of it all—and the fact that they weren't alone in thinking it was all kind of ridiculous.
"Well," Lys said, stretching a little, "if we're stuck in an isekai, at least we're genre-aware."
"Yeah," Cael agreed, his smile returning. "Might be the only thing that saves us."
Cael flipped a page with the exaggerated care of someone who might find the secret to survival tucked between the lines of a dry history tome. But his eyes weren't on the text anymore.
"You ever notice," he began cautiously, "how betrayal is like… mandatory in these stories?"
Lys blinked, halfway through her own paragraph. "You mean like when the hero gets booted from the party because they don't have a 'cool' power?"
Cael gave her a slow, haunted nod. "Exactly. It always starts the same. The group labels them as weak, or useless, or—worse—untrustworthy because their ability is 'different.' Then they're backstabbed. Or abandoned. And then suddenly it turns out their power was OP all along. The betrayal fuels their righteous revenge arc."
Lys leaned on her elbows, grinning. "You've really read a lot of isekai, huh?"
"I read enough to see the pattern!" Cael hissed, looking around as if the library walls were bugged. "You think I'm paranoid now? Just wait until one of them starts calling me 'dead weight.' I'll disappear before they can finish the sentence."
Lys held back a laugh but failed. "Okay, okay, calm down. Nobody's going to kick you out of the party."
He narrowed his eyes. "You say that, but I was gifted 'The Will to Change.' What does that even mean? I don't have a blade that cuts darkness, or a bow of courage, or a truth-telling dagger. I didn't even get a shiny weapon! What am I supposed to do—transform emotionally at enemies until they cry?"
Lys had to press her hand over her mouth to stifle the snort. "That would be terrifying, honestly."
"I'm serious!" Cael hissed. "What if the others figure out my power is basically self-help nonsense and decide I'm useless? I need a contingency plan. Maybe several. Probably a fake name. And an escape tunnel."
"Cael."
He stopped mid-spiral and looked at her.
"You're spiraling."
"…That's because the pattern says I have to."
Lys reached across the table and tapped his forehead lightly with her finger. "Well, this isn't a manga. And I'm not kicking you out of the party, okay?"
Cael blinked. "Even if my power is existential flavor text?"
"Especially then," she said with a grin. "Everyone else got weapons. You got a concept. That's gotta mean something."
"…Unless it means nothing, and I'm just the narrative decoy."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then be the best decoy in Overmorrowland."
He stared at her, then finally gave a reluctant snort. "You're weirdly good at calming people down."
"Comes with the territory," Lys said, stretching her arms. "Also, you're too paranoid to betray. I trust you more than I trust the loud spear guy."
"Thorne?"
"He'd sell us all for a trophy and a limited-edition skin."
Cael nodded solemnly. "Fair."
The books between them rustled in the quiet, but the atmosphere was lighter now—two unlikely allies, quietly reading their way through fate, while trying not to get metaphorically stabbed in the back by destiny itself.