Evergreen University was located in the heart of Evergreen City. It shared its name with the city and had been an integral part of its history since its founding four hundred years ago.
Originally a small college with only a handful of departments, it had grown into a colossal institution, easily ranking among the top three universities in the world. Over the centuries, the university expanded in every direction, yet its roots remained deeply entwined with the ancient library around which it was initially built.
The library, with its stone walls weathered by time and the weight of knowledge, still stood at the center of the sprawling campus, a silent witness to the evolution of one of the world's most prestigious academic institutions.
Ali couldn't help but feel a swell of pride when he walked through the university's gates. He had passed the hellish entrance criteria for this elite institution, and despite everything he had been through—like that one time when he had a sword in his chest—he was determined not to let anything bring him down.
After asking for directions a few times, he was led to a massive building. The entire structure served as the administration office, an imposing sight with its tall columns and grand, arched windows that gave it the air of a government building or a courthouse.
The sheer size of it made Ali feel small for a moment, a reminder of the bureaucratic redtapist nonsense he was about to navigate.
He needed to submit his acceptance letter, handle a bit more paperwork, and set up his student account, among other formalities. Stepping inside, he was greeted by a high ceiling with intricate designs that spoke of the building's long history. The floor was a polished marble, echoing the footsteps of countless students who had walked these halls before him.
After speaking to the receptionist, he took the elevator to the third floor, where he was further instructed to wait until his name was called. There were two other students waiting there with him, but after five minutes, he was the only one left.
He regretted not having tried to make conversation with the others.
'They were probably freshmen in the same department or faculty,' he thought, chiding himself. Still lost in his thoughts, he almost missed it when his name was called, but something was off.
"Alicarde Asad," the voice announced.
He didn't answer for a moment, unsure of what to do.
'That can't be right,' he thought, but then he realized he was the only one left in the waiting area.
'It has to be me.... right' Carrisa had been calling him Alicarde lately, so he figured there must have been some mix-up. Determined to clear the misunderstanding, he walked into the office.
The room was well-furnished, with dark wood furniture and plush chairs that made it feel more like the office of a high-ranking executive than a university administrator. The lady behind the desk greeted him with a polite nod as he handed over the envelope containing his documents.
As she reviewed the paperwork, Ali noticed something that made his heart skip a beat—all the documents were assigned to the name Alicarde Asad.
The birth certificate, the acceptance letter, even his old school records—everything bore the name Alicarde instead of Ali. The documents weren't new; he recognized the smudges and wear on his birth certificate.
'What the hell?' he thought, his mind racing. 'This has to be Carrisa. She's the only one who calls me Alicarde. But how did she manage this?'
His legs froze up for a moment, but after a deep breath, he found his voice.
"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but I think there's been a mistake. My name is Ali Asad, not Alicarde Asad."
The lady looked up from her computer and gave him a reassuring smile. "Mr. Asad, I assure you there is no mistake. The name on all your documents, including the ones you just gave me, is indeed Alicarde Asad. So I don't see where the issue is."
He stared at her, his mind racing. She handed him back the envelope, and he opened it to examine the documents more closely. To his shock, every single document listed his name as Alicarde Asad. The birth certificate, the acceptance letter, every school certificate from elementary to high school—it was all there, but with the wrong name.
'How is this possible?' he thought, his heart pounding.
'Carrisa must have done something—some kind of trick or magic to change my name. But why?'
Controlling his growing anger, he thanked the lady and left the office. She stopped him briefly to give further instructions on what he needed to do next. For the next three hours, he went through the motions, completing one task after another—submitting forms, attending orientation sessions, setting up his student account—until he was finally done.
Exhausted, he looked over the list of courses he could take, both compulsory and elective. His mind was drained, not physically, but mentally.
'Guess that she-devil Carrisa was right; my body really isn't human anymore,' he thought. And thinking of Carrisa, he realized that most of his anger had faded during the three hours he had spent running around.
He sat down on a bench and sighed, not noticing the girl sitting beside him until he had already sat down.
"Hello," she said gently, waving her hand a bit.
"Are you new here too?" she asked.
"Too?" he inquired, picking up on her phrasing.
"I'm Anne Amicus, a freshman in the Department of Psychology. Nice to meet you," she introduced herself.
"Oh, hi Anne. It's nice to meet you. I'm Alicarde Asad, also from the same department," he answered, not even realizing he had referred to himself as Alicarde.
"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Alicarde Asad," she said, smiling as she repeated the name.
Ali quickly became aware of his own words. "Oh, sorry. Um… you can call me Ali. No, please call me Ali," he stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed.
The girl adjusted her glasses and pushed her short blonde hair behind her ear. She was average-looking, with a petite build that suggested she was a bit shorter than him. She couldn't compete with Carrisa in terms of looks, but Ali found her to have her own unique kind of charm.
"So, are you new to the city?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
"Yeah, is it that obvious?" Anne replied.
"No, not really. I mean, I'm new here too, so I just took a guess," he said with a shrug.
"So, you're new too, huh? Guess we're in this together then," Anne smirked.
"Guess we are," he laughed.
They ended up having a long conversation, getting to know each other better. They laughed and joked, quickly becoming friends. It was easy to connect, given that they were both new to the city and the college. Before parting ways, they exchanged contact information to stay in touch.
As Ali left, agreeing to call or text if anything came up, he felt a bit lighter. But that relief was short-lived. He called a car through his ridesharing app and headed straight to confront Carrisa. He had no idea what kind of magic or voodoo she had used to change his name, but she had better undo it.
When the car stopped on the main road, he opted to walk the rest of the way. He didn't want to involve anyone else in whatever mess this was.
After a while, he reached the gates of the mansion. They swung open as if to welcome him back, but he wasn't in the mood to care. Keeping his temper in check, he stormed into the mansion, heading straight for Carrisa.
He eventually found her on the fourth floor.
"Welcome back home," she greeted him calmly.
"What the hell, Carrisa? What the actual hell? Why did you change my name on my official documents?" he demanded, his voice hard.
"I didn't," she replied steadily.
"You're the only person who calls me Alicarde. Who else could it be?" he asked, trying to stay calm.
"I didn't change your name on your documents. I changed your name on a more fundamental level," she said, rising from her chair.
"That day, the person known as Ali Asad died. He was dead in every sense of the word—the Grim Reaper had already claimed you. But I brought you back. However, the one I brought back was not Ali Asad; the one I brought back was Alicarde Asad," she explained, her tone calm.
"So, what you're saying is I'm a different person?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"No, you are the same person. I simply rewrote your name. This must have affected how the world perceives your existence, leading to this outcome. You could think of your return as a kind of rebirth, which is why the influence of your new name is so powerful," she clarified.
"So, what, I'm supposed to just accept this?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Yes, you are. Besides, your name would have changed eventually as you grew more powerful and earned titles to add to your true name," she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" he asked coldly.
Carrisa sighed, showing the first signs of weariness. "So, what do you want, Ali?" she asked, her voice aloof but tinged with exasperation.
"Change it back!" he snapped.
"I cannot. What is done cannot be undone," she replied, her tone unyielding.
Glaring at her menacingly, his eyes began to glow with a violet hue as he locked gazes with her. But Carrisa remained unfazed, her expression as aloof as ever.
As Ali's anger simmered, the presence of a maid emerged from behind him. She moved with the quiet grace typical of her station, her voice calm as she spoke.
"I assure you, my mistress did not intend to change your name. Rather, by bringing you back, she was put in a situation where she had no choice but to give you a new name, as the individual known as Ali Asad had already died. Therefore, the new name was necessary. My mistress also took care to give you a name that closely resembled your original mortal name," she explained with a measured tone, almost mechanical in its precision.
Ali turned to look at the maid, her composed demeanor contrasting sharply with his own turmoil. Then his gaze shifted back to Carrisa, who still showed no sign of emotion. Her expression remained as unreadable as ever. Despite his frustration, he found himself calming down a bit.
The maid's explanation, while clinical, did make some sense—at least as much as anything in his current situation could. He didn't fully understand the mystical or supernatural forces at play, but he had no choice but to accept her words for now. She also assured him that while his documents might have been affected, he could still go by the name Ali, as a shortened version of Alicarde.
She further clarified that his family wouldn't notice the difference in his name on the documents; to them, and to any other mundane person, it would be as if nothing had changed.
Reluctantly, Ali let go of his anger. There was something instinctual, a deep-seated feeling, that kept him from directing his full wrath at Carrisa. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't maintain his fury towards her. And given his efforts to keep a cool head in the face of everything he had been through, he found himself slowly resigning to the situation.
'Maybe this is just part of my new reality,' he thought, feeling the weight of the situation begin to settle on his shoulders. Ali decided, at least for now, to put the matter to rest and contemplate what his new reality would look like moving forward.