Page-Turner

Once upon a time, a bright (and, let's face it, exceptional) guy named Danny was preparing for his first day at the Confluence Institute in Miami. Or at least, he was trying to, until—

"Goddamn it, Mandy. This book is a total dumpster fire."

I scowled, watching from the backseat of my own mind as Callisto, this loudmouth from another world who had somehow hijacked my body, went through my morning routine like he owned it.

"Danny, you realize I can hear you, right?" Callisto muttered as he adjusted my collar in the mirror.

"Good," I shot back, annoyed. "I was hoping you could, Cal."

Here's the situation: Callisto isn't from around here. He's from Earth, the original one. My world, Homeworld, is actually a story his sister wrote called Page-Turner. She creates these stories as therapy, working through her emotions in the worlds she builds. And she told Callisto that all her old stories, every single one, are buried somewhere in Page-Turner. He only managed to find one of them so far—and of course, it is an S-Rank level danger.

Now Callisto is here, treating this world like his personal quest. He figures that if he can somehow beat that S-Rank story, it might lead him to the others. But he can't even touch S-Rank until he becomes an S-Rank Reader, which means slogging through regular dungeons until he's strong enough. And if he fails to end a story in a way that feels right to the author, that world could turn into a full-blown gate and start merging with ours.

Not that he thinks much of my world anyway. "A pathetic dungeon-lit power fantasy for desperate losers," he called it.

"Just because my sister wrote it as therapy doesn't mean it isn't garbage," he muttered, picking up on my thoughts as usual. "And believe me, I'm not thrilled to be stuck in your short, awkward body."

I rolled my eyes. "You realize you're just body-shaming yourself, right?"

"Listen, just because I'm in your body doesn't make me short. Back on Earth, I was six-five. D-1 basketball player, Danny."

This guy was unreal.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. "Fine. Just… don't screw up my first day, alright?"

He scoffed, almost sounding sincere for once. "Relax. I need to get through this, too. I've got to rank up to S-level Reader, and I'm not about to blow this."

As we approached the entrance to the Confluence Institute, Callisto paused, taking in the massive brick-covered campus with a raised eyebrow. The place looked more like a college than a high school, with towering brick buildings, wide pathways, and clusters of students filling the grounds. For me, it was everything I had dreamed about. For him, though, it was probably just another "stage set" in his sister's story. A detail. A bit of fiction.

"Alright," he muttered, letting out a low whistle, "I'll give you this, it's big."

I couldn't help feeling a little satisfaction seeing him at least mildly impressed, but then his gaze shifted, and I watched him freeze, his eyes locked on a tall, silver-haired student nearby. With pointed ears, pale skin, and a graceful walk, it was unmistakably an elf.

"Is that…?" he began, brow raised.

"An elf?" I finished, feeling a small flash of amusement at catching him off guard. "Yeah. When worlds get combined, other races sometimes get pulled in too. Some of them even leave their original regions and come to Homeworld, our Earth."

He nodded slowly, his gaze following the elf as they walked past. "Right. Just like people popping into another dimension and deciding to settle down. Makes total sense."

"Honestly, it does," I replied, a little defensively. "At least to us."

He snorted. "Sure, whatever. 'Welcome to Homeworld,' where elves walk around high school campuses, dungeons are down the street, and S-Rank death traps wait for the unwary. Just your average day." His voice was dripping with sarcasm, though I could tell he was actually taking in everything. There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he scanned the campus, even if he wouldn't admit it.

As we continued walking, Cal's attention shifted again, this time to a loud commotion up ahead. A towering ogre was squaring off against a gang of smaller figures—goblins, with their green skin and wiry builds, snarling as they squared up to each other. A few other students watched on the sidelines, either too amused or too intimidated to interfere.

"Alright, Danny, what do you think, big guy or the goblin crew? Wanna place a bet?" he asked, smirking.

I sighed, already exasperated. "Cal, those are students."

"Yeah, sure. Students who look like they just crawled out of a fantasy novel. C'mon, tell me you're not the least bit curious."

"That's pretty racist," I muttered, cringing inside. I could already see how this was going to play out if he didn't change his tone.

He rolled his eyes. "Racist? They're literally goblins and an ogre! I know you think this is normal, but back on Earth, they'd be fighting over a treasure chest, not a math quiz."

I was about to snap back when I noticed the ogre giving Callisto a long, hard look. He looked him up and down, his face twisting into a smirk. "What are you staring at, short little boy?" the ogre sneered.

Callisto chuckled, clearly unfazed. "Oh, he did not just call me short." He cracked my knuckles, his eyes lighting up with that dangerous glint. I could feel where this was headed and almost couldn't stop myself from grinning in anticipation.

"Cal, let it go," I warned, holding back laughter. "He's eight feet tall and pure muscle. He's calling you short because he's talking to me, obviously."

But Cal wasn't listening. "No one disrespects Callisto. Madre didn't raise no little bitch."

And before I could stop him, he swung my fist right at the ogre's midsection. It connected with a solid thud—and, in the blink of an eye, we were both lifted off our feet and hurled across the plaza like a sack of potatoes.

I laughed, savoring every moment of his pain. "Called it! Not so fun getting tossed around, huh?"

"Shut up," he groaned, clutching his ribs.

"Anyway," I snickered, "he was calling me short."

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Still had it coming."

Just then, campus security showed up, hauling Cal up and dragging him off. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the school infirmary, staring up at the bright lights with a groan, gripping his head.

I laughed again, not hiding the joy in my voice. "Solid concussion. Told you that'd happen, but hey, if pain's the only way for you to learn, go right ahead."

"Dios mío, shut up," he mumbled, slumping back onto the bed before passing out again.

As everything faded to black, I sighed. "I guess that's that for now. Maybe he'll pick a fight with a minotaur next."

Then a horrifying thought hit me: everyone else was going to think I was the one picking fights and throwing around racial slurs because of Cal. My reputation was already tanking, and it wasn't even lunch.

"Fuc—"