Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 51:Wake up to reality

"Firstly, I have no interest in talking to you," I snap, my voice laced with frustration. "And secondly, stay away from me!"

My mind races. Why has he forgotten everything? Is he pretending, or is this some kind of déjà vu? His blank stare is unsettling. If he genuinely doesn't remember, then I need to find a way to jog his memory.

I march back toward him, determined and angry. His smirk only fuels my frustration, as if he's silently mocking me with the look of "See you come crawling back after all your pointless chatter."

Before he can utter another word, I seize the moment. I cup my hands around his sharp, angular jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze. My fingers dig into his skin as I grip his face firmly.

Nathan starts to speak, his mouth opening with a bewildered "What is—" but I cut him off sharply.

"Shut up," I say, my voice cutting through his confusion like a knife. I grip his jaw tighter, forcing him to focus entirely on me. "Look into my eyes, Nathan. Trust me for once. Listen to me carefully."

His eyes widen, caught between defiance and a flicker of recognition. The world around us seems to shrink, narrowing to just the space between us. My gaze holds his.

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Nathan, listen to me," I say firmly. "You've skipped the 6th level and jumped straight to the 7th. We've been through challenges every day since Monday, all tied to the Sierra's Stone."

He starts to speak, but I cut him off. "This isn't just a game anymore. We've faced real dangers, and you've forgotten everything. I need you to remember—what we've done, what's at stake. We're not just here to play; we're here to survive. Can you focus on that?"

I release his jaw, hoping my words sink in and he starts to understand what's really happening.

I lean in closer, locking eyes with him. "I hope you get it—wake up, Nathan. It's me, Alyssa. This isn't you! Come back to reality," I plead, my voice steady but urgent.

For a moment, it feels like time stops. His gaze softens, and it's as if he's searching for something in my eyes. Then, suddenly, he stumbles back, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm.

"Where am I?" he asks, a worried look taking over his face.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank God, you're back," I say, relief washing over me.

"I found the clue," he says, still disoriented, "but how did I get here?"

"Okay, I'll make it short. It's Friday today, and we've gathered here to play Friday's game. Thursday just... skipped itself," I explain, trying to keep it simple.

Nathan furrows his brow. "No, Thursday wasn't skipped. I was in the escape room, found the clue, but... it's gone now. How did I end up here? And how are you here?" His confusion is growing.

I take a deep breath, trying to make sense of it all. "I don't know, Nathan. One minute I was running, and the next, I'm here. None of this makes any sense."

"Wait, how did you jump from that game? Why do all the unfair things always happen to you?" I ask, my eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Are you sure your father has no hand in this?"

Nathan's expression hardens. "My father might be an elite, but he has no hand in the Sierra's Stone process. It's all very professional and confidential. And you think things are unfair for me? What about you? How did you skip Thursday while I was still playing?"

His words make me pause. "I... I don't know," I admit. "One minute, I was heading to the dorm, and the next, I was here. It's like the game is playing us, not the other way around."

"I think it's not me; it's you," Nathan says, his voice tinged with realization. "You're the one bringing me back. Every time I've opened my eyes after skipping a level, it's always been you in front of me."

His words hit me like a punch, and I can't shake the feeling there's more to this than I understand.

"Tell me how you got here," he demands.

"Well, after the Marco Polo game, I was racing back to the dorm, my heart pounding with fear. Out of nowhere, I was transported here," I explain, still disoriented.

"What were you fleeing from?" Nathan asks, his eyes widening in concern.

"A shadowy figure—a creepy man with a hood. He was following me so closely, it felt like I could almost feel his breath on my neck," I say, the chilling memory making my voice tremble.