I sat cross-legged on the bed, the soft fabric of the sheets clinging awkwardly to my legs as I tried—again and again—to recreate the strange phenomenon from earlier.
"Open."
Nothing.
"Release."
Still nothing.
"Retrieve, Inventory, Storage, Gate, Summon, Return—"
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
I tried every anime-sounding command I could think of. At one point I whispered "Expelliarmus" just in case the universe was feeling ironic.
No dice.
After several minutes of talking to the air like a desperate LARPer, I flopped back against the mattress with a sigh. Defeated.
But giving up wasn't an option. Not in this world. Not in his body.
I forced myself to think back. To the exact moment the portal had appeared with the pen.
The feeling of it.
What had I done? What had I wanted?
I pictured the pen clearly in my mind—the size, the weight, the dull plastic casing. I remembered how badly I wanted to get it back. The desire was almost instinctive.
And then, without speaking a word—
The air in front of me shivered.
A ripple. Just like before.
But this time, I noticed the way the air fractured first—like cracked glass spreading across a pane—before folding inward, warping reality like a drop of water hitting still surface.
Swash.
Something shot out of it. Fast.
Crack—!
A sharp sting exploded across my left cheek.
"Gah—!"
I clutched my face. My fingertips came away warm, slick. Blood.
Turning my head, I saw it.
The pen.
It was embedded in the metallic frame of the bed, halfway buried like a thrown dart. The color-selector wheel at the end still spun lazily, one of the knobs—the blue one—now stained with fresh crimson.
My blood.
What the actual hell?
Did it... retain its momentum?
No—build momentum?
Had it been falling inside the void? Accelerating infinitely in freefall, like a bullet in a gravityless loop, until it was spat out again like a railgun round?
I stared at the rippling air where the portal had vanished, now calm again. My cheek throbbed. The moonlight spilled across the bed, pale and quiet, casting ghostly silver across the room.
My heartbeat was racing—but my mind was sharper than it had been in hours.
This wasn't just some aesthetic magic trick.
Whatever I had—this ability—it could be deadly.
Or useful. Or both.
The moon had risen.
And so did my hopes of surviving this twisted world.