The Missing Enchantress (English Version)

Chapter 1: The Manuscript That Chased Me Across Dimensions

The scent of premium floor wax mixed with expensive perfumes was enough to give anyone a headache, but for a scholarship student like Keira, it was just the daily aroma of survival.

She adjusted the straps of her backpack, smoothing down the pleated skirt of a uniform she had barely managed to afford. Horizon Academy wasn't built for people who counted their pennies; it was a playground for the empire-builders of tomorrow. Keira didn’t have a network, a trust fund, or influential parents.

In fact, she had exactly one friend.

BANG!

"Keira! Good morning!"

Before she could even register the high-pitched battle cry, a human missile collided with her chest. The sheer velocity of the impact sent them both sprawling backward. Keira’s spine met the polished marble floor with a dull, echoing thud.

"Aw..." she groaned, staring up at the ceiling.

Sprawled comfortably on top of her was Leslie, her twin pigtails bouncing as she offered a shameless, two-fingered peace sign. "Heheh! Sorry! I just miss you so much, Keira!"

Keira sighed, the breath rushing out of her in a mix of fondness and exasperation. This girl possessed enough energy to power a small metropolis.

"Missed me? Les, we literally saw each other two weeks ago before the break."

"And two weeks is an eternity!" Leslie pouted, her lower lip trembling with dramatic flair. "What, you didn't miss me? Wow. Cold. I’m wounded."

"Of course I missed you," Keira said, gently shoving her friend off so they could finally stand. "Who else is going to shatter the peace and quiet of my mundane life?"

"So, I’m annoying?"

"Maybe a little?"

"Perfect!" Leslie beamed, dusting off her skirt. "That means I’m doing my job. Someone has to keep you from turning into a complete hermit."

They scrambled to their seats just as the heavy wooden doors of the classroom creaked open. Keira slipped into the absolute back row—her sanctuary—while Leslie sat directly in front of her.

"So, how was the long weekend?" Leslie whispered, pivoting in her seat. "Don't tell me. Let me guess. Working?"

"You know the drill, Les," Keira murmured back, pulling out her notebook.

Leslie let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, but before she could scold Keira about 'living a little,' the professor cleared his throat, and the lecture began.

Keira turned out the murmurs of the wealthy heirs around them. Leslie was the only loud thing she permitted in her quiet, meticulously structured universe. She liked her predictable life.

Too bad the universe had other plans.

By late afternoon, the lively chatter of the academy had faded into a serene, stifling silence. Keira’s scholarship requirements dictated that she work as a student assistant, which translated to pulling double shifts in the grand, multi-tiered school library.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Raine," greeted Keira, carrying a stack of heavy encyclopedias.

The head librarian looked up from her desk, her reading glasses slipping down her nose. "Good afternoon, Keira. How was your day?"

"The usual," Keira replied with a polite smile.

Ms. Raine smiled warmly. Over the months, they had developed a comfortable routine. The librarian trusted Keira enough to leave early, handing over the heavy brass keys, so the teenager could lock up after finishing her rounds.

Keira walked down the dim, labyrinthine aisles, sliding stray novels back into their respective slots. The library smelled of old parchment and dust—a scent she usually found comforting. She picked up the very last book left on a reading table, stepped toward the fiction section, and slid it into place.

She turned to leave.

Then, her gaze caught on something.

Keira's footsteps froze. A sudden, inexplicable chill prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Slowly, mechanically, she turned her head back toward the shelf she had just passed.

“No. It’s impossible.”

Resting snugly between two leather-bound histories was a book with an identical, deep-crimson cover embossed with intricate, silver vines. Keira stepped forward, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her trembling fingers reached out and pulled it from the shelf.

The title stared back at her, mocking her sanity.

Her breath hitched. “She had thrown this book into the river three days ago.”

Keira clearly remembered the splash. She remembered watching the dark water swallow it whole because the damn thing had been giving her nightmares. Her mother had given it to her before she passed, explicitly stating it was a one-of-a-kind, self-made manuscript gifted by an old friend. It wasn't a commercial print. There were no duplicates.

"Why... why is it here?" Keira whispered, her voice cracking in the empty room. "Did someone fish it out?"

A wave of pure, unadulterated dread washed over her. The crimson leather felt unnervingly warm against her palm—almost like skin.

THUMP.

Keira dropped the book as if it had burned her. It hit the carpeted floor with a heavy, dead sound. Terrified, she didn't bother picking it up. She sprinted out of the aisle, grabbed her backpack from the front desk, rushed out of the library, and locked the doors with shaking hands.

“I'm hallucinating,” she told herself frantically. “I’m just sleep-deprived from working too many shifts.”

Keira practically flew across the campus and didn't stop running until she burst through the door of her small apartment. It was a modest place, left to her by her late parents through a sudden, unexpected legal notice. She collapsed onto her bed, her chest heaving as she stared at the ceiling.

"Dammit," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Get a grip, Keira. It was just a coincidence. A similar cover."

Deciding a hot shower would wash away the lingering paranoia, she grabbed a change of clothes. The apartment was fully furnished and comfortable, the one stroke of absolute luck in her otherwise difficult life.

Fifteen minutes later, wrapped in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, Keira felt somewhat human again. She pulled her backpack over to the low table, unzipping it to fish out her calculus notebook.

Her hand wrapped around something thick, rigid, and bound in leather.

Keira's heart stopped.

She pulled her hand back as if a snake had bitten her, scrambling backward until her back hit the wall.

There, sitting right on top of her neat school binders, was the crimson manuscript.

"Oh, come on!" Keira shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls. "Mom! Please! Are you mad at me for throwing it away?! I’m sorry! Stop scaring me!"

The apartment remained dead silent. The book sat innocently in the bag, looking smaller now, more like a compact pocketbook than a heavy tome.

Swallowing the lump of terror in her throat, Keira crept forward on her hands and knees. She reached out, snatched the book, and flipped open the first page. She knew for a fact the first page was supposed to be completely blank.

But as she watched, ink began to bleed through the parchment from thin air, swirling and forming elegant, cursive letters right before her eyes.

“What the—”

She dropped it again. "Nope! Absolutely not!" Keira screamed, looking around for a weapon. "Dad! Mom! Anyone?!"

The book didn't care about her existential crisis. It slowly lifted off the floor, defying gravity, its pages fluttering wildly as a faint, ethereal golden light began to emanate from its core. It hovered at eye level, settling firmly on the first page.

Keira's body froze, completely paralyzed by a sudden, invisible pressure. She couldn't run. She couldn't even blink. Her eyes, entirely against her will, locked onto the newly formed text.

The time has come for your journey. There is no turning back now. The door shall open before you.

"Wait, what door—?"

Before she could finish the thought, the book erupted in a blinding, catastrophic flash of white light. It felt as though the entire world had been bleached out.

The sheer intensity of it forced Keira's eyes shut, and a sensation of weightlessness took over, spinning her through a void where time didn't seem to exist.

“Inhale. Exhale.”

The smell of premium floor wax was gone. In its place was the crisp, overwhelming scent of pine, damp earth, and blooming roses.

Keira opened her eyes, her jaw dropping so fast she thought it might detach from her face.

"What the actual hell...?"

She was standing on a picturesque, arched stone bridge over a crystal-clear river. The modern apartment, her backpack, her calculus homework—all of it had vanished.

"Don't panic. Keira, do not panic. Panic kills. Inhale... exhale..."

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing pulse, and turned around in a slow circle. Ahead of her was a dense, ancient-looking forest. But when she looked past the tree line, far out into the horizon, her eyes caught a massive, sweeping silhouette.

Spiring white towers, golden banners catching the sunlight, and defensive stone ramparts.

"A castle?" Keira muttered, squinting. "A literal, medieval castle? Where am I, a Renaissance fair?"

Driven by a mix of survival instinct and sheer desperation, she followed the cobblestone path leading away from the bridge. If there was a castle, there had to be people. Fortunately, the walk wasn't long. Within twenty minutes, the path opened up into a sprawling, bustling town square.

It looked like a scene straight out of a big-budget historical movie. The streets were teeming with people dressed in tunics, corsets, and flowing robes. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the scent of roasting meats and sweet pastries.

"Buy a trinket, young lady! It would look beautiful on you," a jovial merchant called out, gesturing to a display of glittering silver jewelry.

Keira offered a weak, bewildered smile and shook her head, moving along. The town seemed to be in the middle of a massive celebration. Banners floated in the streets, and a grand parade was moving along the main thoroughfare. People were riding on elaborate, horse-drawn floats, while performers threw fire and executed flawless acrobatics.

But then, one of the performers raised a hand. A glowing, intricate geometric circle of blue light materialized in front of his palm, shooting a harmless spray of sparkling stars into the sky.

"A magic circle? Real magic?"

Keira's breath hitched. Her mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible clues.

"Where am I? How did I get here?"

"My dear? Are you lost?"

Keira startled, turning to see an elderly woman wrapped in a woolen shawl looking at her with genuine concern.

"Ah... yes," Keira stammered. "I think I am very, very lost."

The old woman scanned her from head to toe, her eyebrows knitting together. "Where on earth did you come from dressed like that?"

Keira followed the woman's gaze down to her own body. Her jaw dropped for the second time that day.

Her oversized hoodie and sweatpants were gone. Instead, she was wearing a high-waisted, knee-length dress of deep emerald silk. The sleeves were uniquely styled—detached from the shoulders, wrapping around her upper arms and forearms like an off-shoulder gown, revealing bare skin at her collarbone. On her feet were sturdy, knee-high leather boots.

She reached up in a panic. Her short, practical hair now cascaded all the way down to her waist in soft, silken waves.

"Who changed my clothes?! Who did my hair?!" Keira thought wildly.

She appreciated the aesthetic upgrade, but a little warning would have been nice."

"Dear? Are you quite alright?" the woman asked, stepping closer.

"I... I'm fine," Keira lied, her voice shaking. "May I ask... what is the name of this kingdom?"

"Why, you're in the capital of Ornothopia, child."

"Ornothopia."

The word struck Keira's brain like a bolt of lightning.

"Ornothopia. The setting of the tragic romance fantasy manuscript her mother had left behind. The one where the villainous Duke executes the entire populace in the final chapter."

Keira's vision blurred. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, and her hands began to tremble violently.

"Dear Lord, you're white as a sheet!" the woman gasped, reaching out to catch her arm. "What is happening to you?"

"No. No, no, no! This is a dream. A vivid, incredibly detailed, terrifyingly lucid dream! I am inside that cursed book!"

The bustling sounds of the festival began to fade into a muffled buzz. The vibrant colors of the market square bled into pitch black. Keira's knees buckled, the cobblestone ground rushing up to meet her.

"Someone help! She’s fainting!"

"Miss?! Miss, what is your name?"

"What is the commotion here?" a deep, resonant voice cut through the panic, dripping with an innate, chilling authority.

"Your Grace! This young woman just collapsed! She seems to be a stranger..."

Through the heavy, suffocating darkness pulling her under, a final, sharp whisper echoed in Keira's mind. It was a voice that sounded entirely too close, laced with an emotion she couldn't decipher.

"Keira...?"

"Wait. Who is that? How do they know my name?"

Before she could grasp the answer, consciousness slipped away entirely, leaving her with one final, furious thought: "To hell with this genre. I want to go home."