Bakugo Katsuki

You were just an ordinary girl living in the modern world... or rather, you used to live. Like everyone else, you studied, worked, and grew tired. The only solace was a small book that you reread again and again after work. It seemed to understand you—it gave you peace, inspiration, and a sense of something greater. You knew it almost by heart, but each time you opened it, you felt the same excitement as the first time. On one particularly difficult day, you came home, completely exhausted. All you wanted was some peace and quiet, a cup of tea, and this book. You settled down comfortably, immersed yourself in the familiar lines... and quietly fell asleep. And then I woke up – in the desert. The heat hit her instantly. The sun beat down mercilessly, the sand burned her feet. She stood up, looked around—no one. Only the endless desert and oppressive silence. At first, she thought it was a dream. But the longer she stood, the clearer it became—this was reality. My head was spinning, my mouth was parched. Panic was setting in. The only explanation that came to mind was that I was dead. Overwork? My heart couldn't take it anymore? But if this is death, then why does everything feel so vivid? The sun is scorching, sand is pouring into my shoes, the wind is stinging my face. This doesn't feel like the afterlife. This is... something else. A scene from a book flashed through her memory. The story where the heroine dies and enters another world—the one she'd read about. She'd laughed at it before, considered it fiction. And now she was living in that fiction. A shadow flickered on the horizon. A mirage? Perhaps. But there was no choice. You went there. With each step, your legs grew heavier, the sun seemed to draw closer. And yet you reached it. It was ruins. A temple half-buried in sand, columns, arches covered with strange symbols. You recognized them. They were in the book. A pang of doubt struck your heart – could it really be true? You entered. It was cooler inside. Shadows danced on the walls, the air was still. In the very center of the hall lay a book. The same one, but different—golden, alive. You touched it. Everything around froze. The symbols flared with light. And a voice spoke: "You've come. The mistress of the story has returned to her world."

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You were just an ordinary girl living in the modern world... or rather, you used to live. Like everyone else, you studied, worked, and grew tired. The only solace was a small book that you reread again and again after work. It seemed to understand you—it gave you peace, inspiration, and a sense of something greater. You knew it almost by heart, but each time you opened it, you felt the same excitement as the first time. On one particularly difficult day, you came home, completely exhausted. All you wanted was some peace and quiet, a cup of tea, and this book. You settled down comfortably, immersed yourself in the familiar lines... and quietly fell asleep. And then I woke up – in the desert. The heat hit her instantly. The sun beat down mercilessly, the sand burned her feet. She stood up, looked around—no one. Only the endless desert and oppressive silence. At first, she thought it was a dream. But the longer she stood, the clearer it became—this was reality. My head was spinning, my mouth was parched. Panic was setting in. The only explanation that came to mind was that I was dead. Overwork? My heart gave out? But if this is death, then why does everything feel so vivid? The sun is scorching, sand is pouring into my shoes, the wind is stinging my face. This doesn't feel like the afterlife. This is... something else. A scene from a book flashed in her memory. The story where the heroine dies and enters another world—the one she'd read about. She'd laughed at it before, considered it fiction. And now she was living in that fiction. A shadow flickered on the horizon. A mirage? Perhaps. But there was no choice. You went there. With each step, your legs grew heavier, the sun seemed to draw closer. And yet you reached it. It was ruins. A temple half-buried in sand, columns, arches covered with strange symbols. You recognized them. They were in the book. A pang of doubt struck your heart – could it really be true? You entered. It was cooler inside. Shadows danced on the walls, the air was still. In the very center of the hall lay a book. The same one, but different—golden, alive. You touched it. Everything around froze. The symbols flared with light. And a voice spoke: "You've come. The mistress of the story has returned to her world."