The clothes fit. Barely.
Conor tugged at the stiff collar of the tunic, its coarse fabric scratching his neck. The trousers were snug in all the wrong places, and the boots felt like they were designed by someone who hated feet.
"Fashionable discomfort must be a universal constant," he muttered, adjusting the belt that threatened to slip every time he moved.
The hallway outside his room was dimly lit, the wooden floorboards creaking under his steps. The walls were adorned with faded tapestries depicting battles and beasts, their colors dulled by time.
"Definitely not the Marriott," he quipped, descending the narrow staircase that led to the inn's main floor.
As he reached the bottom, the scent of roasted meat and stale ale assaulted his senses. The common room was bustling with patrons of all shapes and sizes.
Conor's eyes widened as he took in the scene. At one table, a group of elves with pointed ears and flowing robes engaged in animated conversation. Nearby, dwarves with braided beards clinked mugs of frothy ale, their laughter booming. Beastfolk of various kinds—wolf ears, cat tails, even scales—mingled among humans, creating a tapestry of fantasy races.
"It's like every fantasy novel threw up in here," he whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"Dray!"
The shout snapped him back to reality. Behind the counter stood the gruff man from earlier, his arms crossed and a scowl etched on his face.
Conor hesitated, then made his way through the crowd, the floorboards groaning under his boots.
"You're late," the man grumbled. "Lazy as ever."
"Sorry," Conor mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
The man sighed, handing him a plate piled high with food. "Eat up. Big day today. You've been accepted into Rosemarria Academy."
Conor froze, the plate hovering in his hands. "Rosemarria Academy?"
"Yes," the man replied, raising an eyebrow. "Still half-asleep?"
Conor's mind raced. Rosemarria Academy was the central setting of Love & Mayhem, the MMORPG he had played during his hospital stays. A prestigious institution for warriors and mages, it was the hub of the game's storyline.
"This can't be real," he whispered, glancing around the room. The diverse crowd, the medieval decor, the smell of roasted meat—all too vivid to be a dream.
"I'm in the game," he realized, a mix of awe and dread washing over him.
But something was off. He didn't recognize his own reflection earlier, and the name 'Dray' meant nothing to him.
"Who the hell am I?" he muttered, staring at his trembling hands.