Instead, I was torn from sleep by what I can only describe as the sound of a T. rex discovering caffeine. I leapt up, clutching a pillow like a weapon, ready to face whatever eldritch horror had broken through the window.

  Turned out it was just Elvira’s alarm clock.

  Cool as a cucumber, she switched it off and gave a lazy stretch.

  “Morning!” she chirped, as if she hadn’t just nearly caused me a heart attack. “Time to get ready for class. And yes — it’s your first day! Lucky you.”

  I attempted to emerge from under the blanket and immediately spotted my jeans, which had spent the night making a very half-hearted attempt at drying. They looked damp, cold, and deeply unmotivated, but Elvira took pity on me and, with a small sigh, handed over one of her spare uniforms. I stared at it like a drowning woman spotting a floating plank.

  “Wear it if you want,” she said casually. “Those trousers are better left untouched. For everyone’s sake.”

  Bless her dark little heart.

  I accepted the uniform with sincere gratitude — a black mini skirt, black shirt, and a dark purple robe — and shuffled off to the bathroom. After putting on my now-dry lace underwear and Elvira’s clothes (which were annoyingly comfortable), I checked my reflection.

  Pink hair. No makeup. Full necromancer outfit that screamed “newly hired necromancer intern.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Perfect.

  “So you’re off to find Professor Grey?” Elvira asked, watching me wrestle with a sleeve tie that clearly had a personal vendetta against me.

  “Yeah. I assume he kind of… personally enrolled me into Necromancy.”

  “Oof,” Elvira snickered and gave me that look. “You told me yesterday and I still can’t get over it. So — you saw him naked? Thoughts? Impressions?”

  “Not really a sightseeing moment,” I said flatly. “He nearly killed me. Not that I was checking out the view.”

  Elvira laughed like I’d just delivered the punchline of the year.

  “Grey Morne! Honestly, that tracks. You don’t just drop in on a combat necromancer — especially not via portal. He definitely has wards to keep random people out. So really, Malinka, the fact that you survived makes you a bit of a legend. Does he know who you are?”

  “That I fell in from another world? Yeah. I told him everything. He interrogated me, waved some horrifying spell and I instantly felt the urge to confess crimes I haven’t even committed yet. It was terrifying.”

  “Classic Grey… But he’s not actually that bad,” she smirked. “He’s an arch-necromancer, black-tier magic. Absolute elite. His sense of humour is… well, very skeleton-adjacent. But still… If things go well, he might even supervise my dissertation in forensic necromancy in my graduation year!”

  I watched her practically glow and realised that to Elvira, Grey was less a person and more a carefully curated fantasy — part action movie hero, part untouchable academic crush. Admire from afar. Do not approach without protective gear.

  “They’ll probably dump me in first year,” I muttered. “I don’t even know what magic is. I can’t cast a single spell. I’m not even sure I have magic at all.”

  Elvira waved this off like I’d suggested the gravity might be optional.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a portal-jumper. The world literally dragged you here. Of course you’ve got magic. No debate. Check your timetable, see what your first class is, and panic later.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else. Because if I opened my mouth, it would be to say I was absolutely, totally, irreversibly overwhelmed.

  Too many questions. Too many changes. And absolutely no chance to relax.