Three days later, Cale was more than ready to go back to his own body.

The floor was cold against his back where he laid on it in his bedroom. Opened books and scrolls surrounded him and his fingers were stained black by the ink he wrote with. His clothes were crumpled and the entire room had been turned into a mess by the intensity of his research bend. The clock that the maid had delivered and put up on the wall over the door said the time was about eight, but because it was the height of summer and he hadn't kept track of time, he had no idea if that meant eight in the evening or morning. He'd gotten so entrapped by the books and texts that he had completely forgotten to keep any kind of schedule.

Regardless, it had probably been about three days now so the tutor could arrive at any moment. For lack of anything else to do, he supposed he should clean himself up and make himself presentable.

Calling himself a mess was an understatement.

Cale climbed to his feet and brushed his hair out of his face when it covered his eyes. Evidently, the tail had failed again. The brush the maid had given him laid unused on the bed and Cale now swallowed his pride and picked it up. He didn't have the time to doubt himself. He grabbed a piece of his white hair as well and started to slowly drag the brush through it. Thankfully, it seemed the hair wasn't predisposed to tangle and it didn't hurt too bad. It was still uncomfortable and odd though.

Once the mess he called hair was tamed to a decent degree, Cale changed into another pair of clothes, similar enough to the previous pair that he didn't mind wearing them. The last thing he did was pull on the pair of black heeled boots he still wasn't used to walking in.

While making the short trip to the bathroom he had unofficially claimed as his own, he twisted his hair into a tail high on his head and tied it with the ribbon. He had finally gotten good at using a ribbon.

It took a while, but he was pretty sure that he was finally getting used to this body. After all, the human mind was surprisingly adaptable.

And despite what it may occasionally seem like, Cale didn't actually have a death wish.

He was just kind of horrified by the idea of someone else inhabiting his body and playing out his life.

After visiting the bathroom, he went back to his room to try to make sense of the mess that he had created in his frantic searching to prove that this wasn't real by finding flaws in the texts. 

There had been no flaws. 

While he was sure that he was in the world of a novel, there had been no mention of these books and texts in it. Which led credit to that this world was somehow real. The question that made him feel trepidation though was; had the author created the world, or had they only written about it?

If they had only written about it, had they truly told the entire story?

But such thoughts only made his head hurt and his heart full of anxiety. It was better for him to focus on one thing at a time. It made it easier to deal with the entire thing.

Once his room was at a level where he wouldn't be embarrassed when the maid came to clean it, he left to make his way downstairs. Somewhere there should be a dining hall where he could get food. Although he apparently had a maid, or more precisely, a servant, of his own, he had no idea how to summon her and ask for food. She usually just appeared as if by magic when he needed something.

He wondered if there was some kind of magic involved with that as well.

Logically speaking, the dining hall should be on the ground floor. Cale stepped through the hallways carefully, taking gentle steps on the heeled boots. They were both easy and difficult to walk in; the body of Calla had the muscle memory of how to use them, but Cale had never used anything with heels before and so as soon as he thought about what he was walking in, he went from stepping effortlessly, to stumbling over his own feet. It was generally fine as long as he didn't think about it, but trying not to think about something usually made you think of it.

He was sure that he made quite the hilarious picture to anyone that could see him.

He had a death grip on the railing the entire time he was on the stairs. It was both nerve-racking and nightmare-inducing. He just couldn't stop seeing himself falling down them and breaking his neck. Forget about being poisoned by the villain, that would just be a sad way to go.

Finally, he made his way to the ground floor. Now all he had to do was find the dining hall.

Easier said than done.

Cale kept his steps as even as possible in someone else's body and wearing unfamiliar shoes as he walked through the various rooms and corridors. He had missed it before, but this house was like a freaking labyrinth.

It was all twisted turns and winding hallways.

Eventually, he managed to find a servant willing to point in the right direction and after that, it was progressively easier to find his way.

It was still confusing though.

The dining hall, when he entered it, was like something out of an old historical movie. The large table with its many fancy chairs in the middle on top of a rich carpet dominated the room. The large windows along the entirety of one of the walls, from floor to ceiling, let in light and gave it an airy atmosphere. The chandelier from the ceiling with its many candles added a Victorian feel to it all. And the walls covered by a rich red color and old paintings of both portraits and landscapes added authenticity to it.

His eyes were wide open in wonder from trying to take it all in.

This kind of view was something you only found in museums and old castles.

Cale was entranced by it.

He made his way to the chair closest to Calla's mother and sat down.

Calla's mother, Mariana, looked at him and smiled. "The tutor will be here within an hour, dear, so make sure you have finished eating by then. You need to keep your health up and that means eating properly."

"Of course, mother."

Cale followed Calla's mother's lead and started to eat.

* * *

Cale sat still in the chair in the meeting room. The tutor had left a scant few minutes ago and Cale could already feel his mind imploding from all that he was expected to know. Apparently, his feigning of forgetfulness wasn't bought and now he had no choice but to study like a mad man.

School started again at the end of August.

What the hell was he going to do?

The information he was expected to know, the magic that should come effortlessly, all of it was gone. He had none of Calla's memories, nothing to go off of but the contents of a book that he only half-remembered. He was so utterly screwed.

A month and a half was not nearly enough time.

Cale held in a groan and leaned his head back on the chair he was sitting on. At least the chair was comfortable. The tutor, Harald Hawthorne (an old man in his sixties) would be coming by four times a week until school started up again. During that time, Cale needed to take advantage of his knowledge to try to learn enough to get by. It didn't really matter if he actually managed to graduate or not, Calla was already two years behind, but sitting in a classroom and being interrogated on things that he should already know was not on his wish list.

He had the feeling that his ignorance would give him away in a heartbeat.

As such, all that was left for him to do was study until his eyes crossed.

His eyes drifted shut and he let his thoughts drift with them. This was never something he could have actually imagined happening to him in a million years. He was in somebody else's body, ok that he could... learn to deal with. But the magic, the spirits, the unknown forces governing this world? That was something else entirely. 

He'd grown up wishing that magic existed, he was pretty sure everyone had at some point, but he also knew it didn't and he couldn't easily lose that line of thinking. He kept forgetting that this body was used to it, had probably grown up learning about it and should know all about it. He should know how to use it, should know how to twist it to his will and create a miracle.

But he didn't and he didn't think he ever would.

The body was one thing, the human mind was adaptable enough that he would eventually grow to accept it, but the magic? The mysterious energy that was probably responsible for dropping him in this world? That was so far out there that he even kept forgetting to practice it.

And even if he did, what use did it have?

Calla hadn't died from a fierce battle, but poisoning and no matter how powerful he was, how much control of his ice magic that he had, it wouldn't change it. Magic hadn't saved him, so what use was it?

Why should Cale even bother to learn it?

His destiny was to die, though he hated it and would do absolutely everything he could to escape it, it was still something that he kept thinking about. This body would be dead within a year if things went according to the script.

Cale would be dead within a year if things went according to the book and he hadn't had a chance to test if he could affect the plot. If he could change anything—or if he was doomed to die no matter what he did.

What if he couldn't change anything at all? What then? Try to make the best of the rest of his life and fervently hope that he went back to his real body when Calla died?

He didn't want to live while waiting for death.

Cale stood up from the chair and let his eyes take in the room. It was nicely decorated, with bookshelves lining the walls and he itched to open the books and learn more, but he needed to concentrate on books on the subjects he learned in school. Reading for the sake of reading could be done later.

Though he wasn't sure he would even have a later.

He left the room behind him and went to search for something—anything—else to do. He needed to get his mind off of everything for just a few hours, he needed to relax and rest. The constant worry that he would be revealed to be an imposter, that he would die, wasn't good for him. He needed to get his mind off of it all.

He went to the gardens.

Even now, several days after he first woke up in this body, they still gave him a sense of peace. The sun's rays hitting his skin, the smell of flowers filling the air... all of it was so restful. So peaceful. He could truly get lost in this feeling.

Cale stepped down from the porch and continued further into the garden, letting his eyes drift over everything. The colorful blooming flowers, the bright green grass, and the sparkling blue pond. He breathed in the fresh air and felt the tension leave him. 

This was what he needed. This peace. Every day was so full of things he had to do to keep appearances up, there was no time to relax. No time to just take in everything around him and breathe. But he knew himself well enough to know that if he didn't take time to let all his worries flow off of him, he'd breakdown from all this bizarreness. From the truth of what had happened to him. 

And, right now, he couldn't afford a breakdown.

He was basically in the home of his enemy, if he let down his guard even once, who knew if someone would catch him red-handed.

Until fall arrived and he could get away to the academy, he needed to play the role of Calla Frosthaze. He needed to study until his eyes bled. Try to learn as much as he could about this world, and more importantly, his new life. At the academy, according to the novel, Calla didn't have any close friends due to the age difference, so he should be able to relax more there. There wouldn't be as many expectations on how he should act.

How he should behave. Who he should be.

No, he would have much more freedom there, as long as he caught up with his studies.

Which was where the problem truly laid.

Cale wasn't a genius, but he had a good memory. He could memorize the maps, the terms and whole paragraphs of words. He could force himself to remember it all, but that didn't mean that he understood it. He knew a whole bunch of words that he didn't understand the meaning of because he hadn't managed to find a dictionary in the library. He just hoped there was one somewhere, or he was going to have a lot of problems down the road.

What if he had to write essays? What if he had to actually explain something to the class? What if the teacher asked a question that he was required to answer? He'd make a fool of himself.

So the peace the gardens gave him was very much appreciated.

He embraced the feelings he got, feasted his eyes on the view and tried to forget, for a few short precious moments, that he was in another world. In another body and that he may never see his family again. That he may never read his favorite book again, watch his favorite tv show or see the familiarity of his room. His parents, his cousins, may all be entirely lost to him.

Somewhere out there, in another world, his body may be dead or occupied by another soul.

It was a lot to think about.

And a lot to want to forget.

Cale sighed and just stared up at the blue sky. It was bright, with very few clouds covering it and it was a comfort he hadn't known he needed. At least the sky looked like he remembered. At least that hadn't changed.

Everything else had.

A rueful smile flashed across his face as he sat down on the grass. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. This body was doomed. It had a deadline in the most literal sense.

What was even the purpose of his coming here? To save Calla's life? Or just an accident?

All of the options were depressing.

If he'd had something to go off of, a mission to complete... it would have been so much easier then. So much easier to keep up the hope that he would one day be home again.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but the silence of his own mind and a body that wasn't his.

When should he stop wishing that this was all a dream?