"Isekai"... a genre of fiction well known in Japan, but also in overseas countries. The main character travels from his/her world to completely unknown, new world as a hero, villainess, or something like pig or vending machine. 

   Usually it goes into one of two categories. The mc dies and gets reincarnated or suddenly gets summoned to another world. 

   But sometimes... the main character can be taken over to another world, after being sold by his own parent, then taken to unknown facility just to wake up one day in a cottage built in the centre of a great forest. 

   If you didn't pay attention to previous chapter you might ask: "Why so specific?" 

   Well… You can probably guess already anyway. 

   After I came back to my senses that day, Zephyra explained to me more or less what happened. Turns out this whole time in the facility, I had no idea, where I really was. Apparently, they were taking test subjects from another worlds. 

   As for the reason why, and also how my father got in contact with them in the first place… It all stays a mystery...

   Maybe it’s for the best. After all, it’s not like there was anything that would make me want to go back to my world in the first place. 

   But let’s stop with this depressing talk. How about I tell you about my current lifestyle?

   As a part of our deal, Zephyra gave me access to her personal library.

   It wasn’t just a shelf or two—it took up an entire room. There were a lot of books. Manuals, journals, dusty old magic tomes, and even some completely random stuff like gardening guides. The ones that caught my attention most were the psychology books and mystery novels. I didn’t really know why—maybe I just like to use my brain. Now that I think about it, I really liked playing chess with Zeno. Maybe that is also because of it?

   One of the books mentioned that observing the people around you on a daily basis improves your understanding of them. For some reason, that line stuck with me. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe I just needed a hobby.

   That’s why I started writing a diary.

   It’s been a month since I started living there and to be honest, I was still getting used to it.

   Life here was simple. I woke up early, unlike someone else in this house who refuses to get up in the morning or do most of the house chores. For that reason, I ended up as the one in charge. I was handling cleaning, laundry, organizing things… basically, I was making sure the house doesn’t fall apart. 

   I didn't notice that the first day, probably because I was still confused, but after some time I could see, that this house was quite messy. Cleaning all that took me the whole day.  

   As I said, I take care of most of the stuff... 

   Except for the kitchen. 

   That was just a disaster.

   I tried to cook. 

   Once.  

   It was bad. 

   Really bad.

   Honestly, thinking about it still gives me flashbacks. 

   The smell... 

   Zephyra's face when she took that first bite... 

   In short, the topic of my cooking became a taboo in this household...

   ...

   Anyway!

   I'm starting to believe that Zephyra used to be a scam artist. That whole “cool, collected inventor” act disappeared after the first week. She didn't even try to hide her laziness anymore. 

   Her cooking, that she was so proud of, disappeared after the first day. After that we were eating only simple stuff to make, and instants. Many, maaaaany instants...

   After that one week, she was lounging around half the day, dragging herself from one nap to the next like she’s got no concept of responsibility outside of her machines. And when she was not working, she'd mostly either drink or sleep in the most ridiculous positions imaginable. 

   Once, I found her half-hanging off the couch with her face in a pillow and one leg still in a chair. Another time, she was lying face-down on the living room floor like someone had unplugged her mid-walk. Of course, it was my job to carry her to bed when she passed out. 

   Oh, and I also had to change her into pyjamas while she was snoozing away. I know that many men would be jealous of me after hearing that, but trust me, there is nothing to be jealous about. It feels literally like dealing with a messy toddler.

   Those days blured together sometimes. At that point, I felt more like a caretaker than anything else. Though, to be fair, I didn’t hate it. I’ve got my own room, and life here was better than wherever I’d be otherwise.

   Although, when she told me that I would be her assistant, I thought that means helping in her inventions, but turns out I was wrong.

   Once, over dinner, I asked her, “Why aren’t you asking me to help you with your work?”

   She didn’t even look up from her plate. “Because you don’t have magic sense.”

   I blinked. “Magic sense?”

   Apparently, it’s something everyone in this world has—a natural ability to sense mana in the air, and it’s essential for anyone working with magic-based machines or just anything connected to magic. Without magic sense, I wouldn’t be able to understand the flow of mana in the devices she creates. 

   And here I thought I would be able to use magic. I won’t hide that I got a little disappointed.

   “So,” she said with that usual teasing smile, “be a good boy and help me with housework.” 

   "You meant taking care of everything, didn't you?!"

   That pissed me off a little, not gonna lie. Especially, since I was already seventeen years old and she still treated me like a kid. Good boy? Seriously? 

   One of Zephyra’s biggest flaws is her love for alcohol. I swear, she didn’t know the meaning of moderation. Every few nights, she was drinking too much and passed out. 

   If I had to summarize… she’s just Zephyra. 

   Lazy, half-drunk, who treats me like a kid all the time.

   But surprisingly when she was working on her machines, she looked like a professional. It made me theorise that she uses all her energy for her work and regenerates for the rest of a day. At least this is how it looked for me.

   But lately… I’ve noticed something else.

   Every now and then—just for a second—she would look at me with this strange expression. A kind of quiet, almost sad look. She never said anything when that happened. She just stared for a moment, then went back to normal like nothing happened.

   At that time, I didn’t understand why.

   Until that day...