Leo had always known, in the abstract sense that authors know things about their fictional worlds, that protagonists possessed a kind of narrative magnetism that drew other characters into their orbits.
What he had not anticipated was how exhausting it would be to experience this phenomenon from the perspective of someone desperately trying to avoid being drawn in.
Kaelen Brightblade, it seemed, had decided that Leo was interesting.
This was a problem of catastrophic proportions.
Leo first became aware of the full scope of his predicament during lunch in the academy's Great Hall, a cavernous space that he had described in loving detail as a place where students could gather to eat, socialize, and engage in the kind of casual interactions that drove plot development in fantasy novels.
The hall was filled with long wooden tables, floating candles that provided warm, flickering light, and the constant buzz of conversation that came from putting several hundred teenagers in one room with unlimited access to food.
Leo had chosen a seat at the far end of a table in the corner, positioning himself with his back to the wall and a clear view of all the exits. It was a defensive position that would allow him to spot approaching protagonists and make a strategic retreat before any meaningful interaction could occur.
His plan lasted exactly as long as it took Kaelen to scan the room, spot him, and make his way over with the kind of determined stride that suggested he had been looking for Leo specifically.
"Leo!" Kaelen called out, his voice carrying across the hall with the kind of projection that came naturally to people who were accustomed to being heard. "Mind if I join you?"
Leo looked around desperately, hoping to spot an escape route that wouldn't require him to climb over tables or vault through windows. Unfortunately, Kaelen had positioned himself between Leo and the nearest exit, and the other students at nearby tables were already turning to watch what they clearly expected to be an interesting conversation.
"I was just finishing," Leo said weakly, gesturing at his barely touched plate of food. "Very busy schedule. Lots of... studying to do."
"Studying what?" Kaelen asked, settling into the seat across from Leo with the casual confidence of someone who was used to being welcome wherever he went. "More theoretical thaumaturgy?"
Leo winced. His cover story from their previous conversation was already coming back to haunt him. "Yes," he said, hoping that Kaelen would find the subject boring enough to lose interest. "Very theoretical. Extremely theoretical. So theoretical that it's barely connected to magic at all."
"Fascinating," Kaelen said, and Leo got the uncomfortable impression that the protagonist was genuinely interested rather than just being polite. "I've been thinking about our conversation yesterday, and I have to admit, I'm curious about your approach to magical problem-solving."
"My approach?" Leo asked, his voice rising slightly in pitch. "I don't have an approach. I just... throw things and hope for the best."
"Modest again," Kaelen said with a smile that suggested he found Leo's self-deprecation charming rather than convincing. "But I've been asking around, and it turns out you've been making quite an impression on the faculty."
Leo's blood turned to ice water. "Asking around?"
"Professor Grimwald mentioned that you've developed some revolutionary theories about emotional thaumaturgy," Kaelen continued, apparently oblivious to Leo's growing panic. "And Professor Sparklebottom can't stop talking about your innovative approach to chromatic spell work. She's planning to write a paper about your techniques."
"A paper?" Leo's voice cracked like a teenager going through puberty. "She's writing a paper? About me?"
"About your magical methods," Kaelen corrected. "Though I have to say, for someone who claims to be studying theoretical magic, you seem to have a remarkable talent for practical applications."
Leo felt Sir Reginald shift in his pocket, and he could practically hear the tiny knight preparing to offer unhelpful commentary about his deteriorating situation. He coughed loudly to cover any potential pixie-related sounds.
"Are you alright?" Kaelen asked, his blue eyes sharp with concern. "You seem... nervous."
"Nervous?" Leo laughed, and even to his own ears, it sounded like the kind of laugh that belonged in a horror movie. "Why would I be nervous? Just because I'm having lunch with the academy's most famous student while professors are apparently writing academic papers about my accidental magical achievements? That's not nervous-making at all."
Kaelen's eyebrows rose slightly. "Most famous student?"
Leo realized he had said too much. "I mean... you're very... heroic. Everyone knows about your... heroic deeds and... things."
"What heroic deeds?" Kaelen asked, leaning forward with the kind of interest that suggested Leo had just said something very intriguing. "I've only been at the academy for a few weeks. I haven't had time to do anything particularly heroic."
Leo stared at him, his mind racing. In his original novel, Kaelen had arrived at the academy with a reputation already established through various pre-academy adventures. But apparently, in this version of reality, those adventures hadn't happened yet, or had happened differently, or had never been intended to happen at all.
The temporal mechanics of reincarnation were giving him another headache.
"I just meant... you seem like the heroic type," Leo said weakly. "You have that... heroic aura. Very... shiny."
"Shiny?" Kaelen repeated, and Leo couldn't tell if he was amused or confused.
"Metaphorically shiny," Leo clarified, digging himself deeper into a hole with every word. "Like... morally shiny. Ethically luminous. You know, the kind of person who would charge into danger to save people, even if it meant getting thrown into a fountain by a magical construct."
Kaelen was quiet for a moment, and Leo got the uncomfortable feeling that he was being evaluated in some way. "You know," Kaelen said finally, "most people have been treating that incident like it was funny. You're the first person to suggest that there was anything heroic about it."
"Well," Leo said, feeling an unexpected surge of sympathy for the character he had created, "you did try to help. That counts for something, even if the execution was... fountain-related."
"Fountain-related," Kaelen repeated with a rueful smile. "That's certainly one way to describe it."
Leo was beginning to realize that his protagonist was more self-aware and less arrogantly heroic than he had written him to be. It was an unsettling discovery that suggested his fictional world was developing in ways he hadn't anticipated.