"Can I ask you something?" Kaelen said, his tone becoming more serious. "And I'd appreciate an honest answer."
Leo felt his stomach drop. "I'm always honest," he said, which was technically true even if his honesty tended to be selective and carefully edited.
"Do you know something about me that I don't know about myself?"
The question hit Leo like a physical blow. It was exactly the kind of perceptive inquiry that he had been dreading, and it suggested that Kaelen was far more observant than Leo had given him credit for.
"What do you mean?" Leo asked, buying time while his mind raced through possible responses.
"You seem to know things," Kaelen said carefully. "About the academy, about magic, about... situations. And the way you look at me sometimes, it's like you're seeing something that I'm not aware of. Like you know something about my future, or my destiny, or whatever it is that people like me are supposed to have."
Leo stared at him, caught between the desire to confess everything and the knowledge that explaining the truth would sound like the ravings of a madman. "People like you?"
"Heroes," Kaelen said simply. "Or people who are supposed to be heroes. I can feel it sometimes, like there's this... expectation hanging over me. Like the world is waiting for me to do something important, and I'm not sure what it is or whether I'm capable of doing it."
The honesty in Kaelen's voice was startling.
Leo had written him as confident and self-assured, but the person sitting across from him seemed genuinely uncertain about his role in the world. It was a level of character development that Leo was fairly certain he hadn't included in his original story.
"Maybe," Leo said carefully, "the world's expectations aren't as important as what you want to do with your life."
Kaelen looked at him with surprise. "That's not what most people say. Usually, they tell me that I have a responsibility to live up to my potential, or that I shouldn't waste my talents, or that I owe it to society to be the hero they need me to be."
"That sounds exhausting," Leo said, and he meant it. "Having everyone expect you to be perfect all the time."
"It is," Kaelen admitted. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just be... normal. To make mistakes without everyone analyzing them for deeper meaning. To fail at something without it being a commentary on my character or my destiny."
Leo felt a strange kinship with the protagonist he had created. "Normal is underrated," he said. "There's a lot to be said for being able to disappoint people without it making the local news."
Kaelen laughed, and for a moment, he seemed less like a fantasy hero and more like a regular person who happened to have been born with exceptional abilities and unrealistic expectations. "You know, Leo, you're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?" Leo asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
"Someone more... ambitious, I suppose. Most people who demonstrate the kind of magical talent you've shown are eager to make a name for themselves. They want recognition, advancement, and opportunities to prove their worth. But you seem like you'd rather hide in the library and be left alone."
"That's because I would rather hide in the library and be left alone," Leo said honestly. "Recognition is terrifying. Advancement means responsibility. And opportunities to prove my worth usually involve people expecting me to do things that I'm not qualified to do."
"Like defeating golems with cleaning supplies?" Kaelen asked with a grin.
"Exactly like that," Leo said. "That was a fluke. A one-time accident that I have no desire to repeat."
"And yet," Kaelen said, his expression becoming thoughtful again, "I have a feeling that you're going to find yourself in similar situations whether you want to or not. There's something about you, Leo. Something that suggests you're meant for more than hiding in libraries."
Leo felt a chill run down his spine. "I'm really not," he said desperately. "I'm meant for exactly as much as hiding in libraries. Possibly less."
"We'll see," Kaelen said, standing up from the table with the kind of graceful movement that suggested he had been trained in combat or dance, or possibly both. "I hope we'll have more chances to talk. I find your perspective... refreshing."
After Kaelen left, Leo slumped in his chair and let out a long, shuddering breath.
"Well," said Sir Reginald from his pocket, his tiny voice barely audible, "that was illuminating."
"He suspects something," Leo muttered. "He knows I'm not just a normal student."
"Of course he does," Sir Reginald said matter-of-factly. "You've been about as subtle as a dragon in a thrift shop. The real question is what you're going to do about it."
Leo looked around the Great Hall, where students were chatting and laughing and going about their normal lives without any awareness that they were characters in a story that was rapidly spinning out of its author's control.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I honestly don't know."
---
[New Quest Issued: Navigate Protagonist Friendship]
• Description: The main character wants to be your friend. This is either a great opportunity or a terrible disaster, depending on your perspective.
• Reward: Access to the main plot and all the dangers that come with it.
• Failure Penalty: Continued attempts by the protagonist to figure out what makes you so interesting.
---
[Warning: Plot Convergence Imminent]
• System Note: Your attempts to avoid the main story are failing. The narrative is beginning to bend around you, whether you like it or not.
---
Leo stared at the quest notifications, then closed his eyes and tried to imagine a world where he could just be a normal person with normal problems and a normal amount of attention from protagonists.
It was a beautiful dream.
"I think," he said to Sir Reginald, "I'm going to need a completely different approach to this whole situation."
"What kind of approach?" the pixie asked.
Leo opened his eyes and looked around the Great Hall one more time, taking in the sight of all the students who were blissfully unaware that their world was fictional and their lives were governed by the rules of narrative structure.
"I have absolutely no idea," he said. "But whatever it is, it's going to have to be better than what I've been doing so far."
"Given your track record," Sir Reginald observed, "that shouldn't be difficult to achieve."
Leo had to admit that was probably true. Unfortunately, he was beginning to suspect that his problems were just getting started.