An Unexpected Chat with a One-Eyed Author!

01

"What happened to her?" I queried, eyes widening in surprise, taken aback by the peculiarity of the situation.

"You have been reading some outdated books, haven't you?" Amatilina responded, her indifferent tone making me feel like a fool asking something obvious. "All I know is that, after graduation, she left the village and went to live in Axel, or rather, to beg in Axel. That was five years ago and she hasn't returned since."

"Five years?" The surprise escaped almost in a whisper, my mind spinning to comprehend the temporal discrepancy.

This was unusually peculiar, suggesting a time difference from the story I read on Earth. In that narrative, she had left less than a year ago and was 14 years old when she joined Kazuma's group. This would mean that now, in this universe, she should be around 18 or 19 years old. But she should have gained some fame by now...

"But in the story that I read..." I tried to explain:

"Yes, yes, yes." She interrupted me, looking entirely uninterested in my dismay. I wondered if she realized how strange this revelation was to me.

Before I could ask more, she announced, "We've arrived."

"Huh?" Confused, I followed her gaze to the modest wooden building in front of us. The sign above the entrance read "Registry House." I quickly guessed it to be akin to a registry office back on Earth.

"Well, here we are. Go inside, and they'll give you a visitor's ID to tour the village. They'll even exchange your currency if it's different from Eris," she said, her voice brimming with impatience. I could almost see the coffee cup in her hand and the longing look she cast in the direction of where the nearest café might be.

"But I have one more question..." I started, but she cut me off.

"Then ask someone else. I've wasted enough time. I'm off to enjoy my coffee and a piece of cake in peace. I hope I don't see you later." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone in front of the small building.

"Hmpf, what a lazy woman," I muttered to myself before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

02

The Registry House was a modest structure, occupied only by a dark mahogany counter, some chairs, and a massive amount of paperwork piled behind the counter. A gray-haired man, probably in his seventies, sat indifferently in the back, chewing on something without paying any attention to the entrance. Then, a young woman, perhaps in her twenties, with black-streaked hair, an exotic and beautiful face, and, surprisingly, an eye patch, emerged from behind the counter.

"Good afternoon, traveler! Are you here to register?" Her voice was cheerful and calm, her only visible eye sparkling with curiosity and enthusiasm. Something about her made me pause...

That voice, that face, and that volume... could it be?

I managed to stammer out a "Ye-yes," with my voice trembling. Did I know this woman? My mind raced, her image reminding me of a character I knew very well... but no, it couldn't be...

"Alright, what's your name?"

"Vitor," I replied, my voice soft, my hands slightly shaking.

"Great! So, Vitor, please fill out this form." She said, sliding a paper, a quill, and an ink pot across the counter. "It asks for some basic information like your full name, occupation, where you come from, the duration of your stay, and the purpose of your visit."

I looked at the form. It was quite clear, and divided into well-defined sections:

Full name:

The quill glided smoothly across the paper as I wrote, "Vitor Venante."

Occupation:

"I need to make something up...", I thought, and ended up writing "Student."

Place of residence:

Here, I had to pause for a moment, pondering. I couldn't tell the truth. After a while, I settled for the fake place I had already mentioned: "Amerina."

Reason for visit:

The truth would be far too absurd. So I opted for a simple "Tourism."

Number of days intending to stay:

Still uncertain about how long I would need to figure out what was going on, I wrote: "At least 3 days."

I filled it out in just a few minutes and then returned the form.

03

She quickly read the paper, her brow furrowing afterward.

"Hmm, okay. Student, tourism. Amerina? Never heard of that place... where is it?" The question hung in the air, her single eye twinkling with a flame of suspicion and curiosity.

I swallowed hard, her presence - the scent, the voice, the aura - began to press on me. I wasn't sure I was prepared for this. I had only imagined her features while reading about her in my favorite Light Novel and now... she was right in front of me!

It would make sense for her to be here, after all, this is a place where one must write a lot...

"Sir? You're strangely staring at me. Hello?" Her voice interrupted my daydreaming, and I realized I had been caught off guard, staring at her intently. I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

"Your eye patch," I managed to murmur, dodging her inquisitive gaze and pointing to the adornment covering her right eye.

"Oh, you like it? I've worn it since I was a kid. It seals a great magical power that lies within me!" She exclaimed enthusiastically, clearly proud of her fantastical explanation. Despite all the internal tension, I almost chuckled.

"Again with that talk, Arue?" The old gray-haired man, sitting at the back, complained without turning around, a tired grunt echoing through the room.

"Arue?" The word escaped my lips almost like a question, my voice coming out louder than I intended, the surprise clearly apparent.

"Yes, that's my name," she confirmed, looking a bit confused by my reaction. She then tried to resume the conversation. "Anyway, about Ameri-"

It wasn't just the name that was the same. The traits, the voice, the way... The first character from my favorite Light Novel that I encounter. Previously, just words on paper, now she's right in front of me.

"Arue... the greatest writer among the Crimson Demons," I abruptly interrupted, a stupefied look forming on my face.

The old gray-haired man, at the back, turned to the front, his intrigued expression contrasting with his apparent earlier indifference.

She blinked once more, then jumped, as if she had been struck by lightning. "I knew it! I knew that one day my work would finally be recognized! Are you a fan?! You have to tell me, where am I making such a success?!"

"Uh…" The question caught me off guard and I hesitated, my eyes widened, her face closer to mine... stay calm, stay calm, STAY CALM!!!

Feeling the onset of panic, I knew I needed to say something, anything! I looked at her and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Huge rack."

Damn, anything but that!!

The words, impulsive and inappropriate, echoed in the silent room. The atmosphere, once filled with the serenity of old papers and forgotten inkwells, was suddenly filled with an oppressive density, the echoes of my words hanging in the air.

Her single eye, previously lively and curious, suddenly fixed on me, the surprise and disbelief reflecting in its smooth, dark surface like mirrors. The iris began to expand, widening like a constantly expanding universe, becoming more intense, and deeper.

At that moment, a surprising transformation occurred. The abyssal darkness of her eye began to be consumed by a more vibrant, overwhelming hue. A sudden change, almost like an eclipse in fast-forward, from black to red in mere seconds. The color change wasn't just a simple swap of pigment. It was as if her entire being was being reflected in that eye, each heartbeat pulsing in sync with the intense crimson of her iris.

The feeling was almost hypnotic, my attention, my mind, my soul, all locked onto that single red point. I had read about this eye transformation, but nothing could compare to witnessing it in person. It was as if time had frozen, the whole world holding its breath to witness this singular moment.

The room fell into a profound silence, the sound of our heartbeats seeming to echo off the walls. Arue's pulsating crimson eye was the only source of movement, the only anchor in a suddenly paralyzed world.

Then, when the tension reached its peak, her words came like a bomb, shattering the silence, and tearing through the anticipation:

"So you're a sexual harasser."

Crap.