Who cares about swords and magic, please give me a phone!

"Do you think he's angry?"

I was laying down on my stomach, on the comfortable library couch. The fabric felt soft on my cheek, and it was easy to fall asleep there with the warm sunlight pouring from the huge window.

But I couldn't.

I had been resolving myself to face Natha and...well, I didn't actually have a concrete plan on what I wanted to convey to him. But I did want to address the thing about the doctor. Even if I had to twist some truth—just enough so I don't have to explain about the transmigration thing—I wanted to tell him that I thought about the doctor because they looked similar, and that I had no lingering feelings anymore. Or at least I thought so.

I wanted to come clean too, about reading his journal. It wasn't because I wanted to ask him about the continuation of his adventu—I mean, journey. Ahem—yes, definitely not because of that. I swear it wasn't because I couldn't find the next volume—I mean notebook—within the tower.

And what a damn big tower this was.