Gwen's song wakes up to the melody of a solemn Walce, accompanied by the power of a whistle.

She instinctively touched her smartphone and made the familiar swipe gesture to unlock it. Instead, her fuzzy fingers met the strange sensation of her body's keys. There was a frenzied groping, followed by a voice:

BBC World, 21 September 2001: An ancient red dragon has destroyed a section of the London Underground, killing more than 200 people and injuring thousands, paralyzing London. Authorities have linked this latest incident to similar incidents involving magical creatures carried out by the anti-tower cabal known as the Ghost – the latest terrorist attack by the Mayor of London, Sheriff Livingstone (Livingstone), called the latest terrorist attack a day of infamy......"

More terrorism, Gwen groaned longingly. Eventually, she found the mute button.

Slowly, the synapses that were depressed by Mott and Chanton ignited one by one.

Red Dragon?

What's that, the new euphemism for weapons of mass destruction?

Wait, she thought twice in her head.

The date is correct. It was September 21, but the year seems to be 15 years less. She stumbled to bed in 2017, but the report says it was 2001.

She regained her senses, examined the bricks in her hand, and confirmed the date, only to be confused by an alien device made of ceramic material, and the screen did not look like a backlit light-emitting diode.

The only clue that could be Nokia is that damn ringtone.

She flipped the device over.

There are no signs. There are no ports. There is no battery slider.

It's not her iPhone.

Her mind was pounding.

Will she be capped? In her office, at her own company party? That's ridiculous. Even if she had, there were security guards and staff who were sober enough to take her to the hospital. At the same time, her joints caught fire. She was dizzy and hungry. In addition, she had a disgusting digestive acid in her throat.

But now, she has chosen calm over panic.

She checked her surroundings.

First, she slept in a single bed.

Secondly, she is not naked. She was wearing pajamas, but for some reason, her silk pajamas had turned into rough cotton. A scruffy, cheap duvet covered her body. It's a faintly familiar motif for a terrifying, half-faded floral pattern commonly used on IKEA curtains.

The bedroom felt claustrophobic and the ceiling was low and oppressive.

Acquaintance began.

Isn't this her old apartment? from when she was a child? why was she in her adolescent bedroom? what happened to her seaside home? her floor-to-ceiling windows?

The bedroom she lives in now only exists in the distant past.

She went to high school and lived with her divorced father.

"Is this a lucid dream?!" she muttered to herself.

Her voice!

It's young and sweet, without abusing all-night, piping hot coffee and lots of alcohol.

She closed her eyes and thought about it, but the last memory she had when she woke up was a mess of white and yellow.

Slowly, fragments, memories came.

This is her old home. Her original home. The apartment where she grew up as a child. Over there was the folding table where she folded her clean clothes. Next to the cupboard is a basket where she washes her dirty laundry. To her right is her desk, which her father sometimes used as a mahjong table. She can even see her study guidance.

But among the books she was expecting in chemistry, physics, and literature, she saw thick books bound with strange names.

An introduction to Ahlenberg's astral theory?

Without warning, her head cracked.

"Oh!"

A jackhammer came out of her skull. Memories flooded her brain, swelling its synapses and making her feel as if two fingers were pressed against her optic nerve. If anything, it felt like she forgot to take quinine tablets at the Amazon and let malaria run rampant in her head for a week.

I have an aptitude test today. A wandering thought suddenly flashed through Gwen's consciousness.

No, you don't, Gwen dissuaded the voice in her head. You've just hosted a staff party to celebrate your consultant's second anniversary. You drink and dance and forget what champagne is good for a woman in her twenties.

Another thought involuntarily evoked her stream of consciousness, accompanied by painful anxiety. Her boobs twitched. She couldn't breathe.

Today is an important day.

I'm going to do a wake-up test.

If I fail, my mom will be sad.

"Ahh God, she cursed. Does she have paranoid schizophrenia now? Dr. Monroe never said anything about multiple sclerosis!

"Shut up!" she threatened the ceiling.

The sound stopped.

She put her hand on her forehead and found it covered in sweat.

"All right," she whispered to herself. Even as her senses seemed helplessly engaged in this new reality, her mind remained skeptical. She cynically pinched her thighs until the wound appeared and her eyes moistened.

"," Gwen affirmed what she feared most. "Why is this happening?"

She rubbed her eyes in frustration. Her fingertips fell and were mixed with chunks of hard, dry slime, which she crushed with her fingers. , did she cry?

Click.

Her internal conversation was interrupted by an intruder. Immediately, her blood was cold. She's trapped in a strange parallel world, and who or something would come in through that door?

The door opened.

It was her brother Percy, peeking in with a sleepy face.

"Dad called and said you have to get up now," he told her. "Today is your sports day. ”

She looked at the boy silently, keeping an eye out for any buttons or cross-stitches that would reveal a leather coat.

Percy is her older brother, a sports-leaning teenager with olive skin and big bright eyes. He has their mother's thick lips and carries on the family's mixed heritage.

She covered her collarbone with her hand and glared at her brother. What kind of idiot broke into their teenage sister's room? She was dressed indecently.

"Oh! get out of here!" Percy said nothing, even though she yawned without hesitation.

Her brother was gone, and she got out of bed. She has a long mirror in her closet. Now that she's awake, she's going to have to make sure all the pieces on her body are there.

What she saw was the reflection of a brunette girl, who was a little underfed but had a well-proportioned figure. She was pale-skinned and had high cheekbones, like her mixed-race father, but she inherited her mother's eyes. Her striking iris, suffering from a central chromatic aberration, has an amber nucleus bound by a deep circle of jade, suggesting that she is from all over the world.

Gwen put on her earlobe and watched her prosthetic retreat.

Bad luck.

This is not a lucid dream.

She did return to puberty.

After some deliberation, she took off her pajamas and examined them more thoroughly.

When she hits the Big Three, she is curious about her adolescent body. Will she like it or hate it? Despite her contradictory answers, she finds odd about her paleness. Her skin was unusually pale, as if she rarely saw the sun. She recalls that throughout the summer of 2001, she spent the summer of 2001 selling ice cream and learning to surf. As a result, she became caramelized. Compared to her skinny old body, her current physique is a bit anorexic.

However, at the age of 1.80 meters, she created an impressive image for a fifteen-year-old.

At the age of twelve, people thought she was old. She was denied tickets to the children at the carnival and was thought to have accosted them with boys of their age. Once, one of Bundy's guys proposed to her and offered to teach her a mature body.

Gwen rummaged through the closet to find the clothes she wanted to wear, and immediately grabbed a pair of cropped jeans and a white tapered T-shirt.

The door opened again. It's Percy.

"Why are you wearing your Sunday clothes?" he asked in a young voice. "You have to put on your uniform to wake up. ”

At the mention of the word, another wave of nausea knocked her over.

"Get out!" she hissed. Percy fled.

She leaned against the mirror until the hum died down.

Somewhat rude, she did a self-examination and concluded that it wasn't that time of the month.

"Okay, I'm going to take the damn exam. "Did she tell herself to be happy now?"

She rummaged through the closet again and found the school uniform and skirt. She remembered that she hated housework, so it must have been her brother who put away the laundry and packed it.

To thank young Percy, she googled her bits and pieces of memories and found the school uniform hanging in a separate section of the closet.

She checked the results.

The school uniform of Black Acacia High School is a bit loose on the chest, but it looks handsome and serious in other ways. An off-white plaid skirt, a navy jacket, and a white shirt give a private collegiate feel. There was also a vest, but Gwen gave it up for budget reasons.

Tintin!

Her phone rang.

"You're going to be late!" shouted her brother.

Gwen opens the door and sees Percy holding a slice of toast wrapped in tin foil, the spicy smell of vegetables and cheese polluting the air.

"Wait a minute, thanks. He grinned, revealing his pearly white teeth.

"Cheers," she replied, her teenage voice sounding strange as it echoed through her skull. She needed more time to recuperate, but her eagerness to take the aptitude test made her rush out.

She followed a compass and managed to board a train bound for the city.

The streets of Sydney's CBD are as familiar as cement and asphalt, but transport has gone from a whining of fossil fuels to a buzzing mana core. For now, Gwen is happy that no airship has crossed the horizon, fulfilling the vision of a dystopian Weimar metropolis.

The journey to Blackview Bay proved to be instructive. In her brave new world, trains run on the Ley Line, entering a network of magical pipes known as the Grid. Around her, the geo-dynamic Mana powers the city's infrastructure, the most important of which is the protective barrier.

What is the shield?, she furrowed her brow.

Chilling memories told her that humans were hardly safe in this world, and that although magicians ruled the planet, most of them remained under the control of half-humans and magical creatures. God, there is not even aviation due to the presence of predatory monsters in the sky. Ordinary people can only survive in a safe enclave, hiding from the unknown world beyond the shield barrier.

Despite wearing her coat, Gwen shivered uncontrollably. Indifferent to her pain, the taciturn carriage silently drove toward the city center on the magical tracks.

She disembarked from Pyrmont and found herself walking to school in a patterned uniform.

It was Saturday, the day of the aptitude test, which is "awakening."

To what extent is it "awakened"?

Magic.

M-magic?!mage?spell?!Gwen shook her head, trying to make sense of her new dictionary. Where the hell did she go? Is this the budget for Hogwarts? You're a witch, Gwen?

Excited, she trawled her thoughts again and fished up the floc and gelatinous matter from her shattered memories.

One by one, the details surfaced.

In her old world there is a place to sit and high-speed rail, this world has a terrible Predictive Magic Ability Exam, or PMAE for short, that is used to separate mages from the crowd.

As it stands, the vast majority of humanity are non-magical citizens, affectionately referred to as "Listed". In a world of magicians, Noem lives in the shadow of a mage, living a life of diligence as a manager, a service worker, a manufacturing worker, and a front-line body.

For ordinary citizens, ascension is impossible. For those with magical pedigree, a person can also become a mage or mage, and their rare blend of magical, physical, and intellectual potential ensures that their lives are full of charm.

I can't fail the exam!

Okay! Gwen assured her of the spirit of her past.

She pondered her new knowledge over and over again.

So... Apartheid. Gwen bit her lower lip, an unpleasant epiphany swept over her heart. Moreover, the ordeal she is about to face seems particularly suspicious. Does her memory tell her that a single test decided whether she was a worker ant or an August queen?

This seems ridiculous to Gwen, whose old world at least gives the illusion of equal meritocracy. The emergence of the PMAE company is based solely on the Mandate of Heaven.

Even though she's gone, what about her life when she drank once before? She worked tirelessly to build a company of her own, and she's been collecting loyal employees for more than a decade. They just passed their second anniversary, and she was only recently offered a loan account.

Gwen was furious and indignantly trudged as she trudged to her destination. In the distance, the campus of the Black Acacia seemed more unusual than her memory served. A wing of the entire building appears on the existing sandstone façade looming over the bay. Meanwhile, the fish market next door is bustling with semi-magical bounties and reeks of discarded seafood.

"Gwen!"

As I walked up the steep slope towards the school gymnasium, a chirping sound came from the wobbly heads.

She turned around and saw a lively Asian girl rushing towards her, and as she ran, two menacing crowds rioted, their faces covered in cute baby fat.

The girl hugged her, then gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Oh! I miss you so much! I'm so glad we're seniors!"

She recognized the familiar girl as Yue, a Shanghai girl whose family had emigrated from the southern capital. Little Yueyue's Chinese baby face is creamy white and porcelain-colored, punctuated by her little pink mouth. Her bright, crescent-shaped eyes were surrounded by protruding eyelashes that seemed to engulf Gwen with their tenderness.

As soon as she saw a friend she hadn't seen in ten years, she was speechless.

Yue Bai was her closest and dearest friend in high school, but by the time Gwen ran away from home, they had already parted ways.

"It's only been a month. She replied with a smile, hiding the fact that Gwen wasn't in the driver's seat.

Despite her lethargy and delirium, she could feel her alter ego wandering like a Bangor ghost in the dark seclusion of her brain, only she did nothing to justify its unpleasant haunting.

Beside her, Yue began to talk endlessly.

Gwen listened to her old friend chattering excitedly about the recent gossip about who had been tested for what, who had been selected for which scholarship, and what was the best element to pair with which magic school.

When the two finally entered the auditorium, the rest of the students were already waiting in the auditorium.

The principals and instructors were dressed in combat uniforms, which reminded Gwen of the veterans who were awarded medals on Anzac Day. She scanned the hall for more familiar faces, but was quickly dragged into place by a county magistrate.

From the podium, the President addressed the Assembly.

"Students, faculty, principals, welcome to PMAE 2001. This test is administered statewide for tenth graders in spelling courses. After a while, you will be asked to approach the podium and place your hand on the Awakening Crystal......"

There was a whisper in the auditorium, and a boisterous announcement echoed through the air. The headmaster, an old man with jet-black hair, spoke loudly at the rally.

She recognized the man as Maggs Jules Bartlett, Headmaster of the Black Thorns. Under the watchful eye of this man, generation after generation of attendants came, and they all remembered the headmaster Bartlett who was once at the door, 0700 Sharp, dutifully greeting every student. The principal is affable and approachable, and is a person who loves to speak.

"Students, young mages! The path of magic is glorious, but full of dangers and risks! On this path, many tests will surround you with forbidden knowledge, terrible and savage creatures, half-human cruelty and ruthlessness!"

The students suddenly grumbled.

"Now, your life is peaceful – but don't make mistakes and don't let your everyday comforts fool you. We are far more powerful than humanity itself. We are weak compared to the creatures of the wasteland. Compared to deep-sea creatures, we have very few. Compared to the creatures of the elemental layer, we are mortals!"

"But why did humanity insist on the material plane? Why did humanity survive the catastrophe and establish our civilization on Earth? This is because, by casting spells, we are powerful! We humans are united in mastering magic!"

Suddenly, the headmaster's voice took on a new intensity and volume.

"PMA is only the first step, but it is significant. It will define who you are and what you aspire to be. Don't worry, there's a place for everyone in our world. Whatever your talents, we will be grateful to you! The survival of one person helps the survival of all!"

As the students cheered in unison, thunderous applause filled the auditorium. Gwen was confused, but she clapped her hands and stood by her, not wanting to look like a stranger.

"You have all attained a magical affinity, and your junior high school studies have proved that you are worthy of becoming mages, and perhaps some of you may even become mages!" ”

Compared to the previous hustle, the applause appeared dignified. Gwen wondered if every student had thought of their opportunity in Fortuna's hands, whether they would awaken in glory or sleep in anonymity.

As far as she knew, the principal told a convincing truth. Who wouldn't want to have the power to destroy and create? Who wouldn't want to wield the primordial elements of nature, freeze enemies with shards of magic ice, and blast away monsters that threaten their homeland?

But now it's not old Gwen who has to face music. It was her, and Gwen realized that she didn't know what was going on. The only thing she really felt was the numbness of the world she found herself, shocked by the chaotic emotions that suffocated her over and over again.

Survival of Humanity??

The magic of world domination?

She was still in her pajamas an hour ago!