Welcome to my humble abode (part 1: How did you get here?)

"Cosplaying? What is this 'cosplay' you speak of? In my world, we do not dress in costumes merely for amusement." Lilith's voice carried the kind of genuine confusion usually reserved for grandparents trying to understand why anyone would want to post their breakfast.

Owen fought the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall – though at this point, the wall probably had more common sense than anyone in the room. The students surrounding her exchanged glances, some stifling laughter while others leaned in closer, drawn to the weird like moths to a particularly dramatic flame.

Hikaru, proving once again why his middle name should've been 'No Social Filter,' grinned wider than a kid who just found the cookie jar unguarded. "So, wait—you've never heard of cosplay? You know, dressing up as anime characters or superheroes? Big conventions, flashy outfits, people taking photos like it's some kind of festival where dignity goes to die?"

Lilith tilted her head slightly, studying him with those piercing red eyes like a cat "I see. A celebration of fictional personas." Her expression remained calm but distant. "In my world, appearances hold deeper significance. They are not worn lightly."

"Yeah," Owen muttered under his breath, loud enough for the dust mites to hear but soft enough to maintain his facade of not caring, "because nothing screams 'deep significance' like glowing hair and laser-pointer eyes. What's next – meaningful face tattoos that predict the weather?"

Despite his best efforts to maintain his carefully cultivated air of indifference, Owen couldn't help but notice how Lilith handled the situation with all the composure of a chess master playing against pigeons. While other transfer students might have crumbled under the social equivalent of a tsunami, she managed it with the kind of quiet authority that made principals nervous and teachers question their career choices.

One girl – probably the same one who once asked if the moon was just the sun sleeping – piped up, pointing at Lilith's hair with all the subtlety of a foghorn at a library. "But seriously, is your hair natural? It's so white—it's like… ethereal or something!"

Lilith blinked slowly, her gaze steady as a sniper's. "It is natural," she replied simply as if explaining that water is wet or that homework somehow multiplies when you're not looking. To her, it seemed like stating facts; to everyone else, it sounded like humble bragging taken to an Olympic level.

"And your eyes—are they contacts? Or are they real too?" another student chimed in, apparently missing the memo about personal space and basic social cues.

"They are mine," Lilith said, her tone carrying just enough frost to make polar bears feel at home. She didn't elaborate, and no one pressed her—though Owen suspected it wasn't because they respected her boundaries. More likely, they were too busy mentally photoshopping her into their favorite anime opening sequences.

From his strategic position against the wall (chosen specifically for optimal eye-rolling angles), Owen watched the spectacle unfold. He should've been annoyed—after all, Lilith had invaded his school now, of all places—but instead, he felt... conflicted. On one hand, her presence had taken his normally mundane life and turned it into a badly written light novel (hopefully not). On the other hand, there was something oddly compelling about the way she navigated the world with confidence.

Hikaru, demonstrating his usual talent for subtle communication by leaning so close he was practically sharing Owen's DNA, whispered at a volume that could probably be heard in the next prefecture, "Dude, she's totally legit. I'm calling it now: UFO royalty! Mark my words."

Owen groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're impossible. Next thing you'll tell me she's got a spaceship disguised as the school vending machine."

"What?" Hikaru shot back defensively, his enthusiasm cranked up to eleven. "Look at her! She's got the whole 'mysterious princess' vibe down pat. Even her confusion about cosplay checks out—if she's an alien, why would she know what that is? That's like expecting a fish to understand bicycle maintenance!"

Before Owen could point out the various holes in that logic, Lilith's gaze flicked toward them, locking onto him with the kind of precision that made laser-guided missiles look imprecise. For a moment, he froze, caught in her stare like a deer in headlights. Then, without missing a beat, she turned back to the crowd, answering another question with the practiced ease of a politician avoiding actual answers.

Owen frowned, his thoughts spiraling fast. Why hadn't anyone questioned her earlier when she said "my world"? Most people probably assumed she meant her home country—a reasonable assumption given her exotic appearance like someone had crossbred a snow queen with an anime protagonist. But Owen knew better—or at least, he suspected better, which was about as comforting as a cactus pillow. Every word she spoke carried an edge, a subtle weight that hinted at truths far stranger than anyone realized.

The school day dragged on like molasses in winter. Each class blended into the next with monotonous precision, a parade of information that seemed about as relevant as learning to juggle underwater. Owen found himself staring at the clock more than once, willing time to move faster—or maybe just stop altogether so he wouldn't have to deal with the growing unease gnawing at him like a particularly persistent hamster.

It wasn't until the afternoon period when Mrs. Chibara's voice had reached that perfect pitch between 'soothing white noise' and 'dying printer,' that his brain finally caught up to the sheer absurdity of the situation. He leaned over during a rare lull in the lecture and whispered to Lilith, who sat directly behind him like some kind of otherworldly hall monitor.

"Alright, seriously," Owen murmured under his breath, careful not to draw attention from their teacher. "How did you get in here? Who approved your transfer? Did you hypnotize the entire administrative staff, or is this some kind of elaborate practical joke?"

Lilith didn't even glance up from her notebook, her pen moving steadily across the page like she was drafting peace treaties between warring nations instead of taking notes about whatever fact Mrs. Chibara was trying to resurrect from the grave of relevance. A smirk played at her lips – the kind of expression that made Owen wonder if she was secretly laughing at some cosmic joke where he was definitely the punchline.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked, her voice low enough to avoid detection.

"Yes," Owen snapped, leaning closer despite his better judgment screaming at him to maintain a safe distance from potentially unstable interdimensional royalty. "That's why I asked. Or did they not have basic conversation logic in your world?"

"A few well-placed words," Lilith replied cryptically, still writing with the focus of an artist painting a masterpiece. "A little persuasion... and the system does not question."

Owen squinted suspiciously, his mind racing faster than his excuses for missing homework. Persuasion? What exactly did that mean? Was she implying what he thought she was implying, or was this just another round of "Let's Make Owen Question His Sanity"?

"Wait..." he began slowly, lowering his voice further until it was practically scratching the floor. "Persuasion? Do you mean... like, Jedi mind tricks or something? Because if you're about to tell me the Force is real, I'm going to need a moment to process why it chose to manifest in my boring high school instead of literally anywhere more interesting."

Lilith paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the page. Then, without looking at him – which somehow made it worse – she added quietly, "Jedi? Let us say... the rules are different where I come from. Though I must admit, your cultural references are... amusing. I have to note them down"

Her words hit Owen like a freight train carrying a cargo of "what the actual hell." For a split second, doubt crept in – doubt he immediately tried to squash with the mental equivalent of a fly swatter. Mind tricks? Seriously? That was ridiculous. There had to be another explanation. Maybe she forged documents or hacked into the school system somehow. Yeah, that made sense. Totally plausible. About as plausible as his cat suddenly developing opposable thumbs and taking up knitting, but still.

But deep down, a tiny part of him wondered. How else could someone show up out of nowhere, enroll in school, and act like they belonged there—all while wearing the standard-issue white sailor uniform like it was royal battle armor? Sure, the outfit suited her in an unsettling way like it had been designed with interdimensional princesses in mind, but that wasn't the point. Something about her presence felt... off, like finding a penguin in a desert – technically possible, but definitely requiring some explanation.

He glanced back at her, studying her profile with the kind of intensity usually reserved for trying to read the fine print on medicine bottles. Her expression remained serene, almost bored, as though enrolling in high school using mysterious means was just another Tuesday for her. Which, considering her story—or at least the parts she'd shared—it probably was, right between "breakfast" and "casually upending some poor student's reality."

"You're unbelievable," Owen muttered, slumping back in his seat. He turned his gaze toward the window, watching raindrops race down the glass again. This time, however, his thoughts weren't focused on the weather or even placing bets on which raindrop would win – they were too busy trying to process the possibility that maybe, just maybe, the world was a lot weirder than his carefully cultivated cynicism had prepared him for.

If Lilith really was telling the truth—and Owen refused to admit she might be because that way lay madness and probably some kind of chosen one prophecy—then what else was possible? Could she actually do things most people couldn't explain? And if she could... what did that mean for him, besides probably needing therapy he won’t pay for?

Mrs. Chibara's voice continued its relentless march through history in the background, fading into white noise like a particularly determined mosquito at bedtime as Owen wrestled with these unsettling questions. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class and his temporary reprieve from both historical facts and existential dread, he felt more confused than a cat in a dog costume.

The only thing he knew for certain was that his life had definitely taken a turn for the bizarre – and somewhere, somehow, the universe was probably laughing its cosmic head off.