Chapter 3: Day 1 α part 3

The bell for lunch shrieked, releasing a flood of students into the hallways.

I found Ash, Leo, and Arya already claiming our usual table in the far corner of the bustling cafeteria. Rose was with them, a small, almost shy smile on her face as Arya leaned in, saying something that made Rose’s cheeks flush slightly.

As I approached, Arya glanced up, her eyes flicking from Rose to me. For a split second, a distinct, appraising glare was aimed in my direction before her expression smoothed into neutrality.

"Took you long enough," Leo said, already halfway through a massive, steaming bun. "They almost ran out of the Monday Mega Meat Buns."

My eyes widened. "No way! The Mega Buns?" I glanced at my own tray, conspicuously lacking the coveted item. "How did you even get one? The line was insane." I set my tray down, a sense of profound culinary betrayal washing over me.

Leo took another satisfied bite. "Ah, you know. Perks of arriving early. Plus, Mrs. Davison in the kitchen has a soft spot for me." He winked.

"You... you got a Mega Meat Bun... and you didn't even try to save me one?" I stared at him, aghast. "Traitor! I thought we were friends, Leo! Comrades in buns!"

Leo chuckled, wiping a smear of sauce from his chin. "Hey, don't look at me like that. It's not every day I get to see that utterly defeated look on your face. Especially since it's so rare to see it when we're actually sparring. Consider this a different kind of win for me."

Rose offered a quiet "Hi, Rey."

Arya, meanwhile, was still focused on Rose, her expression animated as if pitching a scene. "Okay, so, one of the production designers Dad works with – you know, the one who did the incredible creature designs for 'Galaxy's Edge Resurgence'? – he was telling me about this amazing movie memorabilia exhibit downtown."

"They've got original props and costumes from some classic sci-fi films. He said the craftsmanship is insane, like seeing the artistry up close. You'd totally love the detail, Rose. We should definitely go."

"That sounds nice," Rose said. Her gaze briefly met mine, a hint of nervousness still there, but it was quickly overshadowed by the genuine interest Arya was fostering. Rose was visibly more relaxed now than she had been all morning, her shoulders a little less hunched, the tight line of her mouth softening.

Arya didn't just talk; she guided the flow. A question here to draw Rose out, a light tease there for Leo, a shared glance with Ash. She kept the energy positive, inclusive.

When Rose mentioned struggling with a concept in physics, Arya didn't offer advice. Instead, her eyes flicked to me for a split second – a tiny, almost imperceptible cue, like a director subtly guiding an actor's focus.

That glance. It was loaded.

My mind jumped back to the train station. Rose, so quiet with me for months, suddenly asking about black holes. It had felt… specific. A little out of the blue. Almost rehearsed. The question hadn't quite landed naturally then, and I'd fumbled.

Now, watching Arya weave this comfortable atmosphere, meticulously ensuring Rose felt at ease, seeing Rose visibly respond to that careful cultivation… The two scenes – the awkwardness of the morning, the engineered ease of lunch – superimposed in my mind.

Rose had taken the step this morning. But the path she’d stepped onto? It felt like Arya had cleared it, maybe even laid down a few strategic paving stones.

Ash, ever the observer, commented mildly, "I usually just like to watch how things unfold on their own. People are more interesting that way."

"But," he added, a slight inclination of his head towards Arya, "I can appreciate the intent behind a well-aimed nudge."

Leo, more direct as always, grinned. "Sometimes time does the healing, sure. But sometimes, you gotta grab the needle and thread yourself and stitch the damn thing back together."

I looked at Arya, really looked at her. Her casual suggestion to Rose about the exhibit, that fleeting, knowing glance she'd given me earlier – it wasn't just random chatter. She was actively trying to mend things between me and Rose.

A warmth spread through my chest. "Arya," I began, my voice softer than I intended.

She immediately threw her hands up, clutching her chest in mock alarm. "Oh no, don't look at me like that! I knew it! You're after my body? And here I was, thinking you were my friend!"

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden leap. Just a second ago, I'd been admiring her subtle skill, and now this. "Your body? Seriously, Arya?"

I shook my head, any fleeting admiration instantly evaporating. "And maybe try to look a little less thrilled if you're going to accuse someone. That smile is practically splitting your face."

Leo, with a grin slammed his hand on the table. "A duel!" he announced. "A duel to the death! I must defend my sister's honor from this… this scoundrel with questionable intentions!"

Ash, without looking up from a small notebook he’d produced, murmured, "Excellent. I'll start taking bets. Fifty-fifty odds on mutual annihilation. Tragic, of course, but one must find the silver lining."

"I’ll ensure the loser gets a very tasteful, very expensive tombstone, funded by a small percentage of my winnings."

Arya dramatically draped herself over Rose. "Oh, Rose, I'm such a terrible person! Why am I so irresistible? It's tearing friendships apart!"

"Oh, here we go," I said, sighing and pinching the bridge of my nose. "Leave it to you, Arya, to make this all about your 'irresistible allure.' Naturally."

Rose patted her shoulder, a bemused smile playing on her lips.

I sighed, shaking my head, though I couldn't stop a smirk from forming. I adopted a slightly aloof air. "You all should know by now. My affections are not so easily swayed. My heart belongs to only one."

I struck a dramatic pose, hand to my chest. "The dazzling champion of justice, the one and only, Princess Starlight! Her 'Sparkling Heart Beam' from the show lives eternally within me, unmatched by any mere mortal!"

Arya made a comically disgusted face. "Ugh, seriously? After all these years, you’re still hung up on her? I genuinely thought that was a phase you’d outgrow by, like, age ten."

"Hey, take me back!" Leo interjected. "I liked Princess Starlight when I was a kid too! She was cool."

"Shut up, traitor!" I shot back. "You probably switched allegiance to her edgy rival, Shadow Sapphire, halfway through season two. I will never change heart like you!"

Rose chuckled softly, her voice low due to her shyness. "I actually watched some of Princess Starlight recently. Rey talks about it so much, I got curious. Even though it's an old children's magical girl show, it's surprisingly entertaining."

Arya, Ash, and Leo all nodded in agreement, the shared, silly memory easing the underlying tension.

The laughter died down, and Arya’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. She looked at me, then at Rose, who started to fidget with her fork.

"Rey," Arya said, her voice losing its playful edge. "You know it's about time, right?"

A heavy beat of silence passed between us. I knew exactly what she was talking about. The accident. How we hadn't really spoken since. How everything was still messed up between me and Rose.

"I know," I replied, my gaze meeting Rose's briefly. "Soon. Soon, everything will be okay."

While they resumed eating and chatting, I let my gaze drift across the cafeteria, my mind cataloging the familiar lunchtime groupings. It was a habit born from observation and the often-inaccurate narratives spun on the school’s anonymous internet board.

The Aviary was a digital institution, more influential than any official school newsletter. Run by some phantom moderator—rumored to be anything from a current tech-savvy senior to a long-graduated, nostalgic alum with too much time on their hands—it was the unfiltered pulse of the student body.

It was where news, real or fabricated, spread like wildfire, where social hierarchies were subtly defined and reinforced, and where unspoken rules of conduct were often laid bare through cryptic posts and cautionary tales.

Everyone read it, even if they pretended they didn't, and its often-inaccurate narratives undeniably shaped how students saw each other and the school environment itself. The labels it assigned, however frivolous, tended to stick.

There was our group, which The Aviary unironically labeled "The Top Group" or "The Cool Popular Kids." The label felt silly, yet I couldn't ignore how it subtly smoothed our path within the school's social hierarchy, a privilege not everyone shared.

It wasn't something I'd consciously cultivated; Ash, Leo, Arya, and by extension now, Rose, were just my friends.

Then "The Sporty Group," athletes who, according to the board, hadn't quite cracked the "top tier" but maintained status through physical prowess.

Close by sat "The Academic Elite," who positioned themselves as the school's intellectual vanguard. Ironically, Ash, and often Arya and I, outscored many of them, but their dedication to the appearance of studiousness was their brand of high status.

A new, rather tame "Delinquent Group" had emerged among the freshmen, replacing a more formidable one that had mysteriously dissolved last year. They mostly kept to themselves, lacking any real menace.

Then there were the kids The Aviary, with its usual lack of subtlety or kindness, had dubbed "The Geeks." They were huddled near the vending machines, passionately debating the merits of a new anime season, surrounded by keychains and idol posters.

I winced internally at the label; it was crude, but it was how everyone, thanks to the board, referred to them. I liked anime myself, and once, I’d tried to join their conversation about a series I enjoyed.

They’d reacted with a mixture of fear and apprehension, muttering something about not wanting trouble. Rumors, I suspected, about my involvement in the incident that led to Rose's memory loss, had painted me as someone to avoid. I’d retreated, not wanting to make them uncomfortable.

Even worse was the label "The Loners," another of The Aviary's blunt and frankly rude categorizations for individuals who simply ate alone. They weren't a group at all, just students scattered at various tables.

In most schools, they'd be prime targets for bullies. Here, however, they existed within an unspoken bubble of immunity. I often wondered about the specific underpinnings of that protection.

The Aviary, of course, buzzed with theories, most of them culminating in thinly veiled warnings and stories – some exaggerated, some disturbingly accurate – about the swift and unpleasant consequences faced by anyone who decided to bother the quiet ones.

The posts often referenced 'that incident with the window last year' or alluded to 'certain upperclassmen you just don't cross,' the implications usually pointing uncomfortably in my direction.

Finally, "The Average Group," the largest contingent, formed countless smaller, shifting cliques, sometimes for no reason other than the desire not to be alone. Even a lack of reason, I mused, was a reason in itself to form a group.

My thoughts were abruptly shattered. A loud clang, followed by an indignant yelp.

Across the cafeteria, a freshman – recognizable by his ill-fitting uniform and swagger – had just shoved a smaller student, one of the so-called loners, sending his tray clattering.

"Watch where you're going, loser!" the freshman sneered.

The usual lunchtime din died instantly. A peculiar silence fell, and then, almost as one, every head in the cafeteria slowly turned towards our table. Towards me.

The instigating delinquent, visibly confused by the sudden, focused silence, puffed out his chest. "What the heck happened to you all? Cat got your tongues?"

One of his own friends grabbed his arm, hissing, "Are you crazy? Don't you know what happened in this school? Don't associate yourself with us if you do stupid crap like that!"

Ash watched the scene unfold, his usual neutral expression fixed, like he was observing a predictable, and slightly tedious, experiment. His eyes, normally calm and analytical, narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"He's new," Ash commented quietly, his voice still even, more to himself than anyone. "Doesn't understand the established dynamics here yet. This is a common miscalculation for freshmen trying to assert themselves."

Then, a beat of silence. If one were looking very closely, a fleeting glint of something cold, almost predatory, flickered in those grey eyes before vanishing, like a shutter clicking closed. His internal assessment, unvoiced but palpable in that momentary shift, was likely far more brutal, a raw flash of contempt: Fucking idiot. Thinks he's tough. Just another piece of shit making noise.

Arya watched the scene, her composure wavering slightly as a frown creased her forehead. She leaned forward almost imperceptibly.

"Rey," she said, her voice quiet but firm, pitched just for our table, "maybe you should let this one go? He's just a clueless freshman. Not worth the trouble." Her eyes then flicked towards Leo, a silent plea for him to also step in and defuse things.

I pushed my chair back and stood up.

"Rey, you don't have to," Leo said, already half-rising. "I'll talk to them."

"Don't interfere," I replied, my voice flat, cold even to my own ears. I started walking towards the bully and his victim.

As I approached, I overheard two other delinquents whispering urgently.

"Seriously? What is wrong with that new kid? Doesn't he get it?" one said.

The other shook his head. "Nah, man, he's clueless. Back in his middle school, he and his crew apparently ran wild, treated guys like that loner as their personal slaves, or so I heard. He’s been asking why it’s so different here, why no one messes with the quiet ones."

"So he didn't check the board? The anonymous board? Everyone knows..."

"Get this – the guy’s practically internet illiterate. Total caveman. Someone had to literally show him the posts. He just doesn't understand how this school works, or who he's about to deal with."

I reached the loner, who was scrambling to pick up his spilled food, trembling. I extended a hand. "Are you okay?"

He flinched, looking up at me with wide, terrified eyes. He was more frightened of me than of the bully. A familiar pang of sadness, mixed with a grim understanding, went through me.

"Th-thank you," he stammered, taking my hand briefly to steady himself before snatching his things and practically fleeing the cafeteria.

"Rose," Leo's urgent voice cut through the silence from our table. "You better go and stop him, or that bully is finished."

Rose looked bewildered. "Me? But… we barely talk."

"You're the only one who can," Leo insisted, his voice tight.

But before Rose could even stand, it was over.

The freshman bully suddenly gasped, his eyes bulging, and crumpled to the floor, clutching his stomach. He stared up in bewildered agony, having clearly not seen an attack, not felt a blow land in any conventional sense.

A sudden, almost collective intake of breath swept through the nearby tables. This was followed by a ripple of hushed, urgent whispers.

"Oh, finally," one student at a nearby table muttered to his companion, a grim sort of satisfaction in his voice. "That freshman has been a pain all week. Someone needed to shut him up."

His friend nodded vigorously. "Totally. But still," he added, his voice dropping and eyes darting towards me before quickly looking away, "just... look down. Don't make eye contact. You know the drill."

From a table slightly further away, occupied by some of the "Sporty Group":

"Told you not to bet against Amaranth handling it," a guy said, nudging his friend who was staring, wide-eyed. "Pay up."

"Yeah, yeah," the friend mumbled, hastily averting his gaze. "Still gives me the creeps how he does that though. No warning, just... boom."

"Just... pretend you didn't see that," a girl at another table whispered urgently to her friend, her eyes wide but fixed on her lunch tray as if it held the secrets of the universe. "Don't say anything."

Her friend nodded quickly, picking up her fork and staring intently at her half-eaten sandwich with exaggerated focus.

Rose was there then, her hand gently taking mine. Her touch was hesitant but firm.

I looked down at her, at the worry in her green eyes. The coldness inside me receded, just a fraction.

"It's okay," I said to Rose, my voice returning to normal, though perhaps a shade too quickly. "I'll stop here."

I turned my gaze to the freshman on the floor. He was pushing himself up, one hand still pressed to his stomach, his face a pale, sweaty mask of pain and utter bewilderment.

"Wha... what the hell was that?" he gasped, his voice thin and shaky. "You... you didn't even touch me! How did you...?"

I looked down at him, my expression unreadable, my voice flat, devoid of any inflection. "What you felt is all that matters. How it happened is irrelevant to you."

He stared up, eyes wide, comprehension dawning not of the method, but of the reality of his situation. The last vestiges of defiance drained from him, replaced by a primal fear.

"Consider this your introduction," I stated, my voice like a chip of ice. "The next won't be so... restrained." I let the implication hang heavy in the sudden stillness around us. "You understand what happens now if you try that again." It wasn't a question.

He didn't speak, couldn't seem to. A series of small, convulsive nods was his only response.

Satisfied, or perhaps simply finished, I gave a curt nod of my own. Without another word, I turned and headed for the stairs leading to the rooftop.

I slipped up the stairs to the rarely used rooftop access door. It was usually unlocked, a semi-forbidden sanctuary.

The city spread out below, a concrete sprawl under a pale sky. The wind was crisp, tugging at my hair. That icy feeling from the cafeteria, the way I'd been with the freshman, still clung to me.

I didn't like it. It wasn't really... me. Maybe figuring out these new powers, seeing what they could actually do, would help shake it off. Get my head straight.

Alone, I let out a long breath and mentally summoned the Main Skill Menu.

Main Skill Menu
[Save & load S] [Point Transfer S] [Pocket Dimension S] [Third Eye A] [Alter Ego EX]

My focus drifted to [Pocket Dimension S]. This one, I had not even touched yet. The description from the novel fragments in my memory was vague, something about extra-dimensional space.

Tapping it mentally, a new sub-menu materialized.

Sub Skill Menu
[Pocket Dimension S]
Overview: 5 Layers available. Each layer 1000 m³ Operational Range: 10m.
Layer 01: [Mode: Storage (Active: 0.00 / 1000.00 m³)]
Options: [View Contents] [Switch to Room]
Layer 02: [Mode: Inactive] Options: [Storage (0/1000 m³)] [Room]
Layer 03: [Mode: Inactive] Options: [Storage (0/1000 m³)] [Room]
Layer 04: [Mode: Inactive] Options: [Storage (0/1000 m³)] [Room]
Layer 05: [Mode: Inactive] Options: [Storage (0/1000 m³)] [Room]
[Global Settings: Door Appearance (Default), Access Permissions (User Only)]

I stared at the dense block of text. Okay, "Pocket Dimension S." Unlike [Save & Load] which was conceptually simple, or [Third Eye] which was a direct sensory enhancement, this one immediately looked more... intricate.

The overview at the top said "5 Layers available." So, five distinct spaces, then. And "Each layer 1000 m³." A thousand cubic meters... that was pretty big. Like a small warehouse for each layer.

Then, "Operational Range: 10m." Operational range... for what, exactly? The skill was called "Pocket Dimension," and the first layer was set to "Storage." So, if I wanted to store something, this range likely meant the object had to be within ten meters of me. That seemed straightforward enough. Ten meters felt like a reasonable bubble for that kind of interaction.

My eyes drifted down to the individual layers. Layer 01 was listed as "[Mode: Storage (Active: 0.00 / 1000.00 m³)]". So, the first one was already set up for storage and was currently empty. Huh, that was kind of like how the first slot for [Save & Load] was already active. Maybe that was a pattern with these skills – the first part, or first slot, always came ready to go.

The options next to it were "[View Contents]" – which made sense for storage – and "[Switch to Room]."

The other four layers were all "[Mode: Inactive]" but offered the same initial choices: "[Storage (0/1000 m³)]" or "[Room]".

Storage or Room... What was the actual difference? Both implied a separate space. Was "Storage" just for inanimate objects, maybe with those special properties the novel hinted at? And "Room" was... a literal room I could enter?

The novel fragments mentioned the protagonist using something similar as a hideout. That sounded more like a "Room" I could physically be inside. The "View Contents" option for Layer 01, which was in Storage mode, also suggested it was for holding things, not necessarily for being in.

If "Room" mode meant I could actually go inside it, then the "Operational Range: 10m" might also apply to how I accessed it. Maybe I could create an entrance within that ten-meter range, or perhaps I just had to be that close to... what? Step into it somehow? That was less clear than the storage application.

At the very bottom, "[Global Settings: Door Appearance (Default), Access Permissions (User Only)]". "User Only" for access sounded good. Didn't want anyone else poking around in there.

"Okay, Storage active in Layer 01," I murmured, deciding to start with what was already set up. The novel had mentioned time freezing inside the storage, and "absolute volume." If Storage was for items, those properties would make sense. Time to find out.

I looked down at my lunch tray, with my uneaten food, lying a couple of feet away. "Store tray," I thought, focusing on the tray and the active Layer 01.

There was no dramatic flash, no sucking sound. The tray simply vanished from the grimy rooftop floor. I hadn't needed to touch it; it was well within that ten-meter operational bubble the skill seemed to possess.

The menu updated:

Layer 01: [Mode: Storage (Active: 0.02 / 1000.00 m³)]
Options: [View Contents] [Switch to Room (Requires Storage Empty)]

"Zero point zero two cubic meters?" That seemed efficient. Absolute volume. The system wasn't storing the tray with all its empty spaces and awkward shape; it was storing the actual material of the tray and its contents, compressed down to their fundamental volume.

A thought occurred to me. One tray was easy. But what if I stored hundreds of items? Or dozens of identical-looking water bottles? How would I retrieve the specific one I wanted without pulling them all out? How would I even remember everything I'd stashed away?

This led me back to the "[View Contents]" option. I focused on it mentally.

Instantly, a miniature, translucent hologram of my lunch tray shimmered into existence, floating in the air before me, about chest high. It was perfectly detailed, a ghostly three-dimensional representation. Only I could see it; the world around the hologram remained solid and normal.

"Okay, so it shows me what's in there," I mused. "But what if there were more items?"

I mentally pictured my sandwich and apple, currently on the stored tray. As I focused on the thought of "sandwich," the hologram of the tray seemed to become more transparent, and a ghostly image of my sandwich appeared, superimposed within the holographic tray, individually selectable if I wished. The apple appeared similarly when I focused on it.

So, it's like a mental X-ray of what's inside, I thought. And this ghostly image... only I could see it.

A weird thought popped into my head: if I stored, say, a textbook or notes in here, I could just… look at them whenever I wanted, completely invisible to anyone else. Like having cheat sheets floating in front of my face during an exam. Not that I would – that felt like a whole other level of pointless trouble – but the potential was there. Interesting.

"Impressive," I breathed. So, I could visualize everything at once if a layer had many distinct items, or focus on categories. If I had multiple layers active in Storage mode, I'd presumably be able to switch my view between them. This addressed the inventory problem perfectly.

My initial thought was to check the "Room" option next. I focused on the "Switch to Room" option. The text "(Requires Storage Empty)" was now clearly visible. Right. I couldn't just flip modes if something was in storage.

"Retrieve tray."

The holographic tray vanished as the real one reappeared at my feet, exactly as it was. The menu for Layer 01 reverted:

Layer 01: [Mode: Storage (Active: 0.00 / 1000.00 m³)]
Options: [View Contents] [Switch to Room]

Before I'd stored the tray, I'd taken off my cheap digital wristwatch. I'd then pulled out my phone, synced the watch's seconds display as precisely as I could to my phone's clock, and then placed the wristwatch on the tray with my food. My phone had stayed in my pocket.

Now, I picked up the retrieved wristwatch. It showed, for example, 12:37:15. I quickly pulled out my phone. Its clock read 12:40:28.

The wristwatch on the tray was frozen, displaying the exact time it had shown when I put it in there. My phone, however, had continued ticking forward the whole time I was experimenting.

The sandwich and apple also looked completely unchanged, but the watch was the undeniable proof. Time inside the storage was completely stopped. Time freeze confirmed. This was incredible for logistics.

Now, with the storage for Layer 01 empty, I focused on it again and mentally selected "Switch to Room."

The menu changed:

Layer 01: [Mode: Room (Active)] Options: [Open/Close]
[Switch to Storage (Requires Room Vacant)]

So, my lunch tray was no longer "conceptually" in Layer 01's storage; that aspect of the layer was truly empty now.

The novel said living beings could access it, implying it was habitable. But habitable how? Earth-like or Alien planet-like? Or just 'not immediately lethal to something'?

The thought of stepping into a vacuum, or a toxic atmosphere, or a radiation bath, sent a shiver down my spine. Just because time passed normally in storage didn't guarantee safety for a human in Room mode. I needed more than just a hopeful assumption.

My gaze flickered to the small, temporarily "borrowed" Geiger counter from the science lab. It rested beside an equally "borrowed" small animal carrier containing one slightly bewildered-looking lab mouse I'd managed to acquire during a frantic detour after homeroom.

My stomach churned with guilt. Using a living creature, even a mouse, as a canary in a coal mine felt awful, but the alternative – stepping in blind – felt catastrophically stupid. The potential for unseen dangers like radiation was too high.

"I'm sorry, little guy," I whispered to the mouse, which twitched its nose, oblivious. "This will be quick, I promise."

"Open External Access," I willed, my focus on a spot a few feet away on the rooftop – well within the ten-meter limit for placing the portal.

Another sub-option appeared:

[Door Size: 1m x 2m (Adjustable)] [Placement: Adjacent Surface]

I mentally pictured a standard door. A faint shimmer coalesced in the air, then solidified into the translucent outline of a door, humming faintly.

My heart pounded. I had already switched on the Geiger counter, noting its baseline reading of the rooftop's normal background radiation. I then carefully secured it to the side of the small animal carrier with some strong tape from my "borrowed" supplies. The mouse was, of course, already inside the carrier.

I’d also tied a thin, strong cord, found in a utility closet, securely around the carrier's handle. I didn't want to risk reaching into the portal myself, not yet.

Holding my breath, and the end of the cord, I gently nudged the carrier with my foot until the entire unit – carrier, mouse, and attached Geiger counter – slid just inside the shimmering portal. I made sure the Geiger counter's display was angled so I could still read it through the translucent portal.

I waited, watching intently. One minute. Two.

The mouse was still moving, sniffing around, seemingly unperturbed. The Geiger counter’s display, clearly visible, remained steady, its clicking at the same slow, regular pace as the background radiation reading I'd taken moments before. No alarming spikes, no sudden jumps in the numbers.

My shoulders sagged with immense relief. After five agonizing minutes, I gave a gentle tug on the cord, carefully pulling the carrier, with the attached Geiger counter and the mouse inside, back out onto the rooftop.

The mouse was fine, still curious, twitching its nose. The Geiger counter's readings were unchanged from the rooftop's baseline.

"Thank God," I breathed, a wave of relief so strong it left me weak-kneed. "You're okay. You're okay." I felt a surge of genuine gratitude towards the small creature. I'd return it, and the counter, as soon as I could.

Now, with at least some empirical data suggesting the immediate environment wasn't hostile, I could proceed.

Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and simply stepped forward, through the shimmering outline of the portal.

The view of the rooftop, the city skyline, the animal carrier and Geiger counter I’d just retrieved – it all receded as I crossed the threshold, replaced by the interior of the dimension.

I was standing in a perfectly cuboid space, the walls, floor, and ceiling a seamless, matte grey. The air was still, neutral-smelling, and lit by an even, sourceless light.

I took a deep breath – it felt like clean, filtered air. The temperature was comfortable, the pressure normal. It was precisely ten meters in every direction. Utterly empty.

And behind me, where I'd mentally placed it, was the shimmering outline of the 'door' I had just stepped through. Looking through it, I could see the rooftop, the city skyline, the animal carrier and Geiger counter I’d just retrieved, exactly as I'd left them.

This "Room" was just... a room. A safe, habitable room.

"Right," I thought, experimenting. I focused on the door from inside. "Door size, maximum."

The shimmering portal before me expanded smoothly until it was a massive 10-meter by 10-meter square, occupying one entire wall of the room, looking out onto the rooftop. It felt like standing before an open hangar door.

"Close External Access."

The portal winked out of existence. I was sealed inside the grey cube.

After a moment, I reactivated the door, set it to normal size, and stepped back out onto the windy rooftop. The transition was seamless.

Now to switch back. The menu for Layer 01 still showed:

Layer 01: [Mode: Room (Active)]
Options: [Open/Close] [Switch to Storage (Requires Room Vacant)]

"(Requires Room Vacant)," I mused. Since I had just stepped out, it was vacant. What if I'd left something, though? A stray piece of paper, a crumb from my sandwich if I'd eaten it in there? The novel hadn't detailed that. For now, it was empty.

I mentally selected "Switch to Storage."

A small confirmation prompt appeared in my vision: Confirm switch to Storage mode for Layer 01? Room is vacant.

Note: Any minor, unattended items left in Room mode are unrecoverable upon switching.

"Unrecoverable," I read, the word sending a slight chill down my spine. It didn't say 'moved' or 'ejected.' It said unrecoverable. So, essentially obliterated. Gone. Forever.

That wasn't just for a stray piece of paper or a crumb. What if I accidentally left the mouse in there? Or, horrifyingly, if someone else somehow ended up inside when I switched modes? The implication was stark: anything left behind when flipping from Room to Storage mode would simply cease to exist.

"Good to know," I muttered, the casual words belying the sudden, cold knot in my stomach. For anything important – objects, animals, people – the room needed to be absolutely, unequivocally cleared before switching. This wasn't a power to be trifled with carelessly.

"Confirm."

The menu updated:

Layer 01: [Mode: Storage (Active: 0.00 / 1000.00 m³)]
Options: [View Contents] [Switch to Room]

The implications were staggering. Five such layers. I could have one for pure, time-frozen storage of essentials (as long as I emptied it to use that layer as a room). Another as a fully functional, hidden room with access to the outside world (as long as it was empty to switch back to storage).

I could build things in one, store volatile materials in another. I could create a hidden workshop, a place to think, to experiment without fear of interruption or discovery. All accessible within that ten-meter bubble around me.

[Save & Load] and [Alter Ego]... those felt heavy right away. Messing with time, messing with someone's head – big questions, instantly.

This [Pocket Dimension], though? It just felt... practical. A place to put things, a spot to hide. Sure, that "unrecoverable" thing was scary – gotta be careful with that. But using it didn't immediately feel like I was walking an ethical tightrope, not like the other two. This just felt like... a really useful tool.

And right now, having a place to simply be, away from everything, felt like a superpower in itself.

A new kind of control. Not over time, or minds, but over space. My space.

The bell for the end of lunch shrieked from below, pulling me from my thoughts.

With a newfound sense of, well, something useful at my disposal, I headed back down to face the rest of the day. Right, gotta remember to sneak that Geiger counter and the mouse back to the science lab as soon as I could do it without anyone noticing.

The weight of my responsibilities hadn't lessened, but now, at least, I had a pocket to put some of them in.