Princess

After a little bit of discussion with the Creator, and finalizing our "contracts"—that's how I would like to call it, with this wish-granting and stuff, or maybe because I was still haunted by that Magical Girl anime that I watched when I was still in high school.

Anyway, all finished. The Creator had agreed with the storyline that I proposed, and then I... will prepare to travel to my next destination; my old world.

"Nanang, you can draw that portal, now. Please imagine the place, and time in which you wish to travel to. But remember, this portal thing to your old world will only be functioning right now. You can't transport yourself there again."

"Roger, boss."

I prepared my charcoal, and brush—I don't know which one of those will be usable in this metaphysical realm, actually. Or probably it doesn't matter, since I now realized that the Creator can do whatever it is needed to fulfill my story. Right?

So yeah, I'll pick my charcoal.

Just... one last thing.

"Creator, can I ask one more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you... create me?"

I can hear the Creator's chuckle. "It's simple, really." 

"I was contemplating about... how hard it was to achieve my dreams. To make my stories into realities. So I made you. I gave you the power to turn anything you want into reality. I... kinda want that," the Creator explained. "So in way, I can fulfill my wish by creating you. Wonderful, isn't it?"

I smiled. "Indeed."

"Good luck, Nanang."

"Thank you."

I closed my eyes, imagining the place that I wanted to go to.

That place... I remember that smell. The smell of old wood desks, the slightly plasticky smell of vinyl chairs, and the faint scent of markers. The smell of possibility and adventure. A different kind of adventure, though. 

I took a deep breath and began to draw.

As I drew, I could feel the portal forming around me. The air became thick and humid, and the smell of my old world grew stronger. I could almost hear the sound of airplanes passing through over the sky.

Finally, the portal was finished. I opened my eyes, and and stepped through.

"Alright, here I come..." 

As I stepped foot into the hallway of my old high school, I found myself transformed from my fantasy outfit into my high school uniform. I guess the Creator really can do anything.

And so, here I was, back in my old high school. The walls were painted a dull green, the floor was covered in linoleum tiles, and the air was filled with the smell of chalk dust and cafeteria food.

I didn't have much time. The Creator only gave me an hour at most for this visit before I had to go to my supposedly 'story world'.

I quickly walked to my old classroom. The date on the classroom wall clock was exactly what I remembered it to be, a few hours before our drama practice. The beginning of it all, the creation of "Shadows of Fate".

And there she was—Putri, the Putri from my high school days. She sat at her desk, flipping through our drama script like she was deciphering the secrets of the universe. Her focus was so intense, you'd think the script was some kind of mystical portal—well, in a way, it was.

"Hey, Putri," I greeted, clearing my throat to combat a sudden wave of nervousness.

She looked up, and I swear, the room got a tad brighter. "Nanang, this is really fun. I like it."

"You do? Well, that's awesome. But I need to revise it."

"Why?"

"There are some... plot holes? Yeah, that's it. I just wanna smooth things over."

Come on, Putri. If you only knew. This is literally a matter of life and death for you.

Well, not this you, but you get the point.

"Can I borrow your laptop, please?"

"Sure, go ahead."

As Putri made room for me, I hastily began my revisions. Skimming through the script, I felt a twinge of embarrassment over my high-school-level writing. All that teenage angst, that edgy phase we thought was so cool.

I'd have no problem with the edginess if it wasn't coming to life in another realm. Characters suffering because I thought it was 'cool'? Nah, not on my watch.

So yeah, I rewrote things, aiming for a good story that didn't torment its characters for the heck of it.

I checked the watch again.

Have I ran out of time?

I didn't know. All I knew was that I had to finish.

And finally... the last line.

"Wait, you made my character marry your character?!" Putri interjected. "Don't do that... I don't want to become high school gossip."

"It's okay, trust me. It's just a story."

If only you knew, Putri.

"Fine, whatever. I guess a wedding would make it more entertaining."

Phew. Dodged a bullet there.

I chuckled, my nerves making a quick cameo.

Back in high school, I liked Putri, but it never went anywhere. Would I have wanted things to be different?

Who knows? And honestly, it wouldn't matter.

From her point of view, I'd meet my end several years later, in that airport.

So for now, just supporting her dreams would be enough.

"Putri," I called out softly.

"Hm?"

"You're going to make a great doctor."

"Wait, have I told you?"

Crap. I'd jumped the gun.

"Maybe," I laughed awkwardly. "I mean, you're an amazing healer in this script."

"Oh, come on..." She playfully slapped my shoulder.

I never saw her become a doctor because life happened, and we lost touch. But it wasn't just life—maybe I was also afraid to reach out.

Looking at her achievements, her success, and then there was me.

But who cares? It doesn't matter anymore.

Time was ticking. Did I want to tell her something more?

"Putri?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For inspiring me to chase my dreams."

"Have I—"

Even if she hadn't said those words to me, I had to thank her.

"Because of you, I found purpose. And even though the road was rough, I've never regretted a single step. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome... I guess?"

Time was almost up.

I pulled out my trusty sketchbook—the one that had somehow hitchhiked through dimensions with me. "Mind if I draw something?"

"Of course not. You never have to ask."

So I drew her—the Putri who heals in a world she doesn't know exists. Though my pencil couldn't capture all of her, it was a near thing. This sketch was a keepsake—a way to remember her and the limitless possibilities that exist in a reality far removed from high school drama.

I handed her the sketch. "Take this."

"Wow, you're really good at drawing!"

"I've had some practice."

Putri looked at it a little bit, "This outfit... is this my character from the drama?"

"Yeah."

"She's so cute!"

"I know."

I smiled. And yeah, I was missing the healer Putri from that other world.

"You're being weird, Nanang. But thanks."

"I know we'll reach our dreams, somehow."

Putri smiled, though her eyes still looked a bit confused. "I believe it, too."

I looked up at the sky through the classroom window. For a moment, it reminded me of simpler times, when the only drama was whatever script we were working on. Sure, there were homework and other responsibilities, but back then, any dream felt 

Then, I blinked, and everything changed.

"Are you okay, Nanang?" I heard Putri ask. This time it was fantasy Putri, and I was lying in her lap. She looked worried.

"Nanang is back~pyu!" Pyuan exclaimed.

"Thank God you're back! I was about to zap you with a magic bolt to wake you up!" Nabilah said.

I felt the warmth of Putri's healing magic envelop me. She'd been trying to bring me back to consciousness. Both Pyuan and Nabilah were also there, looking relieved but still concerned. Pyuan's tail twitched energetically, and Nabilah's hands opened and closed in a fidgety manner.

"Welcome back, Nanang," Putri's voice rang out, sweet as heavenly melodies.

"I am home..."

Yeah, this place is my home now.