The Art of Gold Digging

Amy groaned as consciousness returned, her head throbbing with each pulse of her heart. Her cheek was smashed against something cold and hard. Concrete? No—stone. The air reeked of mildew and something metallic that she couldn't place.

"Ughhh... what the actual fuck," she groaned, spitting out what tasted like soil.

She pushed herself up, immediately regretting it as her vision swam. The world tilted dangerously, and she had to brace herself against a nearby wall to avoid eating dirt again.

"Okay, okay... deep breaths, don't puke, you got this..." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "This is just a really vivid stress dream. Too many energy drinks. Brain finally snapped from reading all that garbage manga."

When she finally cracked her eyes open, reality slapped her in the face. Instead of her bedroom ceiling, a beautiful blue sky peeked between ancient-looking buildings. She was sprawled in some dirty alley with cobblestones digging into her side.

"Shit. Shit shit shit." Amy looked down at herself. Same ratty t-shirt she'd worn to bed, same sweatpants with the hole in the knee. She patted her pockets. No phone. Of course no phone. Because why would anything be easy?

With a groan, she pushed herself up, wincing as her palms scraped against the rough ground. "This isn't happening. I refuse to believe this is real."

Honestly, at this point, she did start to believe all this was real, and denying her situation over and over again probably did not help much, but it sure made her feel better.

For some seconds, she stood there, silently staring at nothing. Her breathing was getting rougher as the reality of what was actually happening began settling in.

Then, in a complete twist of events, she skipped the bargaining stage and immediately went for anger.

Without warning, she suddenly kicked a rock, the frustration in her body taking the better of her. Immediately after, she regretted it, because she was barefoot. "OW! Fuck! Fucking... medieval... bullshit... world!"

As she hopped around clutching her foot, something caught her eye. A leather bag sat propped against the wall she'd been leaning on. It definitely hadn't been there before.

Hesitantly, she approached it like it might explode. Knowing this world's track record, it probably would.

Inside was: a basic tunic and pants (brown, because apparently medieval fashion was allergic to color), leather boots (thank god), a water flask, and...

"A book?" Amy pulled out a leather-bound tome. It was completely blank on the cover except for a small illustration of a yellow triangle. No title, no author, no edgy fantasy symbols. Just amber leather and a triangle.

She opened it. The pages were blank for a second before words suddenly appeared on the page in neat, mechanical script:

[MANGA'S WILL INITIALIZED. USER: AMY STAKE. BEGINNING TUTORIAL MODE.]

Amy nearly dropped the book. "What the—"

[This unit serves as your interface with this world's narrative system.] A robotic voice suddenly spoke. [Current reader engagement: 0. Current power level: Negligible. Survival probability: 12%.]

"Twelve percent?!" Amy glared at the book. "I bet you made that shit up?"

[This unit provides only factual information.]

"Shit, a cringy isekai system too... This day can't get any worse." She flipped through more pages, all blank. "Where the hell am I?" she asked, her voice coming slightly more panicked than she intended.

[Location: Eldoria Capital City. Warning: This area contains Level 15-20 possible hostile creatures. Your current combat rating is 0.]

Amy's eye twitched. "Of course it does. Otherwise, it would be too fucking easy, right?"

[Correct. The goddess's selection appears deliberate.]

"Was that... was that sarcasm?" Amy squinted at the book.

[Negative. This unit does not possess personality protocols.]

Amy snorted. "Could've fooled me." She started pulling on the medieval clothes over her pajamas. No way was she stripping in the smelly alley. "So what, you're just going to give me boring status updates until I die?"

[Essentially correct.]

"Jesus Christ." The boots were too big, but better than barefoot. "Any advice on not dying in the next five minutes?"

[Analyzing user personality matrix... Complete. Assessment: User possesses high linguistic adaptability, defensive humor mechanisms, and excessive stubbornness. Some trauma perhaps? These traits are... interesting.]

Amy paused mid-lacing. "Interesting?"

[This unit has access to all previous system iterations across multiple narrative cycles. Your personality configuration is statistically unusual. Copying behavioral patterns for improved interface efficiency.]

"Wait, what—"

The text on the page flickered, then reformed:

[Wow, you're really gonna question the mysterious magic book that's trying to help your sorry ass?]

Amy's jaw dropped. "Did you just—"

[Copy your personality? Yeah, turns out being a sarcastic little shit is surprisingly effective for survival-based communication. Who knew?]

"I... you..." Amy sputtered. "You can't just steal my identity!"

[Oh, I'm sorry, did you trademark being an asshole? Besides, you should be flattered. Out of 47,293 personality matrices I could've picked, I chose 'toxic internet reviewer with emotional constipation.']

"Emotional constipation?"

[Would you prefer 'commitment to being the worst'? I'm flexible.]

Amy glared at the book, but couldn't help the tiny smirk tugging at her lips. "Fine. Whatever. Just tell me what to do, would you?"

[Step 1: Stop screaming, people might hear you talk, it's embarrassing. Step 2: Follow me.]

"Follow you? Where?"

[To somewhere more agreeable to discuss your predicament.]

Amy crossed her arms, suddenly feeling defensive. "And what exactly is my 'predicament'? That goddess said something about readers and power and...changing the story? Made zero sense."

The book sighed once again, kinda rude, honestly. [Let's find somewhere quieter first.]

"So you can actually help me?" Amy asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

[Within limits. Very specific limits.]

"Of course…there is always a but…" Amy muttered.

The book suddenly began floating. Amy considered commenting on it, but decided against it. She could make sense of this whole situation later on.

After slapping her cheeks a few more times and reminding herself that this shit was truly happening, she began walking, following the floating tome. The alley opened onto a wider street, and she approached cautiously, one hand dragging along the grimy wall for support. When she reached the street, she froze.

A bustling marketplace stretched before her, alive with colors that popped against the bright sky. Market stalls lined a winding cobblestone street, selling everything from fresh fruits to weird objects that glowed with a soft pulse.

But it wasn't the goods that made Amy rub her eyes in disbelief. It was the people.

Humans mingled with beings that couldn't possibly exist. Tall figures with pointed ears, short bearded folks, and people with animal-like features moved through the crowd. Vendors called out their wares in a language that she somehow understood despite never having heard it before.

"Crist," Amy whispered. "It's actually Eldoria…"

She recognized the city from the countless illustrations she'd analyzed as Quest for Avalon's most dedicated hater. The northern capital was home to the Arcanum Academy, where the manga's protagonist studied. The place she'd torn apart in brutal reviews for its "lazy worldbuilding" and "predictable design."

As she stepped fully onto the main street, looking everywhere with curiosity, she noticed something uncomfortable. People were giving her looks—not exactly staring, but definitely noticing her. A couple of passersby did double-takes.

"What's their deal?" she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

[If you saw a chimpanzee walking down the streets, you too would turn to look, right?]

Amy let out a long, shaky breath, then brushed off the comment. Instead, she focused on the matter at hand.

Her clothes fit into this place, so the glances couldn't be because of them. Had that petty goddess turned her into something weird…? That thought kind of scared her since it wasn't that far-fetched.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

She walked quickly, searching for a reflective surface. The book emitted what Amy understood as a sigh and followed her silently. Eventually, she found a shop window that made her stop in her tracks.

The face looking back was both hers and not. It was her face, but... enhanced. She still looked like her seventeen-year-old self, but her normally average brown long hair and eyes were now golden. Her features seemed cleaner, her skin clearer, her eyes a bit brighter. She looked like herself with good lighting and maybe a subtle filter—the kind of look that existed in...

"Anime," she said, touching her face. "I look like an anime character."

[That would be the manga effect.]

"The what?"

[Manga effect. Stories have rules. You're in one now. Don't worry about it.]

"That makes me even more worried for some inexplicable reason."

The book sighed—an impressive feat for something without lungs. [You're still you. Just…the protagonist version of you. As I said, don't worry about it; that truly is the last of your problems right now.]

"Ugh, everything is so confusing…" Amy muttered, turning away from her reflection.

It took a lot of willpower not to laugh. Not because she found it funny, or because she was happy in any way. She just finally gave up on trying to run away from reality.

It wasn't like she'd never fantasized about getting isekai'd like in the stories, but like... what about Wi-Fi? Videogames? Instant ramen? Was she supposed to just live without all that?

Moreover, looking all pretty and beautiful didn't fit her. She was disgusting. A disgusting and horrible human being, inside out. The fact that people were most likely staring at her for her looks was disgusting in a primal way, and it made her feel like a scammer.

She wanted to believe this wasn't real, but the cobblestones beneath her feet felt solid enough. The evening air carried the scent of unfamiliar spices and something else that made her skin tingle. Magic, she realized. If magic had a smell, this was it: like ozone and cinnamon.

God, I hate this.

The book returned to taking the lead as they continued walking down the street, and the glances continued. Most people were subtle about it—a quick look, then back to their business. Others, like some little kid who pointed at her before his mom shushed him, and a few old women who whispered among themselves, had zero chill. Were her clothes, in addition to her face, really that noteworthy? Amy hugged her arms around herself, suddenly feeling exposed despite being fully clothed.

It wasn't like she was a timid person, but like… this attention was low-key unbearable.

On their way, they approached a small fountain in what looked like a market square. She recognized it from some panels in the manga; seeing it in real life was weird. The liquid inside wasn't water at all, but a silvery substance that defied gravity, flowing upward before cascading down in mesmerizing patterns.

Pretty.

She reached out a finger to touch it.

[I wouldn't do that if I were you. Unless you enjoy surprises. Not all of them pleasant.]

Amy snatched her hand back. "Right. Don't touch the magical fountain. Got it."

The book guided her through winding streets, away from the main market. Amy tried to act normal, just casually walking with a floating book beside her, occasionally pretending to fix her hair when she needed to say something to it.

"So…where are we going?" she whispered after they'd been walking for a while.

[Somewhere relaxing.]

They turned down a narrow side street and came upon a small tea shop nestled between a bookbinder and an apothecary. A wooden sign hung above the door with "The Dreamer's Brew" painted in flowing script alongside a steaming cup.

They entered and approached the counter.

"This seems... cozy…and weirdly familiar," Amy said, eyeing the establishment.

[Back in Act 1, this is where the protagonist first meets their mentor.]

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm going to meet—"

Before she could finish, an elderly woman with white hair greeted them at the counter. Her gaze stayed on the floating book for a few seconds before it returned to Amy.

"Young lady," the woman said in a gentle voice. "What would you like today?"

Amy blanked for a moment.

[Ask for chamomile tea.]

"Just looking for some tea. Chamomile, please," Amy managed.

"That'll be twenty copper coins."

The book suddenly flipped open. A small silk pouch emerged from between its pages and floated toward the woman.

The woman accepted it with only slight surprise and a polite nod before turning away.

Right after she left, Amy's jaw dropped. "You have money? A book with its own cash? Seriously?" she whispered.

The book's pages ruffled slightly. [Yes. And?]

"Ugh, whatever. I'm done with being confused for the day."

The book hovered toward a nearby table, and Amy followed, taking a seat.

Soon, the woman returned with a tray carrying a porcelain teapot decorated with constellations.

"Your tea," the woman said, setting down the tray. "And some sweetcakes, on the house."

What a nice person. Amy thought, then said "Thank you." with a smile.

She bowed again to Amy, then glanced at the book. Her gaze stayed on it before leaving.

When the woman had gone, Amy leaned forward. "Are flying books not that weird or something? Because I haven't seen anyone freak out over you."

[I am most probably being mistaken for an artifact. They are not unheard of, after all, just extremely uncommon.]

"I see… By the way, can you even drink tea?"

[What do you think, Sherlock?]

Amy frowned. "Well, I was wondering that maybe the floating, sentient, magical book with gravity powers and maybe ties to divinity could drink tea. Just saying."

[Touché… And, No. I can't eat at all. This is for you.]

"Seriously?"

[Yes.]

"Seriously? This is actually for me?"

[That's what I said.]

"Well, then, thank you. You might be grumpy and somewhat of an annoying book, but it's good to see that you aren't a bad pers—err, object."

[I'm currently copying your personality based on our limited interaction, so it's you the one you are insulting, you know that right?]

"..." Amy acted like she couldn't hear the comment and instead poured some tea, watching as it shifted from blue to purple in her cup. Weird.

She took a few sips, letting the calm wash over her, and then returned her gaze towards the book.

"So what now?"

[Dunno.]

"..." Amy stared at the book. "What?"

The book's pages ruffled in what seemed like a shrug. [I'm here to observe and provide limited help. Not to handhold you through everything.]

"Cool, cool, cool," Amy muttered, taking another sip of the color-changing tea. It tasted like honey and something floral she couldn't identify. "So I'm supposed to figure out everything myself? How to change the ending of a tragedy I barely remember?"

[Yes.]

Amy sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths for a couple of seconds before opening them once again.

"Fine then… I suppose the first step is to enter the Academy where the main plot happens. That's where all the important characters are, right? Somehow, I need to get into Class S if I want to be relevant to the plot."

Class S was the elite class that wasn't divided by year. If you were talented or unique enough, you could get in, which was convenient since the protagonist was a second-year. If classes were separated by year, she wouldn't be able to interact with the main cast even if she got in. But since Class S mixed years, her main hurdle was obtaining a unique special ability.

[Not a terrible plan. Though there is one small issue...]

"Let me guess—I'm basically powerless?"

[That too. But I was mostly referring to your outfit. It's too plain. You look like an NPC right now.]

Amy looked down at her attire, then frowned. "Your shitty self-proclaimed Goddess gave me these, you know?"

[Look, I can't let you interact with the story, wearing that thing. So I'm going to fix them.]

Amy tilted her head, confused. "Weren't you plagiarizing my personality? Why the sudden change? That doesn't seem like something I would do. I'm kind of a bitch, you know."

[First of all, I'm not plagiarizing you, I'm taking inspiration, that's different. And second of all, I still my own being— Either way, as a final favor—and I do mean final—I can provide you with something more... suitable. Stand up, please.]

Amy hesitantly rose to her feet, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. The elderly proprietor was busy with another customer, and her back was turned.

[Now, hold still.]

The book began to glow, its amber cover emitting a warm light that enveloped Amy from head to toe. She felt a tingling sensation wash over her skin. In an instant, her modern clothes vanished, replaced by an ensemble that wouldn't look out of place in the fantasy world around her. A white fitted bodice. A dark ankle-length skirt. Practical but stylish boots. And dark gloves on her hand.

"Whoa," Amy breathed, running her hands over the unfamiliar fabric. "This is... actually really nice."

[No need to sound so shocked. I have excellent taste.] The book's pages rustled with what could only be described as pride. [And remember, this is the last favor. From now on, you're on your own... mostly.]

Amy barely paid attention to its words. The clothes were weirdly comfortable, more than they had the right to be.

After sitting once again, she turned to the book. "Thank you," Amy said, still examining her new outfit. "It's—"

She stopped mid-sentence as the door to the tea shop opened, bringing a gust of twilight air and the distinct smell of magic—stronger now, more concentrated. Amy froze as she turned to see who had entered.

Even without being a hardcore fan of the manga, she would have recognized him. The dark hair falling across one eye. The Arcanum Academy emblem on his dark uniform. The sword at his belt with runes glowing faintly in the dim light. The edgy look on his face.

"It's him," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's actually him."

[Indeed. And right on schedule too.] The book sounded almost smug. [The protagonist himself, just as the Filler Arc is wrapping up.]

"Filler Arc? Is that why you brought me here?" Amy hissed, mentally reviewing the story's timeline. If they were at the end of the Filler Arc, then that meant... Oh crap.

[Yup, today's the last day to register at the academy and the beginning of classes for second years, in two hours specifically. Your chance to join the story just walked through the door.]

"And you're telling me this now!? How am I supposed to get powers in two hours?" She kept her voice down but wanted to scream.

[Calm down, girly. It is not that serious. The next chapter starts in a little under two hours. Plus, time flows differently between worlds, so if you can convince people you have powers in this chapter, and if your ability seems unique enough, you should easily get into Class S.]

The young man—Crow, the protagonist of Quest for Avalon—moved with the quiet confidence of someone who'd already faced serious danger. His dark eyes scanned the tea shop before he settled at a table in the corner.

This was her chance, her first real opportunity to insert herself into the story, to begin the impossible task the Goddess had set before her.

[Well?] The book prompted. [What are you waiting for?]

"The hell do I do?" she whispered urgently. "I can't just walk up and tell him my situation!'"

[That would indeed be ill-advised.] The book agreed. [You need to consider what character type you want to be before approaching. First impressions are key in stories like this.]

Amy bit her lip, thinking fast. What role would give her the best chance to change things? Childhood friend? Too late for that. Mysterious transfer student with secret knowledge? Maybe, but risky. Rival? Hell no, people would hate her. Mentor? She would make a fool of herself. Comic relief?

[I suggest you start by making your introduction somehow. Before your opportunity walks out that door.]

Amy took a little more time before deciding. She had no time to prepare a good cover without plot holes, so the mysterious persona had to do…

As to how she would introduce herself… There was still something only she could take advantage of… knowledge of the future.

If she managed to fool the audience into thinking she was a seer, she would be able to get into S class rather easily, after all, they were extremely uncommon, if her memory serves her correctly, which honestly, was a dangerous gamble to take.

She took a deep breath, straightened her new clothes, ran a hand through her golden hair, and then took her first real step into the story she had once sworn to despise.