Cliché Diary Mob Isekai

"Hmm, how much are you asking for this?" Gregor asked the seller. An old man would give dried prunes a run for their money with his wrinkles, with his giant ears, equally large and crooked nose, and clouded eyes. Gregor instantly regretted wanting to negotiate.

"Just two silver pieces." The old man smiled, his lips looking like a leather that is about to fall apart. His eyes stayed on the book as he awaited a response.

'Two silver? That's expensive… But not that expensive I suppose.' Gregor felt the binding with his hands. Some sort of leather that had seen better days; the entire reason why Gregor was drawn to it in the first place. Pages themselves were made of paper, maybe the old man tried to repair an otherwise ruined notebook with whatever he had, possibly with his last bit of money, looking at the old man's tattered clothes.

"That's a bit too cheap." Gregor said while taking out four coins from his storage through space magic. The old man's eyes followed Gregor's hands, took a brief glance at the coins, then stared at Gregor's eyes. The latter smiled and used space magic to store the book.

"I hope it will bring good luck, young lord." The old man's smile was no more, and he made a praying gesture with his black stained hands.

"Peace of the Lady upon you." Gregor answered with the typical religious phrase, then walked away, unaware of the stare the old man was giving him from behind.

'Fuck, I ended up spending 4 silver instead of 1…' Gregor complained inwardly. 'I still have 56, should be enough for a few months…' He counted and recounted the silver coins in his storage space, as if he was checking if they were still qualified to be legal tender.

He was quite thankful that he could use space magic. Not the first power he would ask for an isekai life, but it was certainly up there. Such ability, he was especially thankful for today, as he did not trust himself with a coin purse while shopping in alley markets. The sprawling narrow streets, filled with people of all species, walking, talking, negotiating with hawkers, Gregor honestly wondered how they did it. How could they avoid pickpockets long enough to actually buy something?

The crowd eventually disappeared as the color of the stone pavement lightened up. Then a plaza came into view, and another type of crowd with it. Tall, elegant, purposeful, a group dozen passed by, all with long ears that one would expect from an isekai. The golden lines within their snow white clothings shined with the afternoon light, an insignia of a persimmon tree displayed proudly.

Gregor realized he almost whistled from surprise. 'Capital is really different.' He shook his head. The servants of a ducal family passed through, just like that. 'I'm really a country bumpkin huh.' The thought made him smile.

Gregor moved north through the edges of the plaza, followed the royal street that led to the palace, then turned left midway, to the road filled with hazel trees on the sides. A few days ago he almost ignored the directions and went to the royal palace instead. The reason being the hazel trees. Though larger than what he had seen in the territory of his family, they were still hazel trees. Not the most magical of plants, to Gregor's reckoning. But the thought of accidentally ending up at the entrance of the royal palace was far more nerve wracking than taking a wrong turn, so he had followed the path.

A hundred rows, maybe more, Gregor didn't count the trees, but the magic academy was unreasonably far, at least by leg travel. Almost an hour late, he saw those same black gates, displaying the name that was disappointingly uninspired.

"Magic Academy." Gregor read the name and almost sighed out of frustration. 'I get that the academy was a small arc, but really? You didn't even name it? Author-san?'

The gates and the walls became bigger and bigger, revealing the thin magic symbols running within the silver pickets. No such detail was in the novel, not to Gregor's recollection anyway, but here, the cacophony of colors within the magic lines gave them a dangerous air.

'All that work, just for getting named Magic Academy? Fucking hell man…' Gregor sighed, deeply, for he could not understand. Was the world real, and people in it chose their own fates? Or was this just a fantasy of an author trying to make a living?

"Gregor von Rad." The older ad more muscular guardsmen spoke, not breaking eye contact even for a moment.

"Yes, I have returned after buying necessities." Gregor responded.

The other guardsmen that Gregor hadn't seen before glanced at the older one, surprise in his eyes was evident. Even the older one had reacted the same way this morning, so Gregor wasn't surprised.

A noble buying his own things? 'Well my family may be Viscounts but there's not much money in farming.' Gregor made his way into the nobles dormitory. A building adorned with four insignias, representing the four big noble families of the empire, representing the nobility itself as they called it. Persimmon tree was accompanied by a raven, lightning, and a snowflake.

The last one, it took Gregor some time to learn how to suppress his laughter when looking it. The symbol of the Icewind family fit their heir perfectly. It was a detail that Gregor had missed while reading the novel. Much of the details were lost in the 16 years after his reincarnation, though the broad-strokes, he still remembered them.

Gregor's footsteps echoed on the crimson marble floor, strong and rhythmic, only because he was too afraid to slip and fall; the floor was polished enough to see his own facial features. Giant columns, reliefs of fighting soldiers, statues and portraits of nobles throughout the history of the empire separated rooms, making Gregor feel like he was visiting a museum instead. Slowly but surely, he passed great many doors as the amount of decorations decreased, and the space between the rooms along with them. Upon reaching his own room, blue light shone from Gregor's hand, letting the door open. He immediately removed his shoes, put them in his storage space, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"What the fuck is wrong with these nobles…" Gregor muttered, sinking his toes deep into the carpet, enjoying the sensation his feet having enough grip. "Haaa… No choice but to get used to that noble style walk." Though it was his third day, Gregor was convinced; the academy was the source of his mother's elegant walking style. Spending four years must have taken its toll, and irreversibly altered her.

Gregor took off his jacket, shirt, even pants, swapped them with his extra comfortable pajamas inside his storage space. "The cotton in this isekai feels so much better…" The soft touch of fabric caused him to momentarily close his eyes. Then he jumped on his bed, not even minding it was the dinner time. His storage space had enough food and water to last him a lifetime anyway, and he didn't like interacting with other nobles. Especially noble teenagers.

"… Hmm, yeah, I should make that a diary." Gregor took out the notebook he bought. The leather binding was exceedingly simple, not a letter or symbol on sight. It was patched over and over again from what he could see, and that was its only uniqueness, if one could call it that.

He adjusted his body then took out a quill and ink set, with carvings of the crescent moon on both, a gift from his father. Gregor browsed the empty pages as he thought how he should begin. He had never written a diary before, even after he realized he had reincarnated. One, he didn't know how to write the script of the world when he was young, and in a world of magic, suddenly writing pages of cryptic symbols from a five year old would've surely frightened his parents. And two, even if they were poor, they were still nobles, which meant that they had servants; writing notes even after learning the common script was ill advised. Such problems were solved after Gregor learned space magic, but by then he had already memorized what he could anyway.

But now, it was different. He was going to enter the "Magic Academy" arc with the main cast. And he already had a personal storage dimension that no one could access.

Gregor turned the very first page. Maybe it was a distant memory from his previous life, but he felt compelled to write his own name. No one was going to see it anyway, so he dipped the quill.

* * *

Somewhere else in the noble dormitory, inside one of the rooms in the east wing, a young woman named was staring at the documents piled up on her table, holding a wax seal with snowflake emblem.

"My lady, where would you like to dine?" An older woman asked, bowing respectfully. Not a single wrinkle could be seen on her black uniform.

The young lady, Catherine, glanced at her servant. "Bring it here." She gestured at the coffee table beside her, also filled with scrolls, documents, and books.

"As you wish my lady." The servant bowed deeper, then walked out of the study, being careful of each step to avoid making the slightest of sounds.

Catherine read her letter once more. There wasn't a single mistake, but she wasn't looking for one. Her eyes somehow landed on the fireplace, opposite and of the study. Should she burn the letter? Or should she apply her seal on it and be done with it? Catherine (very, very lightly) threw the seal, listened it make harsh clattering sounds from metal hitting stone floor, the low thunk when it stopped after hitting a stack of magic tomes.

Just as she was about to light the fireplace with a snap of her fingers, she the sound of a quill dragging across paper. Short strokes, a small break, followed by two more times each. Catherine frowned, her eyes sought the source of this sound in an otherwise perfectly still study. Her eyes were somehow drawn to an old book, decrepit, unfit for a ducal lady in all aspects. At the time, when she had suddenly gained enlightenment over a magic spell, it was the only blank notebook within her immediate grasp.

Now she could see the leather bound notebook gently sway along with the noise, almost as if someone was writing in it.

Catherine's frown grew deeper as she grabbed the notebook. The vibrations within truly felt as if someone was writing. She opened it, ran her hand through the paper, to get a feel of what was happening. A sharp sound with more pressure then she felt before, as if someone outlined something, Catherine realized what she was looking for was at the beginning. She flipped the pages, and there…

"Gregor von Rad." Catherine read the name out loud. Her ideas were erased, not even pressure marks from her quill were left. Hesitantly, she flipped to the second page. The writing was lacking elegance, lines and arches had mechanical qualities to them. No artistry, no sense of aesthetics, complete disregard for even the most basic rules of calligraphy. And yet, the page was filling in front of her very eyes.

Catherine tried to sense magic -any magic- from the notebook. The leather binding was patched many times, but she noticed the sheets inside were new, resilient against ink and strong against tears; a recent product that wasn't even four years old. If the magic was contained inside the notebook, it was within the leather layers. Catherine was tempted to tear everything apart to investigate, to satiate her curiosity, but a strange feeling held her hand back. She opened the now full second page once again, ignoring the scratching sounds of the low quality quill. And she started reading.

"September 28th. The day before the beginning.

"Hmm. I actually realized I've never written a diary before in my previous life either. Should I just write what I know of the novel? Well, I suppose I've already written this part, and it is a waste to just rip a page after paying four silver for this entire thing."

Catherine's frown disappeared. This… wasn't what she expected.

"Alright, the novel. I actually don't remember its name; one of those long ones with multiple sentences. A story about a boy with vague memories of his (obviously Japanese) previous life, receiving the Holy Sword and becoming the hero. Pretty bog standard, nothing to write home about.

"After all these years of living in this world, I still regret not reading its ending. The novel wasn't anything popular, the writing wasn't great, the translation was meh, and the story was uninspired. But if I knew I would get reincarnated in it, I would've memorized the entire fucking thing! It wasn't even the last thing I read for fucks sake! Just a random novel that I almost forgot about!

"Ugh, thinking about it makes me irrationally angry sometimes. But I live again, so I can't complain. The alternative is nothingness.

The word "nothingness" was underlined. Catherine closed the cover and traced her hand on the leather for a long moment. The scrabbling sensation stopped at the same time, when she looked ahead she saw the writing had also stopped, the book had become perfectly still. Though she was uninterested in pranks, she still decided to humor this attempt. On the side, a huge tray full of porcelain tableware clanked as her servant put it down.

"Tomorrow should be the first day. I can still remember most of the important bits, but writing should prove useful, if nothing for confirmation.

"First. Catherine."

Catherine frowned once again, though far deeper this time.

"Catherine the Snowflake. She is going to be the harem member #1. The least popular heroine I would imagine, if anyone had bothered to make a poll. Self absorbed, uninteresting, and unemotional. Truly, the Kuuest of Kuuderes that ever dere'd."

Catherine's grip on the leather bind tightened significantly, though strangely enough, her strength had no effect.

"Well, it's not like she doesn't have the skill to back it up. Not only she has the typical 'Gorilla' strength, but she is also incredibly talented in ice magic. I'm not sure if those elements are going to be preserved here; this is a real, breathing world after all. But then again, the magic academy is literally named as "Magic Academy," so she should be a Gorilla Archmage in the making, all things considered."

Catherine's grip tightened before relaxing to the point of almost dropping the notebook itself.

What did Gorilla strength meant? At first Catherine thought it was an insult, but it also hinted at something that very few people knew about. The fact that she was blessed with incredible physical abilities, and could even fight a full fledged knight with nothing but bare hands. That immense physical strength of hers was nothing short of a family secret. A ducal family secret. She continued reading with bated breath.

"The protagonist, Lloyd von Valentine, first and only son of a Baron, will accidentally crash into Catherine. Then he will become mesmerized by her silver hair first, deep blue eyes later. He might also blush, but I don't know if I remember that, or if I think I remember that.

"It's been 16 years, and honestly I doubt I'd remember that much even if someone asked me the next day after reading the chapter.

"Catherine's response will be simple. She will not respond. She is the snowflake after all. The most special snowflake to ever exist. At least in her mind.

"Now that I think about it, I've been living here for 16 years, but I never met a character from the novel. I mean, I'm a background character myself, probably one of those listening to the peanut gallery, if even that. I am a person, with my own thoughts and dreams, so what about the novel's cast?

"I wonder. I wonder if Catherine -real Catherine- will be as annoying and insufferable as the novel character. Thinking about it really makes me curious, but I'm just a second son of a Viscount; her followers might cut me down if I even try to sneak a peek at her.

"…

"I guess I could find out in the banquet. I forgot when that was exactly, but it was pretty early on.

"I kinda wish I could warn her against that fiancé though, but what are the odds of anyone believing me? Who would believe if a second son of a Viscount known for farming, claim that Marquis Morgan's first son is actually a devil worshipper, AND a rapist piece of shit? I would be practically committing suicide even if I try to inform her anonymously.

"This world can be really cruel sometimes."

That was the last sentence; the rest of the notebook was empty; her theories were fully erased.

Catherine sat down on the couch as if she collapsed. The smell of fresh produce, meat, and even wine, did not register in her mind. All she could think of was the word devil. Her soon-to-be fiancé, was a devil worshipper? A rapist? Catherine only noticed he threw that damned notebook by the thunk from leather hitting the wall, small and sharp cracking sounds from the fractured wall, and the deep boom from the notebook landing on the floor.

The letter, her eyes frantically searched for the letter. Writing those words seemed befitting of her rank, her stature, her dignity as a noble. Were those her thoughts, or something she gathered from interacting with other nobility; Catherine often wondered that in the last few days. Whether the notebook was a prank, or a ploy, Catherine realized she couldn't bring herself to care. Those brusque words written with dull lines, seemed to have disrupted her normal way of thinking, bringing forward the untold desires and hopes underneath.

Catherine knew she could not burn the letter. Not any longer.

* * *

As consciousness returned to Gregor, he thought he was on top of clouds. His body was almost swallowed by the indescribable softness. How was he not falling to the ground? His body had weight, even his hair should've passed through the mist! Gregor threw his arm the the other side, the motion caused him to open his eyes in panic; what if he fell through? He needed his wits about to use space magic!

"…" The sight of the pure white canopy, finally woke up Gregor from his stupor. 'Right, I'm in the "Magic Academy," how could I forget?' Gregor silently admonished himself.

Shadows in his suite were already growing short, though this didn't mean anything, since the entrance ceremony was in the afternoon anyway. "I didn't think I would oversleep this much though…" Gregor looked around the room, his eyes finally landed on the absurdly comfortable bed. Even moving his head around sent ripples across, causing his body to pleasantly settle and burrow. The bed wasn't made of water, nor something like down.

"Magic." Gregor raised an eyebrow. Either the material itself had magical properties, or outright magic was added after. How else could he wake up almost at noon every day since he came here? The bed could even impair Gregor's innate sense of time, a product of his efforts with the space magic.

Gregor grew up in farmlands in the every sense of the word. From barley, wheat, and rye, to figs, grapes, carrots, and cucumbers, Gregor planted, tended, harvested, and ate them all. The scent of citrus flowers, the stench of garlic fields, the wondrous feeling of watching a cabbage violently sprout, they were deeply ingrained, wholly unforgettable much like the smile of his mother, or the content gaze of his father, or the bright laughter of his big brother.

But magic?

Magic was an alien construct, not just Gregor, but for the whole Rad family. If it wasn't for Gregor's unusual and unsettlingly specific talent for space magic, the Rad family's magic capable member would've been their founder, Gregor's great-great-great-great-grandfather.

Gregor stood up, stretched his arms and legs, not just to wake himself up, but to improve his mana flow as well. The idea came from a book he bought with the money he earned, a book about magic, rather than a magic book or a grimoire. And it worked, probably. Gregor felt better every time he did it, and his space magic flowed easier, maybe. The entire sensation could be placebo, if Gregor had to be honest, but as long as he didn't find a way to disprove his assumption, he would continue his stretches, every morning and every night of every day.

The messy bed behind him caused a slight bit of headache for Gregor, but today too, he resisted to urge to tidy up himself. A noble, no matter how distant they are to the royal capital, should never do menial tasks, this was etiquette, the lifestyle of nobles. Not that it mattered for the Rad family, but here in the capital, Gregor couldn't act as he did at home. The mess stayed, making the bed even more attractive, causing Gregor's eyes to occasionally wander.

Gregor didn't even bother with going to the dining hall. In his storage space there were enough produce to last him multiple lifetimes, and he had enough iron pots, pans, skillets, ceramic plates, and silverware to decorate mansion. Why? Because they were cheap. And Gregor had the space, and the will to train his space magic. Why not put something useful in, instead of rocks and boulders like he used to as a kid?

Piping hard eggs, sourdough bread just out of the oven, sliced cucumbers, goat cheese, green olives, and an entire wooden board stacked with variety of cured meats, filled the empty study desk. Cooking wasn't possible in the dorms, even though Gregor had the equipment in his storage, but he could still have a feast of his own making.

Gregor made the mistake of trying out the capital's cuisine only once, the first day he arrived.

The various aromas of the south filled his quarters, to the dismay of the servants that cleaned up after him, unbeknownst to Gregor. The more time he spent away from home, the more he came to appreciate the miracle of space magic. The regret for not being able to use even the simplest magic like lighting a kindle, was all but gone. If he could learn more about his own space magic, that would be mission accomplished; well, at least the half of it.

"I should barbecue in the mountains tonight." Gregor murmured, imagining the setting sun, the sizzling cries of grilling meat, the irresistible lure of fat droplets burning on charcoal. The distance between the dorms and the closest mountain was just within the range of his ability, he could tell. Mana consumption would be a bit higher than usual, but he was in school anyway, why would he need to keep some reserves?