A World of Magic and Science

Part 1

The clock on the mantle chimed softly. 11:20 AM. He frowned, realizing he'd been asleep for nearly two hours. That dream—was it a memory? He shook his head. Dreams about being a dashing cavalry captain could wait. Right now, his stomach growled loudly, reminding him of another pressing issue: food.

"Right," Philip muttered, standing and patting his midsection. "Guess this belly needs its fuel." He rubbed his eyes and winced. The realization struck—he hadn't eaten since fainting in the foyer.

Before he could delve into further self-pity, a soft knock sounded at the door. "Enter," he called, assuming it was Lydia with another lecture about his health.

The door creaked open to reveal Lydia, ever composed, accompanied by a young servant girl likely no older than sixteen. She was petite, her frame almost swallowed by the oversized apron tied around her plain but neatly pressed uniform. Her posture was demure—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes cast downward—and she clutched the handle of a food cart as though it might bolt away.

"We brought your meal, Master Philip," Lydia announced with her usual efficiency, striding in and motioning for the girl to follow. "Freshly prepared from the finest remaining ingredients." Her tone softened slightly. "Though, regrettably, without wine."

"No wine?" Philip blinked, both relieved and bemused.

Lydia offered an apologetic smile that barely hid her habitual sternness. "Given your recent fainting episode, I thought it prudent to avoid alcohol. Also," she added with a pointed look, "our financial situation hardly allows for indulgences."

Philip opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the arrival of the cart. It carried an impressive array of dishes: a steaming tureen of chicken soup, a golden-crusted meat pie, fresh bread rolls, and a selection of cheeses. The faint aroma of herbs and butter filled the air, making his mouth water.

"Wow," he muttered, leaning closer. "This is… actually amazing."

The servant girl blushed furiously, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor as if making eye contact might turn her to stone. "T-thank you, Master," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. The strain of keeping her balance as she pushed the heavy cart into position made her arms tremble slightly.

Feeling awkward under such formal treatment, Philip waved a hand. "No need to stand there while I eat. I'm, uh, quite capable of serving myself."

Lydia raised an eyebrow but nodded knowingly. "Understandable. You're still adjusting." She gestured for the servant girl to step back, who nearly tripped in her haste to obey. "Come along, Marie," Lydia said, ushering her out. She paused at the door. "If you need anything, ring the bell."

Philip gave a faint smile. "Thanks, Lydia. I think I'll manage."

Once the door clicked shut, he settled into the meal, savoring the first bite of the meat pie. The buttery crust melted on his tongue, and for a brief moment, he felt almost… at peace.

Then, the room shimmered faintly. A familiar presence materialized by the desk, and Philip nearly choked on his bread.

Standing there was the System—but not in her usual bunny form. Instead, she wore a maid's uniform: a scandalously short, tight black dress with a crisp white apron tied around her voluptuous figure. Her hair, now a radiant blonde, framed her strikingly symmetrical face, and her large blue eyes twinkled mischievously.

Philip stared, his fork frozen midair. "Who the—what the—?"

"Surprise!" she sang, curtsying theatrically. "Do you like it? I thought I'd try blonde this time."

"Blonde?" His brain scrambled to catch up. "Wait a minute—you're the System?"

She nodded cheerfully. "Yep! Same me, just in maid form. I don't have a fixed form, you know. I can be anything. A blonde, a brunette, or even Tara if you'd like—"

At the mention of Tara, Philip froze. A wave of emotions surged through him—longing, sadness, and a sharp sting of anger. His appetite evaporated. He set his fork down carefully, his hands trembling slightly.

The System's grin faltered as she noticed his change in expression. "Oh," she said softly, her tone laced with regret. "I went too far, didn't I? I'm sorry. That was thoughtless."

Philip exhaled slowly, forcing a weak smile. "It's fine. Just… don't joke about that."

She nodded solemnly. "Understood."

After a beat of silence, she stepped forward and extended her arms as if to hug him. "Here, let me make it up to you with a comforting embrace—"

Her hands passed right through him, the sensation like a faint tingle. She blinked, then laughed sheepishly. "Oops. Forgot I can't actually touch you."

Philip couldn't help but chuckle at her absurdity. "It's the thought that counts, I guess."

"Exactly!" She placed her hands on her hips, striking a mock-confident pose. "I will provide the emotional support while Natalia provides the physical." She winked.

He shook his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks. Honestly, it's nice to have someone who cares."

Her expression softened. "It's the least I can do, Host. I know how lonely you've been."

He looked down, the faint smile fading. Memories of Bortinto resurfaced—nights spent staring at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, the constant hum of the city outside doing little to drown out the emptiness. After his parents' passing, he had relied on friends for emotional support. But over time, they drifted away, consumed by their own lives and the business of Bortinto. Later, Tara and his career had been the pillars of his existence, but he lost both to the harshness of reality in the same day.

"The constantly rising living costs," he murmured, half to himself. "The endless grind… There's no room for people like me in a metropolis like Bortinto."

The System crouched beside him, her blue eyes unusually gentle. "You're not alone anymore," she said softly. "I'm here. And Natalia, Lydia, Albert—they're here, too. You've got a whole lot of people who care about you, Philip."

He gave her a small, grateful nod, feeling a warmth he hadn't felt in years. "Thanks. It means a lot."

The System grinned, her mischievous spark returning. "Now, finish that pie before it gets cold. You'll need your fuel for the lecture that's coming."

Philip groaned but reached for his fork. "Lecture? What lecture?"

"Hmm… let's just say lessons." She waggled a finger in the air. "You've got a signing ceremony soon with Lady Rosetta in downtown Yortinto, and the press will be there. You're something of a… minor celebrity in Yorgoria. They'll want interviews, photos, the works."

He nearly dropped his fork. "Media coverage? Interviews? Are we sure they still care about me after… this?" He gestured down at his plump frame in exasperation.

She let out a delighted snort. "You might be broke and somewhat out of shape, but you're also the grandson of a Duke from Avalondia."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a lopsided grin. "So, I need to meaninglessly take over old Philip's entire life, business ventures, and social etiquette while hoping no one notices how clueless I am?"

"Exactly," she chimed. "So, after you eat, I'll give you a quick crash course on the background of this world and your own backstory so you can fake it until you make it."

Shaking his head, Philip forced the last bite of pie into his mouth. Despite the swirl of uncertainty, he felt an odd sense of reassurance. Yes, the estate was broke. Yes, he was about to waltz into a media circus with half his past missing. But at least he wasn't alone.

Part 2

Philip pushed his empty plate away, trying not to dwell on how quickly he had devoured that meat pie. At least I won't be passing out again anytime soon, he thought, rubbing his belly with a mix of guilt and relief.

Right on cue, golden sparkles swept across the study, and the System appeared by the tall window—this time dressed like a scandalous private tutor plucked from a daydream. Her white blouse strained at every seam, and the snug pencil skirt did absolutely nothing to hide her curves.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you time your entrances by my meal schedule, or do you just enjoy catching me off guard?"

She teased him with a playful smile. "Why not both? Besides, I wanted to seize you while you're still awake and fed. Nothing kills focus faster than hunger."

"I have a feeling your outfit is what's going to kill my focus," he muttered, glancing sideways.

"I am sure it's going to draw your focus," she sang, conjuring a slim pointer out of thin air and tapping it against an invisible board. "Ready for your crash course? Because, dear Host, if you walk into that signing ceremony clueless about this world's basics, you would be farther from the mission of proving your sanity."

He grimaced. "Good point."

"Exactly," she said brightly. "Now, hush and listen."

With another flick of her hand, the System summoned a vast holographic map that covered almost the entire wall—translucent enough for Philip to spot his shelves and desk behind the glowing landmasses.

"This," she explained, "is our current world—also called Earth. Notice anything… familiar?"

Leaning in, Philip studied the landmasses. They strongly resembled the Earth he knew—Africa, Eurasia, the Americas—yet each region bore unusual borders and oddly spelled country names. "It's practically my world's natural landscape," he said, puzzling over the labels. "But hold on, the year in my old world was 2024. And based on the date displayed on the map… it's 2024 here, too?"

"There you go, smart boy!" The System rapped the pointer on the glowing map, sending little sparkles flying off. "Except, while your world galloped through the 20th century riding on physics—relativity, quantum mechanics, nuclear reactions—this one discovered magic around a hundred and twenty years ago. Let's just say it completely changed the trajectory of technological advancement."

"So," he murmured, recalling how everything looked vaguely 19th-century—lamps, streetcars, ball gowns, cavalry uniforms. "I am not in some 19th century fantasy realm. They just haven't updated their style."

She nodded. "Exactly. In your old Earth's timeline, you had an industrial revolution, then radio, computers, the internet, artificial intelligence. Here, they had a 'magical revolution.' All the big breakthroughs of the 20th century—medicine, communications, weapons of mass destruction—run on magical principles and on mana. So yes, the architecture and fashion and even social customs look about a century behind, yet the world is in many ways as advanced as your Earth's 2024—just through different mechanics. In other words, don't expect to accumulate massive amount of wealth through merely replicating the actions of early 20th century tycoons from your world."

He let out a low whistle. "So, do people here video-call each other through… mana crystals or something?"

"Close," the System grinned. "Long-distance, real-time communication is all done by so-called 'mirror phones,' similar to that talking mirror in your Snow White fairy tale. No satellites in orbit. For entertainment, they use 'recording crystals' and 'display mirrors.' Basically, most modern conveniences you enjoyed exist here, but run on different principles—and are limited to the rich and powerful. The general population still lives in the 19th century."

He shuddered, recalling the inequality back home. "I guess inequality is a bane everywhere."

"Unfortunately," she said, "limited resources faced with unlimited greed. Now, let's talk geography."

She pointed to an island on the map. "Here is Avalondia, the tiny homeland of the giant Avalondian Empire. It's also where your grandfather resides and participates in the upper house of the Empire's Imperial Parliament as a duke. He's famous and loaded. But unfortunately," she added with a wry smile, "he's not you."

Philip stifled a laugh. "Good point—separate entity assumption."

Then the System indicated a medium-sized nation on the European continent. "This is the Osgoreich Imperium, the homeland of your predecessor's dear love, Lady Rosetta. Her maternal grandfather is a prince of the Imperium, a member of its upper house, and also the executive head of his own principality. Unlike your grandfather's mostly ceremonial influence, Rosetta's family governs a fief within the Imperium and coordinated the modernization effort of Osgoreich's navy decades ago, cementing deep connections with its military. Hence, they hold real power, while your family is more about prestige."

Philip recalled the dreamlike memory of dancing with Rosetta in a lavish ballroom, how she cut through the crowd like an icebreaker ship. "She definitely appeared powerful and feared."

"Bingo," the System affirmed. "Her family is a member of the ancient aristocracy. But her father married into her mother's family, so that's a blemish she's very sensitive about. Had she not been the only living grandchild of the Prince of Woterbatch, she would not have been in line to inherit the princely title. Meanwhile, your lineage only goes back to your grandfather's ennoblement. However, because the Avalondian Empire is so vast and reputed, an Avalondian ducal house is seen as more 'prestigious' globally than an Osgoreich princely house."

Philip's eyes widened. "That's pretty ironic. I always thought a prince outranked a duke. Anyway, how did the old Philip manage to snag Rosetta's interest?"

The System chuckled. "It's one of those arranged marriages. Your fathers were university friends, both studied at the Imperial University of Avalondia. They became best friends. One drunken night, they vowed to unite their families through their newborn babies. Then they got on with their lives… and died. But years later, when Rosetta fell in love with you at a banquet, she was all stressed out about what to do. Then her governess told her about the event and presented her with the marriage proposal both men signed when they were drunk. So, she intentionally leaked the news to the media, and the two houses had to honor it to maintain their pristine image. Noble families care greatly about public image."

"What a lady…" Philip commented with lingering awe.

"Indeed. Though a few years later, she ended the engagement on the accusation that you were a womanizer," the System teased, leaning closer until Philip could practically feel her breath on his ear. "But the true reason? That's your homework, my dear student. I can't spill every juicy secret—cosmic privacy laws, you know."

Philip rolled his eyes. "Cosmic privacy. Right. Anyway, I just realized that the borders seem eerily similar my Earth's political borders at the turn of the twentieth century. Shouldn't technological progress have shaken things up—socially and geopolitically?"

She answered with a lazy shrug. "First, the nations here differ hugely from the ones you know, so even if technology did spark changes, it wouldn't produce a world identical to yours. Second, as the big powers channeled their energy into mana research, they ended up creating 'Realm Guardians,' which were artificial entities with incredible destructive powers, able to wipe out entire cities in the blink of an eye. So, they're basically this world's version of nukes or advanced AIs. Once those entities were on the table, mutual assurance of destruction in case of total war kept everyone on their toes. Ta-da—political stalemate. Plus, the magical tech remained pretty much exclusive to the rich, so the masses never got to experience it."

"I see, so equity traded for stability. I guess everywhere it's the same, then. So, do Avalondia and Osgoreich both have these Guardians?" Philip asked, lifting a brow.

"Osgoreich doesn't," she replied matter-of-factly. "They were late to the big magical arms race, too busy focusing on further advancing their industrial lead. By the time they decided to join the 'Guardian' club, the seven nations with Realm Guardians had signed an antiproliferation pact. Poof—no more conjuring super powerful sentient beings. Any facilities built for that purpose had to be destroyed and the intel sealed away. Summoning anything sentient is now forbidden. And so poor Osgoreich got stuck forever as a 'rising power' but never managed to reach the top. Avalondia, however, does have a Realm Guardian. In fact, an incident with the Realm Guardian is a major factor behind your grandfather's total disappointment in you."

Philip frowned. "What incident?"

She gave him a wicked grin, then traced a finger down his arm. "Let's just say you made a total fool of yourself at an imperial banquet. A banquet that was livestreamed, by the way, so the entire world got front-row seats. Everyone within the Avalondian Empire was shaking in terror for fifteen excruciating minutes, worried the palace—and all the elites in attendance—would go boom at any second. If your grandfather had any other direct heirs, you'd have been booted from the family faster than you can say, 'Oops.'"

His face paled. "What did I do, exactly?"

"You showed up drunk," she announced gleefully, tapping her pointer against her hand, "and instead of paying proper homage to the Empress, you kissed her hand—repeatedly for fifteen whole minutes—while declaring your undying love for her… and calling her 'Rosetta' the entire time."

Philip's jaw dropped. "Wait, that's too insane! And embarrassingly tacky! On camera?! Thank God I can't remember a thing."

"Right?" The System winked at him. "Thank the cosmos your grandpa was a workaholic who didn't spare time for more procreation. Otherwise, your heir status would have been toast."

One corner of Philip's mouth twitched. "Yeah… but I still don't get what this fiasco has to do with Avalondia's Realm Guardian."

"Because, my dear brave boy, the Empress," she paused for dramatic effect, "is the Realm Guardian of the Avalondian Empire."