Forging an identity was much simpler than Qiluo Tian Gong had anticipated. It also gave her more of a pang of guilt than she had expected.
She spent a few days observing this world’s identification system.
Once again, she was at a bookstore. Bookstores were truly wonderful; even someone like me can just read books here. I really should suggest this back home and let those old fogeys implement some reforms.
This world was truly kind to a traveler like me.
Of course, she had switched to a different bookstore. She couldn’t keep plaguing the same one—wait, "plaguing" sounded a bit harsh.
Alright, let’s see what I need.
A resident record, a driver’s license, a health insurance card, and a My Number.
Mm-hm, it’s pretty much the same as back home.
“Alright,” Qiluo said, standing on the steps in front of the bookstore and taking a deep breath. “Then let Qiluo Tian Gong exist!”
She wasn’t going to forge physical documents. That was technical work requiring equipment, templates, and detailed knowledge of this world, and she wasn’t even sure how to use a printer here. But she knew another way.
She would modify the information itself.
The identification data in this world was ultimately stored in some kind of electronic medium. The physical devices these media relied on were, at their core, just a combination of metal, silicon chips, and electrical currents.
This sort of thing could be interfered with using magic!
I totally get it now!
In the dead of night, Qiluo squatted near the ward office, staring at the building. She looked like a suspicious character to anyone passing by. But that was fine! As long as she didn't feel awkward, no one else would.
Star-trail perched on her shoulder, its tail wrapped quietly around her neck, starlight particles glowing faintly in the darkness.
“Theoretically,” she whispered to Star-trail, “I don’t need to open that door. I just need to make a certain piece of data inside a certain machine look the way I want it to. It’s just like how I don’t need to open a book to read its contents with magic.”
Star-trail made a soft sound of agreement. The plan was perfect.
Qiluo pressed her hand against the outer wall of the ward office. The concrete was rough and cold. Through this wall, she could sense the flow of magic within the building.
She closed her eyes and let her perception follow the direction of the electrical currents. The orange-yellow rivers branched, merged, and branched again, flowing through the walls and surging into various devices. Each device presented a different texture to her senses.
It took Qiluo about forty minutes to find the correct data stream. A segment of data resonated with the character encoding corresponding to the syllables of "Tian Gong." This was a method she had devised herself: first, construct a magical image of the target information in her mind, then look for a physical medium that resonated with it.
What followed was actually quite simple. She gave that segment of data a gentle nudge with her magic, like tracing a new mark in the sand with a finger.
A sixteen-year-old girl’s identity file appeared silently in the ward office’s database. Qiluo Tian Gong, born on a certain day of a certain month. Her parents had moved overseas when she was young, and she had been registered as the adopted daughter of a certain elderly person living alone—an adoption that had naturally ended three years ago when the elderly person passed away.
She didn't create too many details. The more detailed it was, the easier it was to make a mistake. A child returning from overseas with parents still abroad—this background was enough to explain why she was unfamiliar with many things and provided a logical reason for her to enter a school.
“There.” Qiluo withdrew her hand and opened her eyes. The magic consumption was higher than she had expected, and a thin layer of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Star-trail used the tip of its tail to wipe away the sweat, the starlight particles leaving behind a trace of coolness. “Qiluo Tian Gong officially exists in this world from this moment on.”
Next was a place to live.
The apartment she chose was a three-story old building, its white exterior paint having faded to gray over the years.
The landlady was a very kind old woman. After Qiluo explained her situation, she sympathetically agreed to let her move in first.
As for the rent, she could pay it back after she found a part-time job.
After all, how could such a cute girl be a bad person?
People in this other world are so kindhearted!
Though the old woman seemed to think I was a runaway child.
Her room was at the very end of the third floor, with a rusty padlock hanging on the door. It took Qiluo three hours and two magic crystals to turn the long-vacant room into a barely habitable state.
The room wasn't large. The entrance was a kitchen area so small you’d hit the wall if you turned around. Beyond that was a six-tatami Japanese-style room, with a window facing the side of the apartment building. Looking out, one could see the wall of the neighboring building and a sliver of the sky. There was no furniture and no curtains. There was a dark stain on the tatami, left from who knows when.
Qiluo did everything she could with magic. A cleaning spell cleared the dust from the tatami and the walls. A warming array was carved into the wooden frame on the inside of the window, so she at least wouldn’t freeze to death in winter. A small lamp powered by a magic crystal floated in the center of the ceiling, emitting a soft, warm glow.
Naturally, the magic was cast through Star-trail. It went smoothly, though the input process now had Star-trail acting as an intermediary for Qiluo.
The landlady had given her quite a few things.
A floor cushion that wasn't torn, just a bit faded; a low table with a slightly wobbly leg that could be fixed with a piece of paper; and several clean cardboard boxes to hold her as-yet-nonexistent belongings. The bedding was the hardest part to solve. Qiluo didn't want to sleep on old bedding, so she decided to just use her robe as a blanket.
On her first night, Qiluo lay on her robe under the warm yellow light of the small lamp. The distant roar of a passing train drifted in from outside the window. Star-trail curled up next to her pillow, its tail tucked over its nose, starlight particles flickering with the rhythm of its breathing.
“Not bad,” she said to the ceiling.
The ceiling didn't answer. But Star-trail’s tail reached out and rested gently on the back of her hand. Qiluo rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. The pillow smelled of a laundry detergent she didn't recognize—not like any spice from her original world. This was the scent of this world.
The next day, she visited Tachibana High School.
The school was larger than she had imagined. There was a white school building, a wide sports field, and a row of cherry blossom trees planted along the edge of the field. Since it was summer break, there were almost no students on campus, only members of sports clubs training on the field. A girl in a tracksuit ran past her, her steps light and her ponytail swaying from side to side.
Qiluo stood at the school gate, clutching the transfer record she had entered into the school system using the same method the day before. Theoretically, she was now a student in Class 1-A of Tachibana High School. But she still needed to physically appear at the school to make the identity of Qiluo Tian Gong truly visible.
Taking a deep breath, she walked through the school gates.
The process of handling the transfer procedures was smoother than she had expected, and more of a stomach-ache than she had anticipated. The teacher in the administrative office was a middle-aged woman with glasses named Ms. Tanabe. Ms. Tanabe flipped through the records on her computer, looked up at Qiluo, then back down at the records, her expression odd.
“Tiana-san, your file says you self-taught yourself Japanese while overseas?”
“Yes,” Qiluo replied with perfect pronunciation.
“Your pronunciation is very standard.”
“The language environment is very important,” Qiluo said without batting an eye.
Ms. Tanabe nodded, seemingly accepting the explanation. She tapped a few keys and printed out a stack of forms, handing them to Qiluo. In the space for the guardian’s signature, Qiluo signed the name of the adoptive grandfather she had registered in the database the day before—the man who had already been dead for three years.
When the tip of the pen touched the paper, her fingers stiffened for a moment, but she didn't stop.
Star-trail was hiding in her bag at the time, poking a small section of its tail through the gap in the zipper to rest against her back.
After the procedures were finished, Ms. Tanabe took her on a tour of the school.
Summer break would be over in a week. When that time came, this place would be crowded with students. And when that time came, she would officially become one of them.
“Since you’ve returned from abroad, if there’s anything you don’t understand, you can always ask me.” Ms. Tanabe stopped at the entrance of the school building and looked at her, her gaze behind her glasses warm and sincere. “Transferring isn't easy, especially for a child returning from overseas. Just take your time to adjust.”
“...Thank you.” This time, her voice was a little softer than before.
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