The sky was tinged with orange, birds chirped in harmony, and a gentle breeze swept through the grass and leaves, causing them to fall from the trees. The park on weekend afternoons was always lively—filled with teenagers spending their time having fun before returning to school, which most of them probably found boring. Among them were Milan and his friends, who were currently sitting on a park bench.
"Another new camera?" Benjamin asked Milan, who was busy capturing the atmosphere of the park.
"Yeah, it's a birthday present from my mom," Milan replied, without moving the camera away from his eye.
"Why do you like photography so much?" Andrew asked, holding a chocolate ice cream in his hand.
"I don't know. No particular reason—I just enjoy it."
"Well, take a picture of me and my cool outfit, bro," Benjamin said quickly, standing in front of Milan and striking a pose with his arms crossed. His expression was annoyingly smug.
"You're really ruining the view, Mr. Benjamin Robert," Milan said, making Andrew burst out laughing. Milan then stood up and walked away from the bench, wanting to explore and photograph other corners of the park.
Milan began taking photos from nearly every angle. Photography wasn't just a hobby for him—it was something he was truly passionate about. He owned a pretty impressive collection of cameras, most of which he had bought by saving up his weekly allowance from his parents.
Suddenly, a loud crash broke his focus. Milan ran toward the sound and saw an elderly man who had fallen beside his pushcart, which was now scattered with fruit.
"Are you alright, sir?" Milan asked as he helped the old man to his feet and picked up the scattered fruit.
"Are you insane? Why would you walk through the park like that? Of course you got hit by the ball," said a boy, picking up his ball near them. The old man had apparently fallen after being hit by a powerful kick.
"Watch your mouth, Mr. Timothy. Didn't anyone teach you how to speak respectfully to older people?" Milan said firmly.
"Don't try to act like a hero, Mr. Paterson. Your father's a criminal," Timothy sneered.
Laughter erupted nearby—it was William's friends. William Timothy, the boy now arguing with Milan, went to the same school as him. He was known for being arrogant and often bullied those who couldn't defend themselves.
Milan clenched his fists, anger boiling inside him. His face turned red with fury.
Just as William turned to leave, Milan grabbed the back of his collar, stopping him.
"Apologize," Milan said, his voice tight with anger.
"For what? I didn't do anything wrong. It's his fault for walking in front of people playing ball."
William kept denying it, even though it was clearly his fault. It was clear that he shouldn't have been playing soccer in the park when there was a designated field for that.
"It's your fault. You're supposed to play soccer on the field, not in the park. Now go apologize to him."
William scoffed and roughly brushed Milan's hand off his collar.
"Fine. Sorry. Happy now?" he said with a scowl, then walked off.
"Are you hurt?" Milan asked, making sure.
The old man shook his head. "No, I'm alright. Thank you for helping me."
"My pleasure," Milan said with a smile. Just as he was about to walk away, the old man called out.
"Hey, wait a second!"
"Yes, sir?"
"What's your name?"
"Milan Paterson."
The elderly man reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out a red book. The pages looked worn and yellowed with age, and a small gemstone was embedded in the center of the cover. It looked like a classic antique book, yet it was still in excellent condition.
"This is for me?" Milan asked. The old man simply nodded, not saying a word, and pushed his cart away.
"Thank you!" Milan called out a little louder, hoping the old man could hear him. He had forgotten to say it earlier, too mesmerized by the book to realize the old man was already leaving.
Milan returned to where Benjamin and Andrew were still goofing around. He called them to head home, as the sky was starting to grow darker.
***
Evening had fallen. Milan had just finished freshening up, and he was now drying his damp hair with a small white towel.
Once his hair was half-dry, he walked over to his study desk, intending to finish some school assignments. But something caught his eye and made him stop — the book the old man had given him that afternoon.
Milan picked up the book, gently brushing his fingers over the cover before opening its pages. But he was puzzled. Inside, the book contained only ten short sentences, each on a separate page.
Curious, Milan began reading the sentences one by one.
"save the village from the dragon"
"stop the ritual of darkness"
Milan didn't understand the sentences at all. Only ten pages were filled—everything else was completely blank. He thought, maybe the old man had written them based on random thoughts or daydreams when he was bored.
As Milan closed the book, the gemstone on the cover suddenly began to glow. He was just about to grab one of his schoolbooks, but instead, his attention returned to the mysterious old book. He opened it again. To his shock, the pages began to shine, and suddenly, a force started pulling him in—right into the book.
Milan blinked, looking around in confusion. Strange, old buildings surrounded him—unlike anything he'd ever seen before. People walked past, looking drained and lifeless, as if they had no energy left. He had no idea where he was. Why did everything look so eerie? A thousand questions raced through his mind. He couldn't believe what was happening.
"They look that way because this city was just visited by a dark sorcerer."
A sudden voice startled Milan. He turned around and saw a girl with long hair, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt layered with a brown jacket. She walked up to him as he stood there, looking even more confused.
"Hi, I'm Esther. You look a little lost."
"Yeah, of course. What is this place? I was just reading a book and suddenly my body—"
"Oh, so you're the one Theodore sent this time."
Milan looked even more confused. "Theodore? Who's that?"
"The one who gave you the book, right?"
"That was just an old man."
"That old man? Just a disguise."
Milan's jaw dropped. A disguise? Was the old man actually a young guy wearing some kind of mask to look older? But why? Why would anyone want to pretend to be old when most people wish they could stay young?
"You don't need to be afraid," Esther said. "You're just going on a little adventure to complete a mildly challenging mission—and I'll be your guide."
"Challenging? What do you mean? I just want to go back home."
"You're about to explore a fantastic world," she said. "You'll meet and fight villains, monsters, strange creatures, and all sorts of wild things."
Hearing that, Milan shuddered. Esther laughed.
"Kidding—well, kind of," she said with a grin. Then she grabbed Milan's hand and started walking, pulling him away from where they had been talking.
"Hey, where are you taking me?" he asked, startled.
"Come on. You don't know how to use magic yet, do you? I'll show you."
"Don't be ridiculous. What is this—some kind of magic movie?" Milan replied, skeptical.
Esther gave a faint smile. She led Milan to an old building that stood in the middle of a wide, empty field. The building looked like something straight out of a fantasy movie—one of those Milan had only glimpsed when his younger sibling watched TV at home. It was small in size, surrounded by green grass, trees, and colorful flowers.
"I saw a really big building on the way here," Milan said. "What is that place?"
"Oh, that's the magic school," Esther replied. "By the way, what's your name?"
"Milan Paterson. I don't get it—magic school? You mean they actually know magic? Like, real powers?" Milan asked. Honestly, he had a thousand questions racing through his head, starting with how he even ended up inside a book.
"Yes, it's real. This isn't a movie," Esther said, then gave a small flick of her wand. A fallen flower gently lifted off the ground and floated into her hand. She handed it to Milan.
"That's an example."
Milan's jaw dropped. He stared at the flower in his hand, then slapped himself lightly on the cheek. Esther burst out laughing.
"This isn't a dream, Mr. Paterson."
"Wow, brilliant. How did you do that?"
"Simple. You can do it too," Esther said.
Milan frowned. What was this girl talking about? That was impossible—he was just an ordinary guy.
"There's a wand in the inside pocket of your jacket. Take it out—I'm going to teach you."
Milan immediately reached into the pocket inside his jacket. He was shocked to find a wand—one he had no idea where it came from. He was sure he didn't have a wand like this earlier; he had arrived empty-handed.
Milan stared at the wand for a long time, not noticing that Esther had just entered the nearby building. She stumbled in, carrying a stack of books. She placed the books on the table near Milan, the loud thud startling him.
"You can go ahead and read the spells in these books. If you want to learn more about magic, there are plenty of others inside."
"But you said you were going to teach me. Why am I being told to read on my own?"
"You handle the reading—I need to recharge. That banana bread's my top priority right now."
"Wow… I did it!"