Insignificant Emily and the Intellectual Idiots

Chapter 2

Just to be clear, I’m a student at the Academy. I always think about the same thing when I’m in class. Actually, I think about this almost every morning when I wake up—transmigration.

The concept itself is pretty standard. Transmigration doesn’t happen in real life, but writers often like to begin a story with it. By now, it’s a standard theory that God just has people driving around in trucks, causing accidents, resulting in people from one world being sent into another. But I didn’t get transported here through an accident, which means this has to be unintentional. Either way, transmigration only happens in the world of fiction. If this actually happened to someone, it would be because they suffered an unexpected misfortune. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, right?

I wish that there were a god that I could demand answers from, but I’m convinced that there isn’t one. This world does have a religion that worships a god with a long, weird name, but who came up with that? What if their god doesn’t exist? It’s like Nietzsche said. What if God is already dead? If there is a god, they have a lot to answer for. Not that they have to, but that’s what I want. Maybe that’s a little crazy of me, but people tend to be selfish after being thrust into an extreme situation. Still, despite being in such a situation, I’m living quite comfortably in this new world.

Wait, scratch that—I’m studying in this new world.

Ugh, this is killing me!

At first, I didn’t think much of it. It was all right. As time passed, I started to question it.

Where did the owner of this body go?

I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t want to think about it. Another part of me wonders if this was my original body and if my previous life as the eldest daughter of the Kim family was nothing but a dream. That’s what the dream argument is about, right? Am I Emily? Or the Kim family’s eldest daughter? Human thought has its limits. If I did dream something like that, it would mean my subconsciousness possesses some genius-level intellect—which I know is not true. It’s sad, but it’s the truth.

Why is it the truth? I mean, I could be a genius.

“In truth, the calendar that we use across the continent isn’t entirely accurate. We follow a twelve-month, thirty-day calendar. Some days, such as festivals and year-end events, aren’t listed on some calendars. The actual date follows the 365 and 14-day quaternary calendar.”

I don’t get it. This is clear evidence that I’m not a genius.

“The shape of the sky is round—its circumference is 365 and 14 degrees. The sky rotates around the ground to the left once a day, then to an additional fourteen degrees. The sun hangs in the sky, so it’s a little slower. In other words, when the ground rotates, it’s a little less than about one degree. Some places used calendars, where 354 days made up a year. The extra days were collected and added at specific intervals throughout the years. Although it seems complicated now, this calendar system was brilliant and fairly common at the time. It used to be called the nineteen-year, seven-day cycle…”

In any case, as much as I tried my best to define what transmigration meant, I ultimately concluded that I was just a ghost who possessed Emily’s body.

Hang on.

If I can transmigrate across dimensions, I don’t have to stay in three-dimensional space, right? There could be 2D worlds—or even 4D. I was a liberal arts major, so orbital instability and atomic whatnot are beyond me. But there’s one thing I know for sure—if humans can exist perfectly in this form, this is a 3D world like Earth… Which means I didn’t change dimensions! This is just another Earth! No, not Earth.

“Emily Ritibel.”

That’s it. This is a parallel universe!

“Ah! Yes!” I blurt out.

“What do you think about this?”

“Parallel uni—”

Did I move parallelly? Wait, what does that even mean? Also, why did the professor suddenly call my name? I think they asked me something. I glance at the students sitting next to me, but they avoid my gaze as if they also don’t know. It could also mean that they don’t want to associate with me. I have no choice but to play my last card. The real Emily would’ve been humiliated.

“Professor Flavio, you are the greatest astronomer!” I say. He looks at me like I am something on his boot, but I keep smiling. They say you can’t spit on a smiling face.

Professor Flavio continues with the lecture as if nothing happened. I don’t understand a single word. Emily, oh, Emily. I’m sure you were a genius. That’s probably why you got into this school and studied this crap.

I’m a little suspicious. If Emily was a genius, don’t you think I should be able to understand this as someone who’s controlling her body? So, why don’t I understand anything? Maybe the body is influenced by the soul rather than its physical components. It’s quite mysterious. Sadly, I haven’t figured this out yet.

If any fellow transmigrators already know the answer to this, please tell me, you evil souls! Tell me the answer. How are we—how am I—supposed to live? How long do I have to live like this? How long do I have to study for? I’m beginning to blame the other Emily, who left this body behind.

“That’s all for the lesson today. As for homework—”

I blame you, Emily. Transmigration sucks!

***

When I return to the dorms, I find my roommate already in our room, back from class. Or maybe she never left.

My roommate is a mage. That’s her profession. She’s guaranteed a job. Me, on the other hand? I am an astronomer, but I don’t have a job yet—even in this new body. Why does this always happen to me? I didn’t even get to choose my profession this time. But I can’t really complain, since I fell into someone else’s perfectly good body.

Hang on.

Who says I can’t complain? It’s not like I wanted to occupy this body. Anyway, I need to do some more research on that. There’s one problem—I’m not a genius, so I don’t understand the lecture.

Listen, Earthlings. To all the souls who traveled to parallel universes or got reincarnated in another one, why is everyone so smart? Why am I the only one suffering? This is hard to believe, but I had hopes, too. Seeing countless forests and other beautiful species. Maybe traveling around the world on a horse.

“Hey, Agatha. Do you know what this means?”

Unfortunately, doing assignments is my reality.

“How did you even get into the Academy?” she asks.

“Probably by cheating on the entrance exam. Or a through a bribe.” I was just saying that, but it was the truth. I did cheat on the exam. Somebody—the real Emily—took the exam for me.

Let me reiterate—my roommate is a mage. Her name is Agatha Llewellyn, and she’s from the Northern Continent. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know what the map of this world looks like. I heard that there were five continents and about ninety countries with various tribes and city-states, but I’m not exactly sure. Besides, there’s a lot of talk about the number of continents. I thought there were only four, but now they say there’s another. All the experts in academia say there are five, so I will go with that.

Anyway, that doesn’t matter right now. Agatha, the know-it-all, knows everything. That’s what they call her at the Department of Magic, too. She even has a self-published book called Everything Agatha the Know-It-All Knows. She’s a strange one, but I didn’t know that when I first heard. I thought that maybe a lot of people self-published in this world. I even have a copy of Everything Agatha the Know-It-All Knows on my bookshelf. I heard that she even donated a few copies to our school library. She must be rich. Then again, there’s no way she isn’t rich if she’s at the Academy.

So if there’s anything I don’t know, I just ask Agatha. Of course, I still don’t know anything, and it’s very frustrating. I don’t even know where to begin with this assignment. I have to prove that the ground rotates, not the sky.

How am I supposed to do that? Isn’t that just a given? It’s hard to prove something that just exists. If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve read more Copernicus. I think I’ve studied his works before, but I don’t remember. If I had, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.

I will develop something useful and succeed, just like all the other Earthlings who were dropped into another world! I’m going to make a name for myself here, just like all those other souls, wherever they are. I thought that once. The harsh reality is that I can’t even finish my homework.

“They say that the sky—I mean, the ground, rotates. Why does the ground rotate, Agatha?”

Damn it. I’m at my wits’ end. I’ll have to fall back on my last resort again. I’m going to cast a curse on Professor Flavio. I pray that he slips on a banana peel on the way to his next class— not that he gets seriously hurt—just enough that he can’t come to class that day. I know that won’t happen, even if I put my hands together and pray. So I ask Agatha, who knows everything.

“I dunno,” she says.

That’s how I found out she doesn’t know everything. I’m going to have to commemorate this day. I hereby mark the day when I discovered something Agatha the know-it-all doesn’t know!

Anyway, I continue agonizing.

Even if I wanted to curse Professor Flavio, it’s not my major. Isn’t it wild how casting curses is an area of study in this world? If I were a mage, I totally would’ve majored in that. Why the hell did Emily choose astronomy? What’s so great about it? Or did she just pick it because of her grades? What’s the minimum score required to get accepted into the Academy?

Wait, you know what? There’s no point thinking about this. Time moves on, and the assignments keep coming. I need to get started on this if I ever want to get some sleep. Everyone in this academy loses sleep over their studies, but not me.

After all, I’m just a passing soul—not even from this world, temporarily borrowing this body. Right? Emily, you’ll be back, right? If that happens, we can share this body. I’ll leave the studying to you, though.

Agatha walks over to me, a worried look on her face. I guess she is concerned by how I’m pressing my face into my desk. I heard that the original Emily also used to sit at this desk for hours at a time, lost in thought. Until the mishap, that is, but I still don’t know what happened.

“Emily,” Agatha says. “Do you need help? Is it too hard?”

“I thought you didn’t know the answer.”

“I don’t know the answer, but I know people who know as much as I do.”

I am delighted to hear her say that. Agatha is so smart. She knows everything, except why the ground spins.

“Yes! Please! I beg you!”

This is an opportunity I can’t miss. I don’t know who they are, but there can’t be any weirdos or idiots at the Academy, right? I guess Emily is one of those people, but let’s pretend I never said that.

“I can finally put my name on the family tree!”

“Like your family’s genealogical record?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. Agatha clearly doesn’t get me. But you do, right?

“Sure,” she says. “Do you have time tomorrow during lunch? In the cafeteria.”

I nod too enthusiastically, like a fish snapping at bait on a hook. I had no idea this was the dreadful start of it all—I literally didn’t know anything. If you knew nothing, you should’ve been more careful, Emily!

Anyway, that’s how I ended up meeting them—the academy’s Intellectual Idiots.