Academy’s Drunk Fighter

“Uugh…”
I groaned, holding my head as I sat up. A pounding headache washed over me.

But we were way past the point where I could just laugh it off with a “Guess I’m a damn dog when I drink again.” No—this hangover, I had to face head-on.
“Huh?”
Still half-dazed, I got up and headed to the bathroom, out of habit. Only… there wasn’t one.

There was a wall where the bathroom should be.
I thought maybe I’d just gotten turned around, but no—my room was way too small for that kind of mistake.
And the layout… it wasn’t my usual one-room apartment. Not even close.

The mirror was old and cracked, the table was scratched to hell, and the wardrobe looked like it was ready to fall apart at any second.
Yeah, I might be broke—but not this broke.
“What the hell?”

Was I kidnapped or something? But come on, who the hell would go through the trouble of kidnapping some dude living in a shoebox apartment?
I didn’t have any family, no ties, nothing to gain from snatching me up. I wasn’t some long-lost heir to a billionaire family or anything.
Hell, a more believable scenario would be the IRS dragging me overseas to work off my unpaid taxes.

“Hmm…”
What really freaked me out, though, wasn’t just the furniture. It was my height. Everything was way too tall. My field of vision was low. Unnaturally low.
What was I now, like… 150 centimeters? Maybe not even that.

Unless I’d somehow ended up in a land of giants, the only logical explanation was—I’d shrunk.
And just looking at myself—my pale skin, these tiny hands that clearly didn’t belong to an adult, and the long, snow-white hair…
“…Holy shit.”

I leaned in toward the cracked mirror to get a closer look and immediately cursed out loud.
“A… loli?!”
My face and body matched every stereotypical “ideal loli” I’d ever seen—maybe a little taller, but definitely in that territory.
“Ow.”

I pinched my cheek just to be sure. Yep. Real. This was real.
Okay. Next step—what the hell do I do?
 

[Options:]
1. Figure out where I am, open my notepad, and start milking the story and opportunities.
2. I turned into a cute anime girl and I’m not streaming? Time to become a VTuber idol!
3. Head hurts. Let’s get a drink first.
 

Tough choice. But I made my decision fast.
“Number three.”
Of course, to pull that off, I’d still have to go through option number one first.

‘It’s definitely inside Dreaming World…’
Even though I’d passed out drunk, I still vaguely remembered the appearance of the character I saved.
And yeah—what I was seeing in the mirror matched the last thing I saw before blacking out.

Creeeak.
Just then, the door creaked open. Someone was coming in. I quickly laid back down on the bed, pretending to still be out cold.
I could see two people—a woman who looked like a mom, and someone who looked like a doctor.

The doctor was in a white coat, holding a bag full of tools that looked more like torture gear than medical equipment.
“Esha. How are you feeling?”
“Ah… fine.”

I gave a vague answer and listened to their conversation.
“Doctor, what’s going to happen to Esha?”
“Well… we’ll have to monitor her, but in the worst-case scenario… we may need to cut open her abdomen and remove the poison manually.”

…What?
I thought I misheard.
Remove poison? By cutting open my stomach?

Okay, I knew alcohol leaves toxins in the body, sure. But who the hell removes it by surgery? That’s some medieval shit!
And I was sure Dreaming World was set in a modern academy world!
“There’s a high chance she’ll bleed out and die… but it’s still better than being drunk for the rest of her life.”

No, no it’s not! I’ll take lifelong drunkenness over gutting any day, thanks.
But of course, the doctor didn’t know what I was thinking. He just reached toward his bag with a serious look on his face.
Schlick.

What the hell was that sound?! Why was it so ominous?!
“Sob…”
“Sigh. There is one other option.”

“Wh-What is it, doctor?!”
“We could… send Esha to the Academy.”
“…What? But she’s already in poor health. And we can’t afford—”

“Well, hiring a proper mage is out of the question. That kind of treatment costs a fortune. Same with doctors who have ability-based healing.”
Ah. I got it now.
This family had no money. They scraped together enough to bring in a shady back-alley doctor, and now that guy was about to slice me open.

In other words, I had one way out.
“I… I want to go to the Academy.”
“I’m sorry, Esha. We just don’t have the money for that…”

I’d already figured out that this household was dirt poor.
But getting into the Academy wasn’t only about money.
‘If I get in as a scholarship student, all fees are waived.’

Academy scholarships covered tuition, offered benefits, and even financial support. Plus, every Academy had a nurse’s office staffed with either mages or doctors who had healing powers—perfect for treating poison like mine.
“…You’re aiming for a scholarship, aren’t you?”
The woman—my new “mother,” I guess—realized what I was thinking right away.

I mean, it was common knowledge. The perks were insane, both socially and economically.
“You… think you can really do it?”
“I can.”

Thankfully, the Central Academy—the main setting of the game’s storyline—had free entry.
So yeah, everyone and their dog would probably apply. But the difficulty was so brutal that most people gave up before they even started.
The entrance test? Stuff like hunting monsters in a forest, surviving brutal fights with instructors, or escaping from dungeons filled with trap magic.

“If this is really what you want, I won’t stop you. But… if it gets too dangerous, come back, okay?”
“Thank you.”
She may have been poor, but she clearly wasn’t poor in spirit.

Even though her sick child was about to throw herself into a deadly exam, she still gave her blessing.
Maybe she just didn’t have the strength to stop me—but either way, I appreciated it.
“Oh, and one more favor.”

“Hm? What is it?”
“Can you… buy me some booze?”
“……………”

She just looked at me with eyes full of pity.
 
****

Wide Open Stadium
A massive stadium spread out before me.
Multiple stages, a roaring crowd—this was the place to be.

Only those who passed a physical exam and showed a certain level of talent were allowed to participate. Everyone else? Rejected.
[3302]
“Number 3302, next.”

“Oh, that’s me.”
When my number popped up on the screen, I stepped into the testing room.
“We’ll begin the measurement.”

“Okay~”
“…Excuse me, did you drink alcohol? We’re detecting a presence of ethanol.”
“I maaay have had a tiny bit. Hehe.”

“…R-Right.”
I’d downed a bottle of low-proof ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) liquor just before coming in. It showed up on the breathalyzer, but thankfully it wasn’t high enough to get me disqualified.
Any higher, and I might’ve been kicked out. But I had my reasons.

Trait: Alcoholic.
It sounded like something ripped straight out of some old-school guitarist’s tragic biography, but this trait made me more cheerful and positive the more I drank.
On the flip side, if I wasn’t even slightly tipsy, I became absurdly negative—and the headaches were no joke.

On top of that, Trait: Drunkard tanked my physical abilities whenever I hadn’t been drinking.
To the point where even a kid could probably beat the crap out of me.
So yeah—I had to drink just to pass the minimum standards.

Not that I minded. I did kind of enjoy it too.
“Heehee~”
Hey, whatever works, right?

Past the entrance, beyond the checkpoint, I saw it—dozens of stages, a sea of people, and waves of cheers echoing through the stadium.
“Whewww~!”
“Is that… alcohol in her hand?”

“Can you even bring something like that in?”
“I mean, people are walking around with swords and guns, so… maybe that’s not even that weird.”
I wandered into the massive central square. It was packed with candidates.

And out of everyone, I was the only one without a weapon.
Even brawlers and summoners usually had some kind of gear. I had nothing.
In my left hand? A convenience store-bought bottle of low-proof (and probably watered-down) alcohol.
In my right? Nothing.

My outfit? Just a plain white T-shirt I grabbed from home.
That was it. That’s how I walked onto the stage.
“…Isn’t that kind of disrespectful to the Academy?”

“Seriously. What the hell is she thinking?”
Every year, people trained their asses off just to try getting into this place. But me? I did zero prep.
I mean, sure, I wished I had cooler traits. Something like “Master of All Things” or “Future Sight” or whatever.

But all I had were:
Drunken Fist
Potion of Courage

Limit Release
 
No reality-bending, no law-breaking abilities. Just raw physical force—and not even good-quality force at that.

Honestly, this just shows how dumb I must’ve been when I made this character drunk off my ass.
But I didn’t expect to actually become the character, so yeah… here we are.
“Well—there’s still a way~.”

Regret over the past is for amateurs. Living your present the best you can? That’s mid-tier.
But shaping your own future? That’s high-tier.
I knew exactly how to make these mediocre traits work for me.
“Alright! The Academy Entrance Exam begins now!!”

A portal opened in midair, and hundreds of students sprinted toward it.
To get a head start. To leave the competition in the dust.
Gulp, gulp.

‘Ugh… I’m sleepy.’
But if my memory was right, getting in early wouldn’t matter much for this round.
So I laid down on the ground, used the dirt as a pillow, and closed my eyes for a quick nap.

“Hey! That guy’s sleeping?!”
“Who let that drunk in here?!”
“This exam is such a joke!”

The crowd jeered and mocked me from all directions.
“Snoooore…”
This is insane! Someone get her through the portal, now!

And just like that, I felt the examiners—clearly panicking—physically lift me up and toss me into the portal themselves.
My body dropped through space.