Stephen rubbed his eyes, confused, because for a moment he thought a butler was standing in front of him. When Stephen looked again, the same resplendent butler was glaring at him. Stephen looked around, eyeing the pair of soft armchairs set in front of a crackling fireplace. Between them was a silver coffee table. Stephen thought his dream was awfully detailed as he watched the flames twist and flicker in the fireplace.

“My good Sir,” The butler said, his voice barely tinged with sarcasm, “If you aren't going to enjoy this tea and cake, it would be best if you just followed me to meet his majesty.”

Stephen laughed weakly, “Right, of course, how could I forget?”

The butler’s expression turned dark, “This is not something to take lightly. His majesty has been waiting for your arrival for over a month.”

Stephen’s cheek twitched as he tried not to smile. A month? One second Stephen was rummaging through his parents’ stuff, the next he was being chastised by a butler. Maybe there was a gas leak in the lower floor of his apartment. Why did he believe he was in some castle?

The butler grew impatient. He turned around gracefully and began marching down the hall. At a loss for words, Stephen followed after. If he was hallucinating, he may as well play along. He just hoped his parents would think to check on their missing child before it was too late.

Following the butler, Stephen glanced around the hallway, taking in the maroon carpet laid out over finished, dark wooden floors and the painted white walls with gold leaf trim. A series of paintings, all showcasing a full-bodied king with a curly black beard and shimmering emerald eyes, lined the wall to his right. Each portrait displayed the kingly figure in a variety of attire and fanciful garments. Opposite the portraits where another series of paintings. These ones depicted a variety of heroic figures, a mix of what looked like spellcasters, knights, and an archer. The two spellcasters looked vaguely familiar, but the butler didn't seem to care about giving Stephen time to look closer. The butler turned right at a crossing in the hallway, and moved towards a staircase leading down.

“Okay,” Stephen drew a shuddering breath, “I think the joke is done, where are the cameras? Who are you with?”

It was one thing to fake a room, Stephen thought. A group of people could build the set easily with fake walls and an actor. A hallway was trickier but just as plausible. A staircase, however, was something else entirely. Stephen knew he had been on the lowest floor of the apartment complex. No stairs were going down, not unless the people pulling this stunt had knocked Stephen out and moved him.

The butler turned again. He looked at Stephen hard, at first, but his expression softened.

The butler spoke carefully, “You don’t understand, do you?”

Stephen shook his head, bracing himself on the railing. He had a terrible feeling what the butler would say next.

The butler pressed his fingers to his forehead, “I’m going to need a nightcap after this. I assumed, since you were holding the letter, you knew what you were doing.”

Stephen’s throat tightened. He tried to swallow the dryness taking over his mouth, but the action only made him more uncomfortable. Stephen's mind was racing, telling him it was all real. It couldn’t be faked, not to this scale. Not unless he’d somehow angered a multi-millionaire or gotten himself wrapped in some sci-fi conspiracy.

“You’ve been transported to a world different from your own,” The butler said bluntly, "The letter you were holding contained a spell that brough you here."

The words hit Stephen so hard his head spun. His grip on the railing tightened, but his legs shook and he could hardly stand. What had he gotten himself into?