[b]Lü Ziya[/b]

Imagine, for a second, that you have magic. It's probably something you've done a lot of course, whether it was as during your childhood when you had yet to be crushed by cynicism and still aspired to be special or as part of a fantastic daydream to avoid the neverending drudgery that is the modern capitalist consumerist culture. So it would be simple then, for you to place yourself in another world, in another time, where you are not, in fact, an average fellow who is literate in English, but instead Lü Ziya, a fifteen-year old Chinese-American magician from Nevada and wannabe communist politician who was engaging in what one would call a nap upon a couch within the Peregrine Hotel's student hangout area, biding his time for their eventual arrival at the Salem Institute for his fifth year of glorious education.

What the Peregrine Hotel and Salem are, of course, need no explanation.

...

After all, you have already read this far down the page, have you not?

...

And so, lying down upon a red velvet couch, back against the material, was Lü Ziya, his hat and mask both fixed upon his head properly, obscuring his facial appearance quite significantly. In fact, it would be difficult to even note whether he was asleep or not, had it not been for the slow rise and fall of his chest, a rhythm that signalled that he was very deep within the hands of Morpheus.