Chapter 3
In the infirmary.
Leaning against the pillow on the hospital bed, Su Bei’s school uniform hung loosely on his frame. He gazed quietly out the window, appearing focused.
But anyone meeting his eyes would notice they were unfocused, clearly lost in thought.
Because he was thinking.
Since waking up, he had pieced together what had happened.
A teacher had found him unconscious in the restroom and urgently brought him to the infirmary. The infirmary teacher diagnosed low blood sugar, saying he’d be fine after some rest.
So Su Bei was now resting in the infirmary, free to return to class after the opening ceremony speech ended.
During this time, he needed to quickly process the flood of information he’d received and plan his optimal course of action.
Returning to class would mark his official debut. The first impression he made on others was crucial, as it would partly determine his early popularity.
But he wasn’t just planning how to catch attention at first glance. More importantly, he needed to craft a persona—one that would facilitate his future actions.
What kind of persona should that be?
This wasn’t hard for Su Bei to figure out. He decided it should be a “mysterious figure with a powerful ability.”
A powerful ability would boost his strength, while being mysterious would allow him to adapt and layer on more traits as opportunities arose.
Being a mysterious figure was easy to manage. He’d seen plenty of criminals with his father, many of whom loved playing the cryptic type, spouting seemingly profound but incomprehensible lines.
Su Bei was well-versed in this.
The other issue was trickier, as he hadn’t yet decided what kind of ability to claim.
A powerful ability was easy to imagine—say, [Summon Meteor], [Create Black Hole], or [Time Stop]—but he obviously couldn’t announce those right away.
If he walked in and told the protagonist, “Hey, did you know my ability is Time Stop?” he’d probably be out of the game instantly.
After all, the protagonist, Jiang Tianming, wasn’t an idiot. Why would someone with [Time Stop] be in Class F? A quick question to the homeroom teacher would expose his lie, leaving no room for recovery.
Moreover, Su Bei was genuinely concerned about one thing: as an ordinary civilian, he didn’t know much about ability users or the upper limits of their powers.
If the powerful abilities he could think of were actually mediocre in the eyes of truly strong ability users, revealing his hand now would cost him further opportunities.
So, he had to stay mysterious…
There was another point he’d just realized: the ability had to be related to gears. He couldn’t immediately make readers believe in his ability, so his [Gear] ability likely wouldn’t change in the short term.
To avoid slipping up, the fabricated ability had to tie to gears, making it easier to blur the lines.
What would be an ability that let him plausibly play the mysterious figure, had growth potential, and was related to gears?
Suddenly, Su Bei’s eyes lit up!
[Destiny Gear]—didn’t that meet all his criteria? As someone who could see the protagonist’s plot in this world, he indeed had an inseparable link to destiny.
With a concrete idea, the next step was to consider his character positioning and how to leave a striking first impression on readers.
The “Manga Consciousness” had already told him that, despite escaping his opening-death fate, his cannon fodder status still loomed over him like the Sword of Damocles.
In other words, he was still highly likely to die. If a scene required someone to die, it would probably be him.
So he had to quickly nail down his character positioning, ideally placing himself in an invincible position where the manga couldn’t kill him off.
It was well-known that befriending the protagonist didn’t guarantee escaping a plot death. Hadn’t a righteous character who helped the protagonist a lot in the first volume died just a few pages later? Not to mention, modern shonen manga loved tragic endings where the entire protagonist group met bad ends.
If being a good guy wouldn’t work, then he’d be a villain.
Villains were always defeated by the protagonist, not randomly killed off by the plot. As long as he controlled the degree of villainy, made readers care about him, ensured the protagonist didn’t need to kill him, and left room for redemption, he had a good chance of surviving!
With this in mind, Su Bei unhesitatingly yanked the IV needle from the back of his hand, ignoring the blood that welled up, jumped off the bed, and headed straight to the restroom.
If he wanted to be a popular character, he had to make full use of his face.
“Student Su Bei, are you still there?”
Soon, a gentle female voice came from outside. It was the school nurse, who had left to attend to her tasks after explaining Su Bei’s fainting incident and was now back.
“I’m here!” Su Bei quickly emerged from the restroom, water droplets still clinging to his face. The damp bangs on his forehead were swept back, revealing a clean brow, giving him a fresh, handsome look.
A droplet slid down his high, straight nose, lingering at the tip before he casually wiped it away with his hand. “What’s up, Teacher?”
The nurse’s gaze snapped back at his words, inwardly marveling that the “Endless Ability Academy” never lacked for good-looking guys. She chided herself for being swayed by his looks at thirty years old, missing the fleeting cunning in the boy’s eyes.
“No big deal, just saw the IV was pulled out and worried something happened.” As she spoke, her eyes landed on his still-bleeding hand, and she exclaimed in shock and anger, “What’s this about?”
Seeing her reaction, a trace of surprise flickered in Su Bei’s eyes, but it vanished quickly. He gave an awkward smile, saying, “I was in a rush to use the restroom, so…”
The nurse shot him an exasperated glare, had him sit back on the bed, and none-too-gently reinserted the needle.
Su Bei obediently let her work, lowering his eyes to stare at his hand, his long lashes hiding his thoughts.
The nurse’s reaction had revealed something very interesting.
The “Endless Ability Academy” was known to be extremely safe—a universally acknowledged fact. As the nation’s only institution for training the next generation of ability users, the academy was guarded by countless powerful figures, making it arguably the safest place in the country.
So, given his earlier disappearance and the injury on his hand, the logical assumption would be that he’d done something himself.
But the nurse’s reactions—both times—seemed to suggest she thought he’d encountered some kind of danger. Such an instinctive response was worth pondering.
Did she know about some danger in the school?
Come to think of it, the school nurse’s role was indeed noteworthy.
Suddenly, Su Bei lifted his eyes, a smile tinged with purple in his phoenix eyes. He casually chatted with her: “Teacher, how long have you been at our school?”
“A bit over a year? Less than two, anyway,” the nurse replied without looking up, securing the needle with a bandage.
“That’s not long. Then you probably don’t know any academy secrets,” Su Bei sighed, feigning disappointment.
At this, the nurse looked up, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “What kind of academy secrets do you want to know? Let’s hear it.”
Su Bei flashed a flattering smile. “I want to know about our homeroom teacher’s personality, any quirks or taboos, that sort of thing.”
Hearing it was about this, the nurse shook her head, amused. “That’s it? Who’s your homeroom teacher? I may not have been here long, but I know a thing or two about this.”
“I think it’s Teacher Wang Jianguo. He’s teaching Class 1-F, right?” Su Bei said, sounding uncertain.
In truth, he remembered clearly. The bulletin board at the school entrance listed Teacher Meng Huai as Class F’s instructor.
He’d deliberately misspoken to reinforce the nurse’s impression of his class.
As expected, the nurse shook her head, a bit helplessly. “You got it wrong. Class F is with Teacher Meng Huai. Don’t mix it up again. This Teacher Meng Huai has a gentle temperament…”
Su Bei listened attentively to the nurse’s description of Teacher Meng Huai, subtly shifting his body toward the bed’s edge, “accidentally” knocking his backpack, already precariously placed, to the floor.
At the same time, he swiftly caught it with his hand, letting it land silently.
Soon, noisy sounds came from outside the window. The nurse approached, removing the bandage and needle while handing him a cotton swab. “The speech is over. It’s the perfect time for you to head back to class.”
Su Bei nonchalantly pressed the cotton swab hard against the needle mark a few times, then tossed it into the trash, waving goodbye. “See you, Teacher!”
The nurse smiled. “I’d rather we didn’t meet again.”
After all, seeing her meant he was injured.
“Who knows,” the boy said offhandedly, then quickly slipped away.
The nurse shook her head with a smile, not thinking much of it.
***
Strolling leisurely to the first-floor corridor of the teaching building, Su Bei first peered through the back door’s window to survey the classroom.
The back window offered a view of nearly everyone inside. Almost instantly, Su Bei’s gaze landed on a black-haired boy.
Jiang Tianming, with black hair and black eyes, stood out in a world of colorful hair. He also had a calm aura. Even from behind, he was distinctly different from background characters. Despite sitting in an unremarkable spot—fourth row, third seat by the door—he was immediately noticeable.
To his right was a girl with long blue hair reaching her waist, her graceful figure faintly visible. One glance suggested she was likely beautiful. Just as protagonists were distinct from extras, beauties were distinct from ordinary people. This had to be Lan Subing, part of the protagonist group.
In the previous chapter’s final plot, this heiress had voluntarily joined Class F, citing her inability to speak despite her [Word Spirit] ability, because the protagonist was assigned there.
Spotting a suitable position, a determined smile flashed in Su Bei’s eyes. He adjusted his expression and headed to the front door.
At the front door, he made a show of scanning the room, his gaze locking onto Jiang Tianming. Then he strode over, flashing the smile he’d practiced dozens of times in the infirmary mirror. He pressed two fingers to his temple, flicked them outward in a suave gesture, and delivered the line he’d prepared.
To Jiang Tianming and the others, it was a stunning scene—
The sunlight outside was bright and fierce, streaming through the glass onto the boy’s golden hair, so dazzling it seemed he was glowing.
The boy grinned boldly, his deep purple eyes holding a hint of gravity. What should have been a flippant remark carried a touch of sincerity—
“On behalf of destiny, I salute you, this year’s unluckiest soul~”