Chapter 4: A Pleasant Lunchtime (3)
The atmosphere was so tense it felt like a fight could break out at any moment.
Even Anastasia, who was often oblivious to social cues, couldn’t ignore the ominous aura radiating from Baek Hoyeon.
Anastasia held her ground, meeting Hoyeon’s gaze as if refusing to back down. But Hoyeon didn’t seem particularly bothered, simply staring at Anastasia with an air of disinterest.
“…Who are you?” Anastasia broke the silence first, her voice cutting through the oppressive tension.
Hoyeon responded, but her words offered no clarity of intention.
“I’m Baek Hoyeon. Nice to meet you.”
Her raised tail, stiff with hostility, seemed more like a threat than a greeting.
Her expression was far from welcoming—it was blatantly unapproachable.
Even someone as socially awkward as Anastasia could easily sense the unpleasant undertone in her demeanor.
Nevertheless, Anastasia seemed intent on defusing the situation through conversation.
“…Ah, yes. I’m Anastasia,” she replied.
But her efforts were in vain. Hoyeon, ignoring her attempt to lighten the mood, fell silent once again.
The suffocating atmosphere resumed, teetering on the brink of complete deadlock—until Hoyeon suddenly spoke again.
“…Do you know where the school store is?”
“…The school store?” Anastasia asked, clearly puzzled.
Her reaction was understandable. The abruptness of the question was jarring, especially given the current tension.
For a moment, the thought sent a chill down my spine—Anastasia’s early heroine event revolved entirely around the school store.
If Hoyeon’s interference disrupted the event, it would make it nearly impossible to build a connection with her until much later in the story.
Sure enough, Anastasia directed Hoyeon to the store but then turned away and headed somewhere else.
This can’t be happening.
For a brief moment, I considered following Anastasia to try and talk to her, but I quickly dismissed the idea.
She was the Northern Duke’s daughter, while I was just a commoner. Attempting to approach her could only end badly.
Even though the academy nominally treated all students equally, invisible hierarchies were very much in play.
Social stratifications divided students vertically—peripheral nobility, central nobility, royalty—and horizontally—Imperial, Papal, and the others left to the fringes. Commoners didn’t even rank.
If I, a mere commoner, tried to speak to Anastasia, a central noble, she might forgive me, but her followers surely wouldn’t.
The thought left me burning with frustration. Although there would be other opportunities to raise her favorability later, missing this initial event was a huge setback.
Another, more unsettling thought crossed my mind. What if Hoyeon ends up wrecking the other heroines’ events as well?
If that happened, then what?
The moment that grim possibility entered my head, I felt compelled to follow her.
Fortunately, nothing unusual happened on the way to the store, but the unease lingered.
Even if she wasn’t disrupting events now, there was always the risk she’d derail something later.
I’ll have to take the initiative. I reached a conclusion: I needed to move the events forward preemptively. Before things could spiral further, I had to establish connections with the heroines myself. That was my only goal for now.
After narrowing down the candidates, one heroine stood out: Cecilia.
A half-elf loved by spirits, Cecilia had her own devoted fanbase, though she wasn’t quite as popular as Anastasia.
Her early heroine event was as follows: for reasons unknown, the spirit bound to her began to weaken. Concerned, Cecilia tried everything she could to help but only watched helplessly as the spirit grew weaker.
Consumed by fear of losing the spirit that had protected her since birth, she was on the verge of despair when the protagonist gave her a fruit from the World Tree, miraculously restoring the spirit and earning her place in his harem.
In the original timeline, her spirit didn’t begin to weaken until the second semester, so the World Tree fruit wasn’t immediately relevant.
However, as a half-elf, the World Tree held special significance to her.
If I were to obtain such a meaningful item and present it to her, her favorability would undoubtedly increase.
After all, elves relied on the World Tree in their lives, so it wouldn’t seem out of place to use it in this way. And given that the World Tree’s fruit didn’t rot easily, I could simply store it until her spirit began to deteriorate. By then, she would associate me with the fruit and the solution to her crisis.
Conveniently, there was a young World Tree on the academy grounds, nestled in a secluded corner of a tranquil garden.
***
The place I finally arrived at, after dodging the many prying eyes that followed me, was the shelter with the massive tree.
For a moment, I wondered why such a serene space existed at the academy. But the clean, invigorating air filling my lungs swept away those idle thoughts.
From the moment I first set foot on this continent, I had noticed something unpleasant—a stifling, sticky sensation in the air.
It wasn’t hard to figure out why. The natural magical ley lines running deep underground were distorted, forcibly controlled by a twisted force.
The people here seemed to revere this force, calling it “divine power.” But to my eyes, it was nothing more than warped and corrupted magic.
The ley lines weren’t the only thing affected. Even the celestial flows were manipulated by this so-called divine power. And the “mana” humans here used—a form of magic distinct from divine power—was also unpleasantly twisted, more than enough to irritate me.
While the protagonist and his group in the novel had no trouble navigating this world, I found it deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because of my mother’s blood. That was when I truly began to feel the weight of this world’s reality.
Anyway, the people here divided themselves into warring factions, calling each other “blind fools” and “brutish heretics.” But to me, they didn’t seem all that different from one another.
Both sides were revolting. They meddled with the laws of the stars, tearing apart and reconstructing them to their liking, then clung to one another, squabbling over who was superior.
The sheer ugliness of it was nauseating.
On the coastline, the ley lines flowed sluggishly but were still intact.
However, the farther inland one ventured, the more the distorted magic gripped the ley lines tightly.
Towers of magic and churches alike extracted power from the ley lines, polluting them further—
“…Haah.”
But that wasn’t my problem. Once I graduated from the academy, I’d have no reason to remain on this continent.
I’d come here to learn, nothing more, and while I wouldn’t help this land, I wouldn’t cause harm either. The fresh air here seemed to cool my rising anger.
To be honest, when I first heard the academy was situated in the heart of the continent, I’d considered turning back.
The suffocating, stifling air of the coastal regions had nearly driven me mad, and the thought of going even deeper inland made me dizzy. Still, the thought of adventure and curiosity about what might happen at the academy had spurred me on.
And now, here I was, living with the consequences. Still, standing beneath this tree, I felt a bit more at ease. If the stifling sensation ever became unbearable, I could always come back here.
With light steps, I sat down on a nearby bench, pulled a cream bread out of the paper bag, and took a big bite.
The taste was wonderfully familiar.
It tasted just like the cream bread I used to buy from a bakery near my school during break times.
I felt a wave of nostalgia and almost started humming a tune, but the unopened milk in my bag reminded me to hold back the sentiment for now.
It was strange to drink milk from a glass bottle instead of a carton, but the glass had its own charm. Though it took some effort to open the tightly sealed cap, the fresh taste was worth it.
The mana-tainted aftertaste was slightly unpleasant, but paired with the cream bread, the flavor was bearable.
Maybe it was the clean air making everything taste better.
Since arriving at the academy, I’d felt like I’d been suffocating in oppressive, humid air, but here, the cool breeze was refreshing.
This was why I sought out such remote places—not because I feared people, but because the mana and divine power clinging to them were revolting.
It’s definitely not because I’m afraid of talking to people.
-Growl
Who was that?
Just as I was enjoying my moment of solitude, the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by a rude noise.
Expanding my senses, I quickly noticed a boy awkwardly hiding in the branches of the tree above me.
How long had he been there? How had I not noticed him until now? Why was he perched up there like that? As all these questions swirled in my mind, I kept chewing my cream bread.
…Wait. Looking closely, it was him. The protagonist.
What was he doing up there instead of charming girls? My curiosity was interrupted again by the sound.
-Growl
The loud rumble from his stomach was impossible to ignore.
Realizing he’d been found out, he fidgeted nervously, sneaking glances in my direction.
His awkwardness amused me, and for a moment, I considered teasing him.
But if he fell from that height, it would be a problem. Instead, I gestured for him to come down.
I watched as he climbed down using branches and grooves in the bark, clearly skilled despite his nervous demeanor.
Once he was on the ground, he looked tense, as though he’d been caught doing something improper.
I wanted to ask what he was doing up there like some kind of voyeur, but first things first. I pulled another cream bread from the bag and offered it to him.
His expression was comical, as though a giant question mark hung over his head.
He glanced between the bread and me several times, clearly confused.
I sighed in exasperation and, with a bit of irritation, tossed the bread toward him. He was startled but managed to catch it.
Still, he looked unsure, so I couldn’t help but add, “Your stomach was growling so loudly I could hear it from down here. Eat. I have no taste for the cruelty of eating in front of the hungry.”
Maybe it was the fresh air, or maybe it was because he was the protagonist, but talking to him felt oddly natural.
It was strange for an awkward loner like me to speak so freely to someone as sociable as him, but when else would I get the chance?
“…Ah, yes. Thank you,” he mumbled, carefully unwrapping the bread like he’d done something wrong.
Watching him, a question popped into my mind.
What was his name again?
“Come to think of it, I never asked your name. In exchange for the bread, won’t you tell me?”
The formal tone of my speech surprised me. I’d spent months being corrected by my father, and though I’d resented it at the time, it felt oddly satisfying now.
I almost felt like a real princess, speaking down to someone destined to be revered as a savior later on.
For now, though, I was the one with the upper hand, and the thought made my chest tingle.
“…It’s Han Dogeon,” he finally replied.
“Han Dogeon, is it? Are you from the Eastern Continent by chance?”
If I remembered correctly, that didn’t sound like an Eastern-style name. In the original, he had a Western-style name like James or Chris.
“No, I’m not from the Eastern Continent. But my parents were.”
Did the original story mention that? I didn’t recall any detailed background for his family.
Then again, they weren’t important characters, so there’d been no reason to elaborate on them.
Besides, the protagonist’s setup was that he’d been a reincarnated soul from my world inhabiting the body of a commoner in this one.
The more I thought about it, the more chaotic it all seemed.
So I’d reincarnated into a novel about someone reincarnating into a novel. And on top of that, I’d been gender-swapped.
Then what about him? Had he been pulled into this story from a fictional Korea, only to end up inside this novel’s protagonist? The layers of absurdity were giving me a headache.
Maybe his name was his original one from before he got dragged into this world.
I wanted to ask him more, but the bell signaling the end of lunch rang, cutting me off.
“It’s already time. You may leave now. Oh, and make sure to eat the bread.”
From experience, I knew nothing good came from being late to gym class.
It usually meant push-ups or running laps as punishment. I had no desire to run in this stifling air.
As I headed to the gymnasium, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been hiding something behind his back the whole time.
But I dismissed the thought and focused on where I was going.