The protagonist meets the second hero.

Okay~ So like, after that totally savage beatdown Carlotta gave me, I made a suuuper simple (but like, totally life-saving) decision, kay?

I’m skipping the rest of my classes.

There’s no freakin’ way I’m throwin’ myself back into the lion’s den! And nooo way in hell am I lettin’ my butt get dragged deeper into that prince dude’s route! Ugh, nightmare. Besides, if I remember right, today’s Friday. And this Academy — in all its royal kindness or whatevs — gives us weekends off. So obvi I didn’t even hesitate: went straight back to my dorm like a queen, with zero shame.

“Alrighty… time to get **** done” I whispered to myself as I pushed open the door and walked into the disaster zone that was my room. Like, literal disaster. Torn-up papers everywhere, pillows tossed around, and a blanket twisted up like I’d wrestled a freakin’ ghost all night.

Step one: clean. Step two: life.

Boom. After, like, a whole hour of cleaning — mixed with whining, dramatic sighs, and like five "ugh, why am I like this?!" — I finally made Kathryn’s room look not-totally-depressing again.

I even went full Martha Stewart and lined up the cutesy plushies along the wall next to my bed, all neat and ready like they were tiny cheerleaders cheering me on with their stitched little arms and cursed eternal smiles.

“Yaaas, let’s go Julia you got this!” I squeaked in a high-pitched voice while giving them finger guns like a total dork.

Hey, anything to not feel so alone…

But with that done, it was time for the real glow-up.

I plopped myself in front of the wardrobe mirror, arms crossed, giving myself that classic "fashion designer about to ruin someone’s life on TV" look.

Time to take control of this body I got dumped into.

Kathryn wasn’t, like, bad or anything. Her face was pretty, her skin was smooth, and that soft cotton candy hair? Kinda magical. But like… she’s not me.

“Let’s start with the top~” I murmured, twirling a pink strand in my fingers.

Back in my OG world, I had straight black hair with yellow streaks in my bangs. Total bad girl energy~ I still remember the meltdown Mom had over it… W-wait, nope! Not going there. Too sad, no thanks.

Anyway, this time? I’mma do something similar, but with a twist:

Black streaks.

Against this sweet baby pink, those dark lines would look so fierce. Like shadows in a sugar dream. Not that I hate the pink, but like, I need something that screams me. A little reminder that I still exist. That I’m not just gettin’ absorbed into this bizarro JRPG world like some kinda NPC.

“There’s gotta be some dye in here… Kathryn must’ve had a wild side somewhere… I’ll look later.”

I brushed the hair back and looked down at the school skirt. Okay, real talk: it was cute. Had this adorable little floral design near the waistband. Buuuut...

“Nope. This has got to go.”

It was, like, ridiculously long. And if my trash memory isn’t lying again (which, like, it might), it’s ‘cause of Kathryn’s complex. She used to hide her tail. Like, literally wrapped it around her leg just to look more “human.”

Like, girl… that’s actually depressing.

But I’m not her. I’m me. So screw that. These people can keep sniffing their own etiquette. I’m done pretending.

I’m a Nen. And that means I’ve got a cute-ass kitty tail and I’m gonna rock it! IDC if these NPCs give me stink eyes. They can choke.

I mean, c’mon. I love cats! So if I get to be one and piss off the local nobility? Double win, babes~

—So~ —I smirked at my reflection— time to shorten this skirt.

Back home, I always wore ‘em above the knees. Comfy, breezy, and with that perfect flirty “don’t mess with me unless you’re cute” vibe.

And you know I’m styling that tail up with a ribbon or somethin’. It’s called aesthetic.

—Ugh, I’m such a genius —I whispered, grabbing a pair of sewing scissors.

Time to werk. Time to reclaim my vibe.

Because no matter how much this world tries to mold me into someone else...

I’m not disappearing. Not for anyone.

***

Okay, so like, I damn near died getting this done, but I finally did it! I declared victory the moment I sashayed out the door, puffing out my chest with pride that could burst through walls.

Still, in my real body it'd’ve taken me like, no time at all. But for whatever reason, Kathryn’s hands are totally useless at cutting and sewing. Like—has this girl ever even held a needle? Whatever. I wasn’t gonna let that kill my vibe. I actually felt a bit more… me than ever before.

One final glance in the tech-mirror confirmed it: here I stood, a version closer to Julia. Wearing the school coat, yes, but my skirt was now modern, and my tail was swishing free—playful, alive.

Technically, tweaking your uniform was allowed. As long as you didn’t go wild—no white coats or hoodie tank tops. But skirting length was fine, as long as you kept the floral trim. And hey, this academy had three uniform variants anyway. Not like they cared.

…Don’t ask me why I remembered that, but not, like, the actual plot details.

I combed my hair one last time, perfecting that ombré streak from deep black to pastel pink. It looked hot if I do say so myself.

Strolling down the steampunk hallways, I felt a buzz of glances like static on my fur. Do you really hate a little style?

Meh. As long as my teachers aren’t triggered, I’m golden.

I slipped into class, trying to be chill—but of course I wasn’t. The second I stepped in, time paused. My tail fluffed. Shocking, being the protagonist and all that.

And then I saw her. That flawless porcelain-faced queen, rising and gliding straight to me. Her rage was choreographed, deadly. She slammed the neck of my coat and tugged my skirt to inspect the crime scene.

“What the hell did you do to our precious Libelling uniform?!”

“Hey! Watch your hands—my panties are not fanservice!”

“And did you dye your hair? Are you some kind of gang member now?”

Deja-vu. That’s exactly what my mom used to say when I dyed my hair in my old life. But at least she wasn’t glaring like she’d kill me for it.

Carlotta kept jiggling me around until I was so over it. I grabbed her wrists and shoved her off.

“Seriously… is this really a crisis? I didn’t ruin it or anything.”

I meant it—the floral pattern was still intact, and plenty of students had wild colors. Green hair, blue hair, purple streaks—so why’s me getting roasted?

Honestly… this psycho’s so extra.

“Of course it’s serious. You vandalized the uniform. It’s unignorable insult.”

Yeah, I was about to walk away—until I heard that voice.

“I agree. I don’t think it’s that grave. It’s still the Académie’s uniform, right? Just a tweak to express some dignity.”

Guess who showed up? Of course, Prince Charming. Perfect timing, I prayed I wouldn’t accidentally trigger his route.

“Fine,” I said truthfully. “I just trimmed it. And I kept the floral trim.”

“But still... that’s one thing. Public display is another.”

“You mean this?” I smirked—like, so hard—letting my tail twitch and smack Carlotta right on the nose.

HA! Priceless look on her face, totally worth it—though… why did I do that? Why am I provoking her!?

Then I remembered: Kathryn is hot-blooded, and I love trolling people I hate. This shared personality malfunction is a recipe for pissing off a psychopath.

S***.

Just as expected, Carlotta squeezed my tail, sending a jolting electrical spike through my whole body. Not the good kind.

“So I guess you don’t wanna live, huh?” she sneered, grinning like a murder scene in human form.

Before I could retort, a hand grabbed my waist and tugged me back. I didn’t even have to turn to know who it was: Kaelvarion. Ugh.

Yep—deep in his route now… and honestly I earned it.

Like some cheap romance novel prince, he pulled me close, hand gently cupping my cheek—like a big brother or a stalker.

“My fiancée, you shouldn’t let your bad temper wrinkle that face. After all, it’s the only good thing you’ve got.”

Ouch—that one stung… and it wasn’t even aimed at me. For a split second, I almost felt bad for Carlotta. Almost.

For the first time, this guy didn’t totally disgust me… but nah. He’s still cringe.

Carlotta didn’t flinch, though. She smoothed her uniform like she’d just ripped someone’s soul, and sighed in that calm-but-stormy tone.

“Dear fiancé, you should stop your habit of rescuing… stray cats. Especially the aggressive ones who bite the hand that feeds them. I wouldn’t want my nobility to catch rabies like some mangy beast.”

“Sharp tongue as always, eh?” he countered with that smug half-smile.

I saw sparks... not gonna lie. And I’m just stuck between their ego war—with my tail as host—ugh.

“Look, there must be a peaceful way to fix this… or violent, but with me waaaay over here, far away.”

I murmured quietly, stepping backwards, tugging my tail as if to hide it… but then I noticed something.

Every time this shit happens… crowds form.

Lit or nah, drama attracts watchers—or maybe I do.

I’m not even kidding—every single classmate is staring like rats around a trap. Some whispering, girls clawing their sleeves as if I’d stabbed their pets by accident.

“Do something, for real!” I growled in my head, scanning for help. But c’mon…

They’re NPCs. I sighed inwardly.

Just when I thought those two were gonna rip each other's extensions out in front of me, THUD! A pale hand, book dropped on Kaelvarion’s head.

Sounded like a hollow coconut—LOL.

“Your Majesty, you should know I’m the authority in this room.”

The teacher’s tone was tired—not angry. Coffee-deprived and probably had a double shift last night. His white lab coat had gold gear motifs—pretty steampunk chic, actually.

“So… can someone explain this spectacle?”

“I was fulfilling my duty as a prince… protecting a beautiful lady from a vile villain.” Kaelvarion said with drama-queen swag.

The teacher just turned his jade-colored eyes to Carlotta.

“…Translate?” he mouthed.

“The prince insists on defending this Nen for breaking dress protocol. Just look at how she’s dressed. It’s an offense to the Academy’s code.”

That teacher’s gaze was cold. And my tail stiffened like a cat’s hackles.

“Why?” he asked.

Ah, time for improv.

“Well… some random pleb ruined my uniform, and as it’s known, I’m just a street girl. I can’t afford a new one, so I fixed it myself. That´s kay?”

Silence rang. Felt eternal.

“…Fine.”

The teacher said it flat.

“B-But…” Carlotta tried.

“Enough. Time to start class.” He sighed, sounding done. “Also, I gotta assume from your attitude, Miss Wiebke, that you're the one who messed up the uniform, right? You better sit down, okay? As long as ya don't mess it up any further, it’s all chill. Can I start now?” He barely even looked at me.

“Ha! In your face, b—!” I screamed inside, biting my lip to hold back laughter as I watched her face freeze in stunned silence.

I knew being the protagonist meant logic gets tossed out the window. Privileges, baby.

Oh… feels so good to win at your game, psycho. Though… I might’ve just earned a fiery mortal enemy again.

Ups.

***

The bell rang, and I bolted like someone had strapped a firecracker to my back. Why? Easy: I'm not naive or dumb enough to think Carlotta won’t try to kill me after what happened in class.

So I ran. Not in any specific direction—just chasing that primal instinct screaming “run or die.” And I ended up on... the rooftop. Don’t ask me how I got here. My legs just dragged me, like they remembered some secret hideout from a past life.

“Ah…” I let out a breath as the wind gently ruffled my bangs. “This feels nice. So... peaceful. No one around. Just me. Alone.”

“Right? It's the perfect spot when you don't wanna deal with people.”

“I know, it's the bes—wait, what?”

I turned around slowly, my brain still buffering the fact someone had just replied. It took me a few seconds to reboot. A soft, almost syrupy voice had spoken... from the shadow of a small shed in the corner of the roof.

A playful laugh followed, like the tinkling of a mischievous bell.

And then I saw him.

He jumped down from above with casual grace, like he owned the sky. His silhouette was outlined by the sun, giving him this dreamy, unfinished-painting vibe. His orange hair was tousled by the wind, straight out of some dramatic anime scene. His school blazer flapped open behind him, fluttering like a flag in battle.

Was he traditionally handsome? Hard to say. His features were delicate, almost too refined, but his energy... the way he moved, carried himself—that was a whole different story. Let’s just say he was interesting to look at. Whether that was good or bad? Still up for debate.

But I knew instantly. Well... I didn’t know who he was, but I knew what he was.

The second love interest. The childhood friend.

The route that smelled like sweet drama and half-swallowed tears.

“Miss...?”

His voice was way too close. Not an exaggeration—he was literally inches from my face.

My tail bristled like it had been shocked with static, and my body went full combat mode: trauma plus self-defense training equals automatic counterattack.

“Whoa! Dude, what the hell!? Ever heard of personal space!?”

Without thinking, I grabbed his arm. And since he was shorter than me (score one for Kathryn and her glorious 178 cm!), I lifted him by the waist and tripped him with surgical precision.

And there he was—on the floor, staring up at me like I’d just dropkicked his soul. What’s with the shocked face? You spook someone with PTSD and expect a hug? Screw off.

I twisted his arm a little harder, just in case.

“...Ouch… Okay, that was impressive.”

“Not what I wanted to hear.”

“Then what...?”

“How about a ‘Sorry for getting all up in your face like it was normal and not incredibly weird’?”

“I thought... you came to see me.”

“Excuse me? Why would I do that? Dial down the ego, you’re not that cute.”

I let go with a dramatic flick of disgust. I remembered now why I never liked this guy. Sure, he was pretty, but his ego was the size of a hot air balloon seconds before it pops. He was the “Idol” of Libelling Academy. Ugh...

To my surprise, he didn’t get up. He just lay there like a sad loaf of bread.

“Miss... have we met before?”

“...Nah...”

I lied without blinking. In the original story, Kathryn and he were childhood friends.

How did a Nen and a noble meet? Easy! His noble family had some business or something near where Kathryn used to live. They met, and that was that. But for some reason, they drifted apart. What happened between them? No clue. I fell asleep during that part of the game… right after the intro to his route.

Better to stick with the lie and back away before I get sucked into the tragic heartthrob storyline.

“Bye-bye.”

I gave him a quick wave as I walked past him, heading for the stairs.

“And next time, don’t pull that whole getting-up-in-someone’s-face thing. Do that again and someone’s gonna knock your teeth out.”

“My name is Elion Von Lysandre. May I have the honor of knowing yours?”

“None of your business. That’s my na—”

Wait. Rooftop. Childhood friend. Asking for names. This rings a bell...

Come on, brain! Give me something! I know this is important!

Memories, I choose you!

And there it was. Like a lightning bolt. This was the opening scene of Elion’s route. Right after the heroine shared her name with him, she showed up… the villainess of this path. The Doll Girl.

I had to run.

No time to think. I flung open the door like I had a demon on my tail. And honestly? I might not be wrong, if that girl finds me here with her golden boy.

Run, run, I told myself. I can still dodge this walking jumpscare.

But of course, my luck is just a disaster wrapped in a pretty bow.

BAM!

I slammed into something in the hallway, and just like that, we both tumbled down the stairs in a chaotic mess of limbs and pain.

“Ow...” I groaned as I felt a weight land on my stomach.

I opened my eyes slowly. And I knew.

My heart skipped a beat and my tail curled like a lightning bolt out of sheer panic.

On top of me was her: a girl with long hair and a... unique cut. One of those you don’t forget, even if you only saw it once—through a classroom window or in a shiny hallway reflection.

Her hair was charmingly messy, like the wind had styled it and she just rolled with it. The strands framing her face curled elegantly toward the center of her chest, almost like her hair was wrapping around her protectively, hiding her like a soft, warm secret in the middle of the classroom.

The lower layers fluffed out gracefully, forming a round silhouette, as if every strand was trying to be part of a reddish cloud. The color? A blazing red—vibrant, the kind that grabs your attention even in a noisy classroom full of chaos. Like a candied apple under afternoon sun.

But the most striking part was her bangs—way too long, covering everything except her soft pink lips.

Her outfit? Technically the uniform, but modified with details that screamed gothic lolita perfection: neatly pressed, trimmed in lace, pitch black like midnight. Straight out of a Victorian shop window.

It’s the doll psycho!

I braced to do a backflip and launch her off with a well-earned kick, but I couldn’t. Her hands started fumbling on my chest—not in a creepy way, more like a clumsy doll trying to get up—but that didn’t make it any less awkward.

“Ah… what happened…?” she murmured, her voice so quiet it almost floated away. Like it didn’t fully belong to this world. Soft, like a lullaby… but with a disturbingly blank vibe.

I might’ve appreciated the moment—maybe even her beauty—if it wasn’t for...

“Could you not grope my boobs like that?” I said flatly, utterly done.

She tilted her head, like a puppet with tangled strings.

“Oh? A Nen? Why am I on top of you?” she asked, and then, as if this was a totally normal thing to do, she pressed on my chest again. “So... squishy.”

“Are we seriously having a bonding moment while you squish me like a decorative pillow? Get off, creep!”

Discomfort crawled up my spine like a sheet of ice. I squirmed under her, praying this didn’t get any weirder.

And because the universe hates me...

“Miss Nen, you still haven’t told me your name!” Elion’s voice rang out.

He froze mid-step, honey-gold eyes wide as saucers, staring at the scene in front of him: me, on the floor, being “hugged” by this chick.

“Clementine?” he whispered, completely thrown.

Well. Shit.

For a moment, I held my breath. Maybe—just maybe—things couldn’t get any worse—

Pop.

That stupid little system window flashed in front of me, glowing with its annoyingly cheerful tone. The Protagonist System was back!

[Protagonist Mission: Fanservice time! Time left: 00:01:00]

I freaking hate this game...