A black-haired boy, probably about my age(how old even are we), sat next to me. His uniform wasn't as crisp as mine, though his features were sharp and well-defined—handsome, as expected. He had that 'main character' aura, the kind that naturally attracted trouble and heroines alike.
He lifted a hand and pointed to himself, his brows furrowing.
"Me?" he asked, clearly confused.
Of course. Of course.
He was also as dumb as I expected.
Even though this might be a natural reaction, I still couldn't help but be disappointed.
Meanwhile, the invisible tension in the room thickened. The class, previously buzzing with murmurs, had fallen into an expectant silence, waiting for Emilia's answer.
She gave a small, hopeful nod. "Yes, you. Don't you remember me?"
I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands.
A deep, suffocating wave of secondhand embarrassment hit me like a truck.
This is bad. This is so bad.
The classic childhood friend reunion trope—a staple in countless stories.
If the boy failed to respond correctly, this could lead to a misunderstanding arc. If he did recognize her (which he probably wouldn't), then the entire class would instantly see him in a new light.
I was right next to him.
I could already predict a possible secondary disaster.
The well-known "sitting problem", or more simply 'heroine wants to sit with the protagonist' situation.
According to what I know and given her noble-sounding name and appearance, Emilia was probably a high-ranking lady. She might—no, she would—request a specific seat arrangement.
That meant someone would be asked to move.
And I was that unlucky soul sitting closest to the protagonist.
A lamp lit up in my head.
There was a way to solve this before it became a disaster.
I calmly raised my hand.
"Miss?" I called out.
The teacher, who had been watching the exchange with mild curiosity, turned to me.
"If Miss Emilia is familiar with classmate, may I switch to the seat by the window?" I gestured casually to the empty desk beside me. "It might be more comfortable for her."
For a moment, the teacher considered my words. She seemed even surprised at my proposal.
Emilia, too, blinked in surprise.
Then, a soft smile tugged at her lips.
"That would be wonderful," she said, nodding gracefully.
The teacher gave a small approving nod. "That seems reasonable. Go ahead."
Grabbing my things, I slid into the new seat without hesitation, effectively dodging all possible disasters.
- No forced interaction.
- No awkward seating conflicts.
- No unnecessary entanglements.
I had successfully sidestepped the first scenario.
Because as soon as I sat down—
A new message appeared.
[Hidden Condition Achieved: Smooth Operator.]
- You have skillfully altered the event without breaking it. Your method has been acknowledged.
Continue shaping the narrative in your own way.
I stared at the message.
...What the hell does that mean?
Is it telling me I did good?
I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus.
Whatever that weird message meant, I could think about it later. Right now, there was a class to get through.
Emilia already took her seat to my right, her 'noble' aura radiating like a halo. The moment she sat down, the teacher, ever professional, addressed the class.
"Now then," she said, "as you all know, the new term started just two weeks ago. That means student Emilia won't have too much trouble adapting to our curriculum."
She paused briefly, her gaze flickering over the room before resting on me for the slightest second—too quick for most to notice, but just enough to make my instincts sharpen.
It was gone as soon as it came.
"However," she continued smoothly, turning back to Emilia, "the books and materials for your subjects may take a week to arrive. Until then, you'll have to manage without them."
Emilia nodded with a composed smile. "That won't be a problem, Miss. I can use my friend's books for now."
I felt a twinge of secondhand embarrassment before she even finished speaking.
I glanced at the protagonist beside her.
This was another one of those scenarios. The "sharing textbooks with the protagonist" trope—one of the classics.
Again, it was a staple in romcoms, fantasy settings, and pretty much any school-based story where the heroines needed an excuse to interact with the male lead.
Would they end up leaning in too close? Would their hands accidentally brush? Would she giggle at something while the protagonist remained oblivious to the atmosphere?
The possibilities were endless.
Suppressing a sigh, I turned my attention back to the teacher.
"Very well," she said. "Class, be sure to help Miss Emilia settle in. That will be all for now." With that, she gathered her notes and left the classroom.
The moment the door clicked shut, it began.
A group of students—mostly girls—immediately swarmed my former desk.
"Miss Emilia, it's a pleasure to meet you!"
"You're from House Aveline, right? I've heard a lot about your family!"
"You really know him? Since childhood? That's amazing!"
The protagonist, on the other hand, looked a little overwhelmed by the sudden attention but remained relatively composed. He responded to a few questions with polite confusion while Emilia smiled gracefully, answering with the ease of someone used to social interactions.
I let out an internal sigh, grateful that I was just a background character in all of this.
No forced interactions. No awkward relationship problems. No involvement in whatever cringe-inducing romance events would undoubtedly occur in the future.
I had successfully dodged a disaster.
Still, I wasn't just going to ignore everything. Even if I had zero interest in participating, it didn't mean I wouldn't listen. Information was everything.
And right now, aside from this... massive knowledge, I had nothing else to work with.
So, I leaned back, feigning disinterest, and simply listened.
However, it was also cut short quickly.