"...Idiot," I muttered under my breath.
But I didn’t really mean it.
Ryen just gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his head.
I let out a long sigh.
Well, what else could I expect?
That was just how he was.
In the original novel, Ryen was always this... infuriatingly earnest white knight. The kind who genuinely believed there was always a reason behind people’s worst actions. That if you just helped them fix their problems, they could become better.
Naive?
Yeah.
But it was written into his very core. Literally. The character setting book had an entire page about how he couldn’t tolerate injustice. He wouldn’t hesitate to beat up villains who hurt civilians—but killing them? Nah. He’d stop short of that. Always.
So no, this wasn’t a plot hole.
It was just... him.
And it made things complicated.
"You don’t have to hold yourself back," I told him. "Do whatever you think is right."
"Huh? Really?" His eyes widened a little.
"...Why do you sound so surprised?"
Ryen looked almost sheepish. "Honestly, Rin, I thought you were the type to hold a grudge. I mean... after what happened in the cafeteria."
...He wasn’t wrong.
If this were any other situation, I absolutely would’ve made Kiera’s life a living nightmare.
But Leo had already taken care of that.
Not that he ordered anyone to do anything. He didn’t need to. Everyone in the academy already knew: getting close to Kiera meant getting on Leo’s bad side. And no one wanted that.
Leo didn’t even care if people talked to her or not. He wasn’t micromanaging anything.
To him, most people were like bugs—insignificant.
Unless he thought you were worth his time, you barely existed.
So even though this whole mess was technically his fault, he didn’t give a damn.
And honestly? I was fine with that.
I needed things to follow the original storyline.
If the plot fell apart now, my plan would crumble with it.
So Ryen had to play his role.
Heroic. Forgiving. Predictable.
"I don’t care what you do," I told him, feigning indifference. "Just follow your conscience or whatever."
He looked genuinely touched. "Thanks, Rin."
"Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome."
[The Oath of the Saint stirs in response to your choice.]
Wait. What now?
[For demonstrating the virtue of forgiveness, your recovery rate has slightly increased.]
...Again?
Seriously? Why was it always recovery rate?
I thought this system gave out random buffs, but no—every time I tried to be remotely decent, it gave me healing. Did it think I was constantly in need of emotional repair?
And more importantly—how was this considered a good deed?
I just told the main character he could defend the girl who tried to throw me under the bus.
...I mean. I guess that was kind of noble?
Still. The fact that this system thought I was some paragon of virtue made me want to scream.
"You’re a good guy," Ryen said suddenly.
I blinked. "What?"
He just smiled at me.
Oh, come on.
Everyone in this world was misunderstanding me.
I’m not a good person.
I’m not forgiving.
I’m just trying to survive and not screw up the plot too badly!
Seriously—someone save me from my own reputation.
---
After that emotional detour with Ryen, I figured I’d earned a break.
Maybe some peace and quiet. Something easy.
But of course, peace was a luxury I never seemed to have.
As soon as Ryen left to meet up with Leona and Nora for their joint class, I headed back toward the dorm.
A nap sounded good. Or maybe just lying on my bed and staring dramatically at the ceiling. Either option worked.
Unfortunately, fate—or more likely, the damn plot—had other plans for me.
As I turned the corner near the training hall, I saw someone standing alone, half-hidden by the wall.
Kiera.
She didn’t say anything at first.
Just stood there, head bowed, arms folded tight across her chest like she was holding herself together.
She looked worse than she had this morning.
Her short red hair hung messily over her face. Her uniform was wrinkled, and the dark circles under her eyes said she hadn’t slept in a while.
It wasn’t hard to guess what was going on.
Someone was probably bullying her.
And it seemed like... she couldn’t handle the pressure anymore.
She flinched when she noticed me.
Then her expression twisted into something fragile—guilt mixed with fear. Like she thought I was about to lash out at her. Scream. Say something cruel.
And the sad part was, I probably could have.
But I didn’t.
I just walked past her.
No words. No glares. No judgment.
I thought that would be the end of it.
But then she said it—barely above a whisper.
"Loser."
I stopped.
Again with that?
She never learns.
Then a second question, quieter this time.
"...Do you hate me?"
What a stupid question.
I turned slightly, just enough to see her out of the corner of my eye.
She wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her fists were clenched, knuckles pale.
Her eyes shimmered, glassy but dry.
Somehow, that made her look even more breakable.
"Kiera," I said, my voice low and steady. "Do you really think I don’t have the right to hate you?"
She bit her lip—hard. Like she already knew the answer but wanted to pretend she didn’t.
I didn’t wait for a response.
I started walking again.
But after a few steps, I said, without turning around—
"Whether I hate you or not doesn’t matter."
Silence.
"The people you hurt—me, others...
That’s not something you get to erase with guilt. You should be asking yourself if you’re even worth forgiving."
Still no reply.
Just the soft echo of my footsteps on the path. And her breathing—quiet, uneven.
For the first time since this whole mess started, I didn’t feel angry.
Didn’t feel victorious either.
Just... tired.
[The Oath of the Saint quietly observes your restraint.]
No loud notification this time.
Thank god.
I glanced back one last time.
She was still there, unmoving, barely holding herself together.
She looked like she was about to break all over again—just like yesterday.
But this time, she held it in.
Barely.
I’d made my stance clear.
I wasn’t out for revenge. I wasn’t going to play hero or villain.
But I wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t hurt either.
And with that, I kept walking.