After returning to his dorm, Vivian collapsed onto his bed, fresh from a quick bath.
His hair was still damp, strands sticking to his forehead as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
The room was quiet, yet his mind was anything but.
Thoughts clashed and tangled in turmoil, confusion weighing heavy on him. With a weary sigh, he called out in his head.
Status window.
Name: Vivian D. Zenithara
Age: 15
Condition: Seriously Ill
Stats
Strength: 30
Agility: 25
Immunity: 4
Mana Capacity: 50
Charm: 80
Mana Core: 4 Stars
"It's been a while since I checked this…" he muttered under his breath. His gaze lingered on the glowing screen.
He had received rewards after completing the last quest, 'Catching the Eye' but since then, no new quests had appeared. No challenges. No rewards.
A sigh slipped out again, heavier this time.
'Though the immunity stat was working, I can now cultivate for about 1.3 hours, which was… how many times? Two? Three? Five? It was roughly thirty minutes longer than what I used to manage.' He concluded .
But it had been two months since any quest appeared. If this continued, his illness would finish him before he could accumulate enough immunity points.
He hadn't had a seizure since the arena, true, but if he couldn't cure this, everything would be a mess.
And leaving all of that aside, the most confusing part was still the characters from his own novel.
The supposed main heroine wasn't even at the academy, not that it mattered too much, since the main storyline wasn't supposed to begin until six or seven years later.
But everything else… everything outside that single detail… was completely different from what he had written.
The so-called villainess wasn't evil. Marinate, who was supposed to be close friends with the protagonist since their academy days, didn't even recognize him.
But the most baffling of all was the protagonist himself.
'Kafrik Tramplin.'
In the novel, he had been written as a beacon of honor and chivalry, a man who preached ideals higher than the clouds.
Yet here, in reality, he was nothing short of garbage.
After taking a humiliating beating from Vivian, Kafrik had fled to his family estate for several days. Nearly a month later, he returned to the academy, only to look even more pitiful than before.
When Vivian tried to approach him, instead of showing growth or resolve, Kafrik had spat insults at him and dismissed him outright.
'Fucking piece of trash.'
Vivian couldn't help but wonder if this world was even the same one he had written about.
In other transmigration novels he'd read, the author's predictions usually matched reality, close enough that the protagonist could manipulate events to gain benefits.
And sure, butterfly effects would always appear, but at least the foundation remained the same.
In his case, however, the world was already a mess before he'd even lifted a finger. There was nothing he could manipulate, nothing he could rely on.
His dream of manipulating everyone had gone straight down the drain, after all, he couldn't predict a thing.
And the harem he once fantasized about? Nowhere in sight.
Well… technically he had Charlotte and that lunatic Marinate, but he didn't feel the same attraction or love for Marinate as he did for Charlotte.
Though he didn't know the exact reason, he guessed that the original Vivian might be the reason as to why he doesn't feel the same affection towards Marinate.
And aside from these things, they were very different from typical heroines in novels—rather than blushing at his words, they made him blush.
Instead of being flustered by his presence, they flustered him.
And worst of all, if his words didn't match their liking, they wouldn't even let him finish a sentence.
Charlotte was already hard enough to deal with, calling him "honey this" and "honey that" whenever she pleased.
But Marinate was on an entirely different level.
She would wait until no one was watching, then do whatever she wanted: pressing close against him, rubbing her chest against his arm, even trying to steal a kiss while the professor's back was turned at the board.
She wasn't the shy, blushing supporting character he had once written. She was something far bolder, far more dangerous.
While lost in thought, Vivian finally changed into his nightclothes.
It was late, and his eyelids felt heavy, sleep seemed like the best idea.
He was just about to collapse onto the bed and surrender to rest when a sudden sound broke the quiet.
Knock! Knock!
His eyes snapped to the door, unease prickling at the back of his neck. 'At this hour? Who could it be?'
Only two possibilities came to mind: Charlotte or Marinate.
But Marinate's dorms were far from here, making it unlikely she'd show up so late.
That left only one reasonable guess—Charlotte.
He moved to the door and pulled it open.
As expected, it was Charlotte.
But the way she stood there was nothing like what he had imagined.
She leaned slightly forward, one hand braced against the wall, her loose hair cascading down in soft waves.
The purple silk sleepwear she wore clung to her form, its color perfectly matching the velvet hue of her hair and eyes.
Every detail of her appearance radiated allure, making her look utterly, dangerously seductive.
"Gulp…."
He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face until it felt like his head might burst. To his horror, a thin trickle of blood slid from his nose.
'Hot… she's too hot…' he mumbled in his mind, quickly wiping the nose bleed away with the back of his hand. His voice stumbled out, broken and shaky.
"Ch–Charlotte… wh–why are you here at this hour?"
Charlotte only gave him a slow, knowing smile, her eyes glimmering with mischief.
She extended her hand toward him, fingers graceful and inviting.
"Honey," she whispered, her tone dripping with allure, "would you take my hand? Just like you did when you escorted me to the horse cart…"
Not daring to defy her, Vivian clasped her hand and gently guided her inside before shutting the door.
Charlotte moved with casual grace, seating herself on his bed.
She crossed one leg over the other, her smooth skin catching his gaze and sending another hot rush straight to his face.
Another stream of blood trickled from his nose.
He wiped it away quickly, forcing his voice to sound calm. "Wh–why are you here at this hour?" He was careful, very careful, to keep his tone neutral. Anything that even hinted at rejection would surely earn him a slap.
Charlotte tilted her head, lips curving into a faint smile. "I heard something… from Grandfather, when we were bidding him farewell." She paused, and for the first time, a blush crept onto her cheeks, as though just recalling it was enough to fluster her.
Vivian froze. His face drained of color. He knew exactly what she must have overheard, Grandfather's whispered remark about wanting a few great-grandchildren from the two girls.
"So," Charlotte said softly, her voice dripping with mischief, "I thought I'd fulfill his wish. What do you say, honey? Shall we make a few children?"
As she spoke, she tugged lightly at the hem of her nightdress, lifting it just enough to send Vivian's blood pressure and nosebleed into overdrive.
He struggled to maintain composure, ready to reason with her, but before he could form a single word, she suddenly leaned in and pressed her lips against his.
For the first time.
The warmth of her soft lips sent his mind spiraling into chaos, a bright blankness flooding through him.
His body froze, his eyes rolled slightly in shock, and yet, deep in his heart, a surge of happiness bloomed.
'Thank you, Grandfather… he thought feverishly. I'll finally lose my virginity today!'
But his joy turned to horror in an instant. Charlotte's lips pulled away, leaving only a fleeting warmth behind. She didn't go any further.
Vivian sat there, shocked and disappointed all at once.
Charlotte only gave him a playful wink before leaning close and whispering, "If we make children this soon, before marriage, wouldn't that be… inappropriate? Right? So, we'll proceed further once we're married."
With those teasing words, she didn't linger another second. Turning gracefully, she walked out of his room.
On the surface, she appeared composed, confident even.
But deep inside, her heart was pounding like a drum.
It was her very first kiss on the lips, and the heat on her cheeks betrayed the storm inside her.
By the time she reached her room, she was practically running, unable to contain the rush of emotions.
Meanwhile, Vivian stood frozen on the spot, staring blankly at the empty air where Charlotte had been only moments ago. His mind spun in circles.
'Why…? Why stop there?'
'Weren't we basically married already?'
Then a spark lit in his eyes. 'Yes! Father… I'll tell Father to arrange the marriage right away. Once we're married, I can finally… finally move forward!'
The thought filled him with sudden determination. 'Yes, this is a good plan. After midterms are finished, I'll talk to him. Definitely!'
Vivian, of course, didn't think too deeply about the matter. To him, it was nothing more than a budding romance between himself and Charlotte.
But if Marinate were to find out, she would surely recognize it for what it truly was, a masterstroke.
And in truth, Charlotte herself knew exactly what she was doing. When Grandfather had voiced his desire for 'a few great-grandchildren' from the two girls, it was as good as acknowledging them both.
Yet Charlotte could not accept sharing her beloved with anyone.
So, instead of waiting for Vivian to decide, she seized the initiative and made her move.
Truly… a masterstroke.