Emmett D'Arden looked exactly like the author had described him, just not the way he was supposed to seem.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and unfairly handsome, but different from the aggressiveness of Damien.
His features were sharp but not harsh, softened by a natural sort of warmth that made him seem almost approachable… almost.
If not for the earlier incident, Naomi might have believed it.
However, that face had only given her another thing to worry about.
The moment the car rolled deeper into the academy grounds, she felt her temples throb.
The second male lead was meant to be a charismatic playboy—smooth, flirtatious, annoyingly charming in a way that made readers giggle and had the innocent female lead blush like a tomato.
He was supposed to be the anchor for bullied Anya whenever Damien went too far with his schemes.
Not the half-dressed, kiss-marked lunatic blocking cars on a private road.
How did he manage to derail his own first appearance this badly…?
She shook her head as she stepped inside her room.
Anya's voice vaguely lingered in her ears. Something about the food and navels?
Naomi ignored the useless chatter and went to the bathroom.
Taking a bath with her bound arm was nothing short of a hassle. Luckily, she was healing well, and her cast would soon be removed.
But no matter how she tried to distract herself, her mind kept circling back to the novel.
Two major characters in one day.
Two.
This wasn't just a butterfly effect anymore. It was a goddamn hurricane.
The first meet-up of the heroine and the second male lead was a "cool senior rescues the bullied heroine from a minor accident" type of scene, not "Lecherous senior makes out with heiress until traffic stops."
And worse—far worse—they had run into Killian earlier, the villain so dangerous that the author thought that if he entered the arc early, the world would end.
Killian wasn't even supposed to appear for another year and a half—not until Anya was trapped as Damien's nominal girlfriend.
It was a mess already.
Shaking her head, she moved back to the living room.
The moment she sat on the sofa, she pressed her fingers against her forehead.
The throbbing was getting worse.
"Why is everything going off-script…?"
The novel plot line was her biggest advantage. If that changed too much, she would have almost nothing to rely on.
Sure enough, it was better to make money as soon as possible.
"Hmm?" Anya hummed absently without lifting her gaze.
She was sitting with her legs curled on the seat, scrunching her tiny nose as she scrolled through her gallery.
Her biggest concern at the moment? Selecting a selfie to post on social media.
Naomi stared at her blankly.
They nearly hit the second male lead in the middle of a steamy make-out session, the ultimate villain had already made an unexpected early entrance, and the plot was veering into uncharted madness…
Meanwhile, the female lead was still debating between a pouty pose and a V-sign.
"They all look bad," Anya muttered, zooming into one shot. "My hair looks weird here. And in this one, my eyes look smaller. And this one—ugh, my face is too pale."
Naomi: "..."
If obliviousness were power, Anya could conquer kingdoms.
A twinge of envy twisted in Naomi's chest before she could stop it.
To be so carefree… to have worries that began and ended with which picture to upload… To live inside a story where the world bent to protect you simply because you were its heroine…
Naomi lowered her gaze.
Must be nice.
She looked at her dull screen, which only showed the messages from his assistant.
There was no call from her parents. A feeling of emptiness spread inside her ribcage, expanding toward her heart.
"Naomi."
A sudden call brought her back to her senses. She tilted her head to look at the heroine.
Anya's bright eyes looked confused as she turned the phone toward her, "Which one do you think makes me look pretty? This one? Or this one?"
Both pictures were equally fluffy and equally unnecessary.
But Naomi still pointed to the picture with better lighting.
"…This one."
"Really? Yay!" Anya beamed, tapping rapidly. "Okay, posted!"
The doorbell rang, and Naomi was quick to open it.
"Boss," Sam showed a polite smile to his Superior. "Here, these files need your signatures."
A pile of folders fell onto Naomi's raised hands.
While she showed no extra emotion to the handsome young man with dimples, Anya's wide eyes kept glancing at him. Like a curious little kitten.
Sam, equally curious, waved at her, making Anya excitedly wave back.
This was the first time she had seen a real assistant. And her teenage roommate was the big boss.
The big boss opened the file, scanned the content inside, and then gave a subtle nod.
"Hmm. Collect them in the morning before class."
Really like a big boss.
So cool!
Ignorant of the admiration shining inside Anya's eyes, Naomi calmly sent the assistant back before returning to her room.
She had to read all of these to make a final decision. Only then would the buying process start.
Her pen hovered over the signature line when her phone chimed.
A different ringtone from her usual one. Just the sound of it made her nerves tense.
Mother.
A title hung on her screen in bold letters.
When the ring was halfway through, she answered it, pressing the phone to her ear.
For a brief second, no one spoke until a soft voice called to her.
"Naomi?"
"Mother."
Did my mother find out about my injury? Is she worried? Will she scold me?
Many such questions swirled inside her, making her chest heavy. Yet she couldn't bring herself to say anything, silently waiting.
"Meet me after school this Sunday."
Before Naomi could agree to the order, the phone beeped, indicating the end of the call.
All of a sudden, the pain in her shoulder flared up, making her jaw clench.