Chris woke with the taste of dust in his mouth.
It was not unpleasant just dry, heavy, real. He lay still, listening to the slow rhythm of his breath, to the faint hum of magic in the walls around him. Stone pressed beneath his back, cool and solid, and for a brief moment he thought he had fallen asleep on the floor somewhere strange.
Then he opened his eyes.
A ceiling of pale marble greeted him, etched with arcane circles that glowed softly, pulsing like a living thing. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, catching specks of dust in the air. This was not his room.
His body moved before panic could set in. He sat up, steady, unshaken, too calm for someone who should have been afraid. His hands were rough, stronger than he remembered, fingers bearing faint traces of dried earth.
A mirror stood nearby.
He rose and looked.
The face staring back at him was unfamiliar in the way crowds were unfamiliar. Average, forgettable, impossible to describe in detail. Dark black hair. Neutral eyes. However upon closer inspection, his features had a subtle charm to them. His black hair was parted down the center, long enough to brush his cheeks as it fell in loose, straight curtains. It framed his face gently, softening his sharp features while hiding his expression just enough to keep his thoughts unreadable. He was of average height, his build slightly lean but quietly well-formed, muscles shaped by use rather than display. There was no obvious strength to draw attention, yet the way he carried himself suggested control and balance. His eyes were calm and dark, holding no obvious intensity at first glance. They observed rather than demanded attention, steady and patient, as though he preferred to listen before he spoke. Only if one looked closely would they notice the quiet sharpness behind them, the kind that missed very little and revealed even less.
"Chris," he said aloud.
The name settled into him naturally, like it had always been there. Memories followed. Not crashing, but layering. A modest noble household. A magic academy ruled by lineage and reputation. Earth magic flowing through his veins.
And beneath it all, another life.
"Hiroshi". His name in his previous life. The breakup came back to him last. Not dramatic. Just… final. Karen's irritation more pronounced than her sadness. The way she had looked at him as though he were a problem she couldn't solve.
He looked at his surroundings, he recognized it from somewhere. "The game", he murmured. An Otome game Karen used to play obsessively. Noble school. Romance routes. Magic.
Chris's stomach tightened.
"This world…"
Recognition settled like a weight.
"Why am I here?", he wondered. Before he could think about it. The loud voices caught his attention.
"She's lying."
"She always hated Celine."
"Look at her—so cold."
The voices were coming from the Courtyard.
Students gathered in a loose ring, voices overlapping, excitement sharpening the air. At the center stood a girl with Ash grey hair and violet eyes.
Celine. A rich merchants daughter. The main villainess.
She looked exactly as the game had depicted her. Small, beautiful, fragile in all the right ways. She was short, delicately built, yet undeniably voluptuous, in a way that felt intentional rather than accidental. Soft curves shaped her figure generously, her waist narrowing before flaring into full hips, her chest pronounced enough to draw the eye no matter how modestly she dressed.
Her beauty lay in contrast. A smooth, youthful face carried gentle features: rounded cheeks, soft lips that curved easily into a sweet smile, and eyes large enough to appear sincere at a glance. Her ash-gray hair was cut into a neat bob that brushed her neck, soft, bubbly and carefully styled to frame her face. It gave her a cute, glittering look that only added to her charm. Her eyes were a vivid violet, bright and captivating, often widened with an innocent expression. Yet when she held someone's gaze for too long, there was something unsettling beneath the beauty. An awareness that felt quietly superior. There was something inviting about her expressions, something that encouraged closeness, as though she were harmless, even vulnerable.
Her hands trembled as she spoke, shadow magic curling faintly at her feet like a living thing.
"I never wanted things to go this far," she said softly. "I only wished to clear the misunderstanding."
Her gaze lifted.
Across from her stood another girl.
Aurelia. The main heroine of this game. The daughter of the Army General of this country.
Aurelia had a composed, feminine presence shaped by discipline rather than softness. Her long blonde hair was kept straight and smooth, falling neatly down her back. Long legs and thick, powerful thighs gave her a grounded elegance, strength carried with quiet grace rather than bulk. Her figure was balanced and modest, with a decent bustline neither small nor big, unlike Celine's deliberate allure.
Her skin was clear and her sharp crimson eyes stood out vividly against her fair features. Calm, focused, and steady, like fire held carefully in check. A sword (rapier) rested at her hip, worn as naturally as a part of herself.
"I did nothing," Aurelia said.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Whispers spread immediately.
Chris watched Aurelia's face. He stood on the first floor of the school building, right beside the courtyard.
There was no calculation on her face. No panic. Just confusion, Sharp, aching confusion. Like someone realizing too late that honesty was the wrong language to speak.
Celine lowered her eyes, lips pressed together as if holding back tears. The three men besides her started to console her. Those were the three main love interests of this game, as Chris had remembered.
Suddenly, the bell rang. The crowd decided then.
It always did.
The spectacle had ended. Students dispersed, satisfied. Justice, they thought, had been served.
Aurelia remained.
She stood near the training grounds, sword planted in the dirt before her, hands resting atop it. Her shoulders were rigid, her gaze fixed on nothing at all.
Chris felt it then.
That quiet, crawling wrongness.
Not logic. Not memory. Instinct.
She wasn't acting. She was enduring.
No one else approached her, when even her supposed allies had left.
Chris ran down the building towards the courtyard.
"Lady Aurelia."
She turned instantly, hand flying to her sword out of instinct before she stopped herself.
"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked.
"I don't know," Chris said honestly. "I just felt something was wrong."
She scoffed faintly.
"Then you felt correctly. That's all."
"I don't know what happened," he continued. "I didn't see anything. I don't have proof."
She stiffened.
"But," he said, meeting her eyes steadily, "I believe you."
She turned away quickly.
"You shouldn't say that," she said quietly. "Belief without reason is dangerous.", she said still facing the other side.
He shrugged slightly.
"Maybe. But disbelief without reason is worse."
She didn't respond.
"I'm Chris," he added after a moment. "I'm not important. I won't be able to help much. But… you shouldn't be alone right now."
The wind stirred her hair.
Aurelia studied him then. Really studied him.
He wasn't important. She could tell that immediately.
And yet...
"…Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper.
Chris didn't know why he'd stepped forward. Didn't yet understand the shape of the board, or the shadow moving across it. But as he stood beside her, he knew one thing with quiet certainty: Something in this world was wrong. And for the first time since arriving here, he intended to pay attention.