Chapter 8 Break the Script
The Academy had a new rule.
Or maybe an old one, recycled just for me:
I learned this about twelve minutes after stepping into the courtyard and breathing too loudly near the sword-fountain.
A dramatic NPC—Sword Captain No. 4, I think—pointed a gleaming rapier at me and declared, "For the crime of narrative interference, I demand satisfaction!"
Normally, that's when a prompt would appear:
But this time?
A third option shimmered beneath them like forbidden candy:
And with a very satisfying smirk, I pressed it.
"Denied," I said.
The system sputtered.
The NPC froze mid-lunge, sword still glowing.
"I don't duel," I said, walking past him. "I file complaints."
The crowd gasped.
One girl fainted. A hedge caught fire.
Someone started slow clapping and then stopped because no one else joined.
It felt amazing.
Unfortunately, the high didn't last.
Because later that day, I found myself staring down a much scarier opponent.
The Heroine.
She was waiting for me in the third-floor music corridor, where sad students go to have feelings near pianos.
"Verenia," she said, soft but sharp. "We need to talk."
I leaned against the windowsill. "Is this a conversation or a confrontation?"
"I'm not sure yet," she said. "You... took my story."
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't realize it was still on the shelf."
Her hands balled into fists. "I was meant to be the one who changed them. The princes. The world. Even the villainess—you."
"Well," I said, "surprise twist: I changed me first."
She hesitated.
Then she asked the one thing I didn't expect.
"Are you happy?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Here. Being... you."
"No one's ever asked me that before."
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Me neither."
And just like that, I didn't hate her anymore.
I just... pitied her.
Because she'd been trapped in a cage of sparkle and destiny and never even realized.
"I don't know if I'm happy," I said. "But I know I'm not going back."
And just as the system registered that shift—
He showed up.
A ripple.
A glitch.
A voice, unsteady but real.
"Verenia."
It was Bug he wasn't glitching but was cracked.
Like something inside him was barely holding together.
And in his voice, layered under the system distortion, was something broken and human.
"Do you remember my name?" he asked.
I opened my mouth but stopped.
Because... he never told me his real name.
He'd always been "Bug."
A placeholder. A problem. A patch. Like me.
But now he was looking at me with golden eyes flickering between knowing and lost.
And in that moment, I realized—
This wasn't just about saving me anymore.
This was about saving us.