The last thing Aizen remembered was choking on a stale convenience store rice ball, cursing his life choices as the fluorescent lights of his shoebox apartment flickered overhead. Now, he stood in a cathedral-like academy courtyard, sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows that depicted heroes and dragons locked in battle. The air smelled like lavender and arrogance.
*“Transmigration. Of course. Because my life wasn’t already a joke.”*
His reflection in a marble fountain confirmed two things: he was still himself—gaunt face, perpetually unimpressed eyebrows, the kind of posture that screamed “I’d rather be napping”—and he was wearing a uniform straight out of a Victorian fever dream. Gold embroidery coiled around his sleeves, and a crest pinned to his chest read *“Eclipsia Academy for the Arcane Elite.”*
A robotic voice chimed in his skull.
**[System Initializing…]**
**[Welcome, Player Aizen. Role: Side Character. Designation: Mob NPC #207.]**
**[Primary Objective: Survive the Main Storyline Without Altering Key Plot Events.]**
Aizen snorted. *“Mob NPC? Seriously? I die in the prologue or something?”*
**[Error: Character Awareness Detected. Adjusting Parameters…]**
Before he could demand answers, a crowd parted like the Red Sea, and *she* appeared.
---
**The Villainess:** Lady Seraphine de Vayne. Platinum hair cascaded down her back like molten silver, her eyes sharp as shattered amethysts. She floated past the gawking students, her lace-gloved hand gripping a blackthorn cane that crackled with violet lightning. Every step echoed with the weight of generational wealth and unchecked power.
“Move,” she commanded, and the mob scattered—except Aizen, too busy scowling at the System’s flickering interface.
Her cane slammed into the cobblestones, sparks grazing his cheek. “Do you lack ears, peasant? Or do you crave an early grave?”
Aizen met her gaze, deadpan. “Graves are overrated. I’m more of a ‘scatter my ashes in a 7-Eleven parking lot’ guy.”
The crowd gasped. Seraphine’s lips twitched—not in anger, but something far more dangerous: *interest.*
**[Warning: Villainess Favorability +1.]**
**[Fate Deviation: 0.2%]**
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*“Great. I’ve pissed off the final boss before lunch.”*
---
**The Heroine:** Enter Lillian Hart, the academy’s “Saintess.” Sunlight haloed her honey-blonde curls as she hurried forward, her porcelain face the picture of benevolent concern. “Lady Seraphine, please! There’s no need for violence.”
Aizen’s System flickered again.
**[Character Profile Unlocked: Lillian Hart. Role: Main Heroine. Hidden Trait: ???]**
Lillian touched his arm, her smile warm as a Hallmark card. “Are you hurt? Let me heal you!”
Her hands glowed gold, but Aizen jerked back. *“No thanks. I’ve seen enough anime to know where this leads.”*
Lillian blinked, her mask slipping for a heartbeat. Behind those doe eyes, something colder flickered—a chess player recalculating her board.
**[Heroine Favorability: -5.]**
**[Fate Deviation: 0.5%]**
---
**The Transmigrator:** Then came the wildcard. A girl with choppy blue hair and a uniform half-buttoned sprinted into the courtyard, skidding to a halt. “Wait! This wasn’t in the novel!”
Aizen’s System short-circuited.
**[ERROR: Foreign Entity Detected. Name: ???. Role: ???. Threat Level: ???]**
The girl locked eyes with him, panic and recognition warring on her face. “You—you’re not supposed to *talk back* to Seraphine! You’re just a mob character!”
Aizen raised an eyebrow. *“And you’re not supposed to break the fourth wall, but here we are.”*
The girl paled. *“Oh god, you’re* ***aware***?*”
---
**The Unseen Main Character:** Somewhere in the shadows, a figure watched—a boy with storm-gray eyes and a sword strapped to his back, his presence muted by a narrative that demanded he remain “hidden” until Chapter 5. His gaze lingered on Aizen, a puzzle he hadn’t anticipated.
---
Aizen’s first class? *“Intro to Getting Trampled by Plot Armor.”* The professor droned about mana cores and destiny, while Aizen scribbled in his notebook:
*1. Seraphine: Psycho with a cane. Probably into toxic relationships.*
*2. Lillian: Fake nice. Secretly runs a cult?*
*3. Blue Hair: Fellow transmigrator. Knows the story. Liability.*
*4. System’s broken. Use that.*
The System pinged.
**[Side Quest: Attend the Moonlight Gala Tonight.]**
**[Reward: ???]**
**[Penalty for Refusal: Death by ‘Accidental’ Balcony Fall.]**
Aizen crumpled the note. *“Ah. The classic ‘do-or-die’ social event. How original.”*
That night, the gala was a masquerade of silk and secrets. Seraphine held court atop a staircase, her mask a twisted silver raven. Lillian danced with the academy’s crown prince, her laughter a wind chime in a hurricane. The blue-haired girl—Mira, he’d learned—nervously adjusted her owl-shaped mask near the punch bowl.
Aizen leaned against a pillar, nursing a drink that tasted like liquefied regret. *“Just survive, huh? Watch the story play out. Don’t rock the boat.”*
Then he saw it: Seraphine’s cane, glowing faintly as she whispered to a hooded servant. A memory from the “original” novel surfaced—a poisoned chalice meant for Lillian, a catalyst for Chapter 3’s betrayal arc.
Mira appeared at his side, trembling. “You have to stop her! If Seraphine poisons Lillian tonight, the whole story spirals!”
Aizen swirled his drink. “And?”
“*And?* People could die!”
“People die in Crossy Road too. Doesn’t mean I quit playing.”
Mira gaped. “You’re a monster.”
He shrugged. “I’m an NPC. Monsters are your department, ‘hero.’”
But as Seraphine descended the stairs, chalice in hand, Aizen’s fingers twitched. *Why care?* This wasn’t his story. His role was to fade into the background, to let the “main characters” shine.
Yet—
*The System had glitched when he’d talked back. When he’d* ***chosen***.
He crushed his glass.
“...Screw it.”
Aizen intercepted Seraphine, snatching the chalice mid-offer. “Nice try, Princess Poison Ivy. But this vintage’s got a *bite*, doesn’t it?”
The room froze. Seraphine’s smile turned lethal. “You overstep, peasant.”
“And you’re boring.” He drained the chalice in one gulp, ignoring Mira’s shriek. The poison burned like hellfire, but the System blared:
**[Unique Trait Unlocked: ‘Mob Resilience’ (Passive). Nullifies All Status Effects for 10 Seconds.)]**
He smirked through the pain. “See? Harmless.”
Seraphine’s composure cracked, her cheeks flushing with fury—and something like exhilaration. Lillian watched from the shadows, her saintly smile now a knife’s edge.
And the System?
**[Fate Deviation: 3.1%]**
**[Congratulations! You Are No Longer a Mob.]**