"Child, we're unseating the most powerful family in the empire. Wear a thousand faces if you must — just make sure they never, ever see the real one."
-Horace Pryor to Rosanna Castus; Secret Route
***
For someone with the nerve to bully Viola Adelais, Isabella and her goons were…surprisingly docile.
The three of them sat at the other end of the room, looking all prim and proper that it put even Rosanna, the protagonist, into shame. It was almost hard to believe that they were the same people who threatened to get her kicked out of the Academy after that session in the disciplinary office — now, they wouldn't even spare Rosanna a glance, much less dare to breathe in her direction.
A huge part of her had expected the apology letter to be a farce — although, from whom, she had no idea. It only seemed too good to be true that these people would willingly lower themselves to someone like Rosanna, much actually showing remorse for their actions. She decided she would give it a few days before they showed their true colors. Maybe they didn't want any more witnesses, and this room was packed with students.
Behold the most prestigious Academy in the empire! At the very least, Rosanna was glad that she wasn't the only troublemaker. These nobles paraded themselves as masters of decorum and etiquette — look at them sharing the same punishment as a middle-class worker!
There was the sound of the door clicking open, and Rosanna had never seen so many people scramble to fix themselves so quickly. It reminded Rosanna of her old boss walking into the meeting room — how she and her co-workers magically rearranged themselves as they heard the sound of her heels digging through the posh carpet, death knolls ringing for executives who failed to meet the quarter's quota.
This time, it was the sound of a cane against the floor, each rhythmic tap matching its owner's footsteps. By the time it came to a halt, each student have straightened up to match Isabella and her goons: all shedding their swagger to become the model students they were meant to be, out of respect to the institution…or fear from the man in front of them.
The Headmaster leveled the entire room with a steely gaze.
"Disappointments, all of you," He said, those gray eyes boring through the skull of every single person in the room. "I thought I took out the trash before all of you were even accepted, but I suppose some weeds still managed to sneak in."
Not a trace of the old man who drank whiskey in his office, Rosanna marveled. Now, this was the Headmaster that the game boasted about. Horace Pryor was finally in character!
The Headmaster then walked towards the far end of the first row, where a timid-looking boy almost seemed to jump up in his seat.
"You," a hand slammed the desk in front of him.
"Y-yes sir," the boy stammered out.
Having sat in the middle row, Rosanna couldn't tell the look on the Headmaster's face as he leaned down and whispered something to the boy. A moment of silence passed, and by the time the Headmaster had moved on to the next student, the boy had sunk to his knees and begun begging the Headmaster, tears streaming down his face.
"P-please, sir! Don't tell my parents! It was a mistake! It wasn't my fault—"
The Headmaster shot him another look, causing the kid to crumple back in his seat. The sniffles echoed in the silent room, giving the impression that something bigger was about to go down.
Rosanna shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Did she mention how much she hated crying kids?
"Everyone in this room has incurred some violation in the policies," The Headmaster began, tucking one hand behind his back. His gaze swept through every student in the room, including hers. "And as we all know, I refuse to have delinquents prowling through my beloved Academy."
Well said, she thought as if this man had any control over the Academy in the first place. Didn't he just admit how little influence he have a while back?
The Headmaster continued: "I don't care about your lineage. I'm sure all of you have heard — ranks don't matter here. I don't care if you're sons and daughters of alumni or royalty itself. You're here to be the best of the best. If you can't do that, then it's only within my discretion to kick you out myself."
Now get this: Rosanna used to have outstanding control of her facial expressions. As Amelia Sola, she had to maintain a complete poker face when navigating the office, especially when dealing with negotiations, crucial conversations, and one-on-one sessions with her subordinates. Amelia Sola climbed the ladder because she was able to keep her emotions and inner thoughts intact.
However, as Rosanna Castus, years of self-control seemed to fly out of the window as Amelia lifted the taper off a lifetime's worth of repressed emotions. Reconciling this Headmaster to the man who drank whiskey at 8 AM was simply too much — before she knew it, the nervousness had turned into a snort, loud enough to be heard by everyone.
"You'll all be coming back here until I consider your actions forgiven. Reflect, and make sure this is the last time I see your faces in this room. Because the next time you do, you're out."
The last part was spoken pointedly, punctuated with a loud, thump of the Headmaster's cane. Something flashed dark flashed in Headmaster's eyes, and that's how Rosanna knew that he was serious.
He left the room shortly after that, slamming the door behind him. No one spoke for the moments that followed, with the Headmaster's threat lingering in the air long after he was gone, like some sort of spell.
Now that was how you assert dominance, Rosanna noted in her mind, suddenly developing a semblance of respect for the Headmaster. It wasn't like Rosanna would ever face consequences, being the heroine of the story, but for one moment she legitimately felt that the Headmaster was indirectly threatening her to get her act straight.
But then again, what could he possibly do? Take it out on Rosanna's little brother?
"The Headmaster lives up to his reputation," one of the students whispered, too close for Rosanna to hear. "I hear he blacklists problematic students and their families for other schools."
"Like that Josephine girl…from Frausia?" Another one asked.
"Oh, the one with the bribery."
"Didn't the Mirandes do the same?"
"No, I have a friend in the same class as him. They say he's the real deal. Sebastian from the Verdes, on the other hand…"
Someone elbowed the student before they finished the sentence, causing them to gasp in pain. In front of them, another professor entered the room, carrying a stack of papers.
The whole class groaned — all except Rosanna, who had no idea what was going on.
"To make good use of your time, all of you will be writing reflection papers to be archived in the Hall of Diligence," the professor said, passing down the stack of papers to be distributed to everyone. "You will be writing reflections every day of the week until the Headmaster deems that you've repented enough. Is that clear?"
The entire class muttered their assent, albeit reluctantly.
Rosanna raised a hand.
"Yes, Miss…?"
"Rosanna Castus."
Somewhere around them, Isabella Kolm and her goons gave a pointed cough at the professor. From the corners of her eyes, she could've sworn that they were warning the professor not to engage with her, desperately flapping their arms around in a gesture of 'don't acknowledge her.
The professor cleared his throat. "Yes, Miss Castus?"
"We can write anything on our reflection papers, right?"
"Yes."
"They won't be considered legally binding. I can write anything," she repeated, emphasizing the last part.
"…yes?"
Rosanna smiled, leaving the whole class (and the professor) a little confused as to how a mere student can find this so amusing. In his mind, the professor thought young Rosanna to be just another spoiled troublemaker — and she was.
Initially, Rosanna planned to fuck around and find out the Headmaster's limits. Finding out how far the protagonist's halo extended was the most basic survival tactic, if she ever hoped to piece the puzzle that is Rosanna Castus' secret plans before dying.
The professor rearranged his papers, finally addressing the whole class. "With that in mind, I want you all to get one piece of paper and start working. Today's topic is about the feasibility of breaking the market monopoly in the capital city…"
The entire class groaned again, while Rosanna sat up straighter, finally interested.
***
"How was detention, Miss Castus?" Vincent asked.
Rosanna had found him perched outside the building, beaming. For a moment she almost thought he had been waiting for her until Rosanna remembered: he was a royal guard. A personal attendant of the Crown Prince who, for some reason, severely distrusted her.
So maybe rattling off his entire character arc on the first day of classes was a bad move. But the original Rosanna Castus played the Crown Prince's heart like a fiddle, and somehow Amelia was still the bad one?
She scoffed. "I didn't do anything questionable if that's what you're asking."
Vincent only laughed at this — a soft, carefree sound that rang across the clearing. "That's most unfortunate, Miss Castus. And here I was looking forward if anything interesting happened."
"Sorry to disappoint you, then." Rosanna shot back easily. "I'll make sure you have something good to report to His Highness."
At the mention of the Crown Prince, the royal guard's expression visibly soured.
"I have a funny story, Miss Castus. Remember how His Highness was supposedly asking for me earlier?"
"Yes?"
"As it turns out, that was a ruse." He smiled at Rosanna, so amiable and harmless that it seemed as though he was embarrassed by having fallen for such a trick. "That butler sure has many tricks up his sleeve, does he?"
Rosanna tried to hide her surprise at that little bit of information. Leo had made it plenty clear that he came at his lady's orders — there was no need to get rid of Vincent.
"That he does," Rosanna agreed, laughing nervously.
Vincent paused in his tracks. "What do you think of him, Miss Castus?"
"Excuse me?"
"The butler. Miss Leonardo Cassius."
Rosanna's mind froze for a moment. She'd written an in-depth analysis about the possible complexities of Leo's character in the online forums, upvoted by that one user who keeps begging for a Leo route. The butler-slash-silent protector type held a certain kind of charm, both of them agreed, but his types were only ever compatible with the object of their devotion, namely his mistress, Viola.
Amelia wouldn't lie and say that she wasn't interested. In the game, Leo would grow up to be quite the dashing young man, and Amelia found him pitiful — forever chasing the villainess who only ever had eyes for the Crown Prince. Had she transmigrated into Viola's body, then perhaps…
"Uh, Miss Castus?" Vincent prompted, waving a hand in front of her face.
"We-uh, go a long way," Rosanna stammered. Technically, it was true. She'd known him in all 20 routes. "He's very devoted! Loyal to a fault, too."
The royal guard remained silent. Rosanna took it as a signal to keep talking.
"He's…uh…extremely fond of Viola, as you can see. He'd do anything for her," Rosanna spoke fondly, reminiscing about Leo's unhinged moments in-game. Sure, maybe he tried to kill Rosanna one time in cold blood. On Oz's route, the guy had helped Viola sabotage Rosanna's entry into the Summer Festival and fueled the flames when Rosanna got involved in a cheating incident.
He purposely supported Rosanna and the Crown Prince too, ultimately crushing his lady's chances with Damian. Sure, maybe that was underhanded of him, but for a fictional character….
"It's actually kind of sweet." Rosanna blurted out, surprised at her own words.
It took her a while before she realized that Vincent was watching her, probably running a human version of a lie detector test just to see if she was talking bullshit. Unfortunately for him, Rosanna never lied about all things related to Viola. It was sweet because, in real life, no sane person could possibly dedicate themselves to another the way Leo did to his lady.
"I see," was all Vincent said. He continued walking, determination set on his shoulders as he'd just figured out the keys to…whatever it was he had been looking for.
Rosanna caught up to him, confused. "I…um, what exactly are you seeing?"
"Nothing, Miss Castus," Vincent assured her. "Just—let me be the one to escort you from now on, okay?"
He must think that she and Leo were working together in some scheme against the Crown Prince, or some other conspiracy theory of the sort. Rosanna truly wished he would just say it loud, instead of asking these roundabout, vague questions. Rosanna would be more than glad to prove him wrong, as would Leo.
After all, the only thing the two of them would ever agree on was that Viola Adelais deserved better.
As for the rest, well…
…that was history.
***
"Hey, Vincent?"
"Yes, Miss Castus?"
"I need your help," Rosanna whispered, twiddling with her fingers. "I…I'm looking for two people."
Vincent turned to face her, seemingly delighted at the thought of being asked. "Sure, Miss Castus! Tell me their names, and I'll help you look."
"They're not my friends," Leo had told Rosanna. "They shouldn't be yours either."
Rosanna put on her most demure expression for the royal guard.
"Have you heard of anyone named Sebastian Verde?"