Lucien stepped into the classroom, and the entire room fell into an eerie silence. Every eye turned toward him, filled with unmistakable hatred and disdain. The weight of their collective loathing was almost suffocating. He could feel his palms sweat.
[Host, congratulations on making such a dramatic entrance. I think they're about to throw you a welcome party… with pitchforks.]
"You're not helping," Lucien muttered under his breath.
[Oh, I'm sorry. Would you prefer I sugarcoat the fact that your death flag is waving more proudly than a national banner?]
Lucien groaned internally. He scanned the room and his eyes landed on Leon Albright. The protagonist of the anime. The one destined for greatness. The one currently gripping the hilt of his sword, eyes blazing with fury.
"Oh, crap," Lucien whispered.
[Yes, crap indeed. Should I start preparing your obituary?]
Just as Leon began to unsheath his sword, Cecilia Winslet—one of the heroines, the one who hated Lucien the most—placed a hand on Leon's shoulder. "It's a waste of your energy to use your sword on this pathetic creature," she said, her voice cold and dismissive.
Lucien should've felt offended. Instead, he was flooded with relief.
[Host, congratulations. You have survived… for now.]
Lucien resisted the urge to punch the air in victory.
But his joy was short-lived as the glares around the room intensified.
[Oh, you thought that was it? Cute. Your death flag is still very much flying.]
Lucien slumped into his seat, his mind racing. In the anime, wasn't this around the time the real Lucien died? He tried to remember that single episode his friend had forced him to watch. If he recalled correctly, the original Lucien's downfall came because he didn't let go of his obsession with Cecilia and arrogantly argued with Leon.
[So, what's the plan, Host? Beg for forgiveness? Declare your undying love? Maybe juggle flaming swords to distract them?]
"I hate you," Lucien muttered.
[I'm programmed to endure your hostility. Now, focus on not dying.]
Lucien sighed. It was going to be a very long day.
As the lecture began, Lucien did his best to shrink into his seat, avoiding eye contact. Every time Cecilia so much as shifted in her chair, he flinched.
[You know, Host, if you keep acting like a guilty criminal, they'll just assume you're plotting your next terrible move. Maybe try… I don't know, looking normal?]
"Define normal when everyone wants you dead," Lucien hissed.
[Not twitching like a cornered rat would be a start.]
Midway through class, a crumpled note landed on his desk. With trembling fingers, he unfolded it.
"Die."
Lucien's eyes widened.
[Ah, fan mail already! You're so popular.]
"Shut up," Lucien whispered furiously.
[If you're this beloved now, I can't wait to see how they celebrate your next mistake. Maybe a bonfire. You'll be the guest of honor.]
Lucien buried his face in his hands. This really was going to be the longest day of his life.