For a boy to get dumped by a girl is a sad event—naturally, he would receive some comforting words from his friends.
However, when the number rises to two girls, the situation changes. Apart from the closest friends, most would think the boy is a total scumbag.
And now? The number has doubled and doubled again, transforming the entire nature of the situation.
Even the instigator didn't anticipate this. Her original intention was to make the girls back off—but as the saying goes: "Knowing the tiger is there, still venture into the tiger's lair."
Curiosity can kill the cat, and young witches are no exception—there are always some bold ones.
Although Allen spent that evening alone during dinner under the concerned gazes of others, the next morning, he was woken up by his roommates shaking him—yes, supposedly he should have been devastated.
Hermione, after completing a grand performance, had retreated to the camp with the others. Allen wanted to confront her, but during confinement, he definitely didn't have the courage to storm in front of the professors—this would have been a serious disciplinary violation.
Groaning, Allen reluctantly opened his eyes, pointing a finger at the one pushing him:
"Marshall—if you don't stop, I swear, you won't speak for the rest of today!"
Though it was just a finger and not a wand, the threat was still effective—they had all witnessed Allen cast a spell from the Ugandan wizard academy using just one finger.
A pile of letters whoosh landed directly on the bed, while Marshall quickly turned and fled, leaving no chance for Allen to carry out his threat.
Cold parchment covered Allen's face, momentarily blocking his vision and fully waking him—no more sleep for now.
He grabbed a letter at random and froze—a love letter without a signature, asking him to meet at dusk in a certain garden.
Instinctively, he opened another—similar tone, but the location changed to a small grove.
Scanning through a few more, all were almost identical. Allen held his forehead—what is going on?
After last night, he thought his single life would remain unshakable for a while. Yet now, the situation was completely unexpected—he had received such overwhelming attention?
Could it be a trap? Like when he sent Lockhart to the hospital?
No, that couldn't be it—some letters had signatures, and the handwriting differed. Even if it were a setup, who would go through such trouble to fake multiple letters with different handwriting and tones to construct such a clumsy trap?
Then the biggest shock hit—could these letters actually be real?
Allen couldn't help but gain a new understanding of life's ups and downs…
——
Of course, the letters were real. Life is full of illusions.
A boy who can handle the attention of eight girls, besides being called a scumbag, naturally inspires curiosity. And would you not gain confidence in your own charm, thinking you could tame this wild horse?
Those confident enough are, unsurprisingly, quite numerous. Although their eventual outcomes could be as dramatic as the "reversal and counterattack" Allen once experienced, the thought wave itself was enough to shock the dormmates—Allen included.
When he appeared holding the pile of letters, the others were anxious to know what he intended. A whole pile of letters—what was going on? Naturally, they were curious.
Allen picked a few unsigned letters, casually erased the addresses of the last meeting spots with a flick of his finger, and handed them over.
The others didn't hesitate and quickly flipped through them. Moments later, their faces were all stunned.
"Allen—you got love letters?"
Allen, expressionless, nodded. The others exchanged looks—could it be… all of them?
Not yet—they had only seen the ones he showed.
Sheon swallowed hard, throat dry:
"Wait, Allen, you mean… these, all of them?"
Allen's first instinct was to deny it, but the words slipped out by habit, scaring the remaining three.
"That's right—all of them. I skimmed through; no important letters," Allen said flatly—he'd already been shocked; now he was showing off.
If you don't show off, what's the difference from being a salted fish?
After all, last night, his friends had comforted him while secretly laughing. Though the events were worthy of laughter—and even Allen almost chuckled—it didn't mean he didn't plan to reclaim the scene. He just hadn't expected this outcome.
Undoubtedly, the intimidation factor from the letters was massive—but Allen had no intention of meeting anyone.
What kind of international joke is this? I don't even know them. Why go?
If it had been only one letter, he might have considered it—but so many? Going would inadvertently offend a group of girls. His reputation was already poor; better to give up.
So Allen patted Marshall on the shoulder:
"Help me request a leave—say I'm heartbroken and suffering from a severe cold, undergoing potion treatment."
"Will that work? You really think the professors will buy this?"
"Of course." Allen casually pulled out a blank certificate, tapped it lightly, and handed it over.
"Forging documents breaks school rules—you might as well skip class. The chance of a professor noticing is low," Marshall said, taking the fake note.
Then he exclaimed:
"What the heck! Is this actually real? Allen, this is a certificate from the school nurse—you've gotten this good at forging?"
Of course it was real—it was just a small research prop given to him yesterday by the local club; they were the authorities in the area.
Allen gave a you'll-never-know look, flicked his finger, and set a pile of letters ablaze.
Whoosh!
The fire consumed them as his friends watched in dismay.
The letters held no collectible value; burning them was the best course. The leave note was also to let the girls know he had no intention of dating—Allen's calculation was precise.
Yet, a question lingered in his mind—why does my love life always turn out so differently?
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