"Terrifying?" I repeated, looking at Tybalt. He was still hugging his pillow, his eyes wide with genuine distress. "You think Kaelen is terrifying?"
"Ren, the guy turned the sun off," Tybalt whispered, as if Kaelen could hear us from the noble dorms across campus. "My cousin is in the Mage Track, year three. He said that kind of dark mana—Abyssal purity—hasn't been seen since the War of the Hollows. It's… it's bad news."
I looked down at my hand. The green salve Tybalt had given me was working miracles; the stinging had faded to a dull warmth.
In the original novel, Tybalt doesn't fear Kaelen. Not really. In Chapter 2, Tybalt gets cornered by some upperclassmen bullies behind the greenhouse. Kaelen steps in, not because he's a hero, but because the bullies are blocking his nap spot. He scares them off, Tybalt offers him a homemade meat bun as thanks, and boom—eternal friendship.
But that event relies on Kaelen being perceived as "weak trash" that the bullies think they can push around.
Now? Kaelen is a walking tactical nuke. No bully is going to go near him. Which means the greenhouse event won't happen. Which means Tybalt never talks to him. Which means Kaelen remains isolated, bitter, and eventually vulnerable to the temptation of the actual Demon King in Volume 3.
I rubbed my temples. I broke the friendship flag.
"Maybe he's just misunderstood," I said, trying to sound casual. I pulled my blanket up. "Power doesn't equal evil, right? I mean, look at Headmaster Eldric. He can nuke a mountain, but he just likes drinking tea."
Tybalt frowned, thinking about it. "I guess. But Eldric looks like a grandpa. Kaelen looks like he's about to murder someone for breathing too loud."
"Just… keep an open mind, Ty. You never know."
I rolled over, facing the wall.
"Night, Ren," Tybalt mumbled, extinguishing the mana lamp.
"Night."
I closed my eyes, but sleep didn't come easily. The grey text was hovering in the darkness of my eyelids, pulsing slowly.
[Narrative Deviation Correction: Paused.]
[Current Story Stability: 94.8%]
[Next Key Event: Team Selection (10 Hours)]
It had dropped another 0.2%.
I focused on the bottom line. [Target for Ending: 0%].
What did that even mean? usually, in these transmigrator stories, you have to reach 100% completion or save the world. Why was my goal zero? It felt like I was supposed to unravel the story, not finish it.
Or maybe, the story was the prison.
I drifted off with that cheerful thought.
Morning came too fast.
The alarm—a magical chime embedded in the wall—went off at six sharp. I woke up feeling surprisingly rested, though my hand was still stiff.
Tybalt was already up, frantically shoving books into a bag.
"We're gonna be late for breakfast," he said, hopping on one foot while trying to put on a sock. "And if we're late for breakfast, we get the stale bread. I hate stale bread, Ren. It scratches the roof of my mouth."
"Relax," I said, swinging my legs out of bed. "We have thirty minutes."
I got dressed in the grey uniform. Looking in the mirror, I saw a face that was perfectly average. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height. I was the definition of "Crowd Member B."
"Let's go," I said.
The cafeteria of Saint Caelum was a massive, high-ceilinged hall that smelled of bacon, coffee, and teenage anxiety. It was segregated by unwritten social laws. The nobles sat near the windows (better light). The combat junkies sat near the meat station. The nerds sat near the exit.
And then there was Kaelen.
I spotted him immediately. It was hard to miss the void in the room.
Kaelen was sitting at a central table. In the book, he sits here because he doesn't know the rules and doesn't care. Usually, people would be jeering at him, throwing crumpled napkins or whispering insults.
Today, there was a ten-foot radius of empty chairs around him.
Students walked by quickly, avoiding eye contact. A group of girls from Class 1-B were whispering frantically and pointing, looking terrified.
Kaelen was eating a piece of toast with deliberate slowness. He looked bored, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. He was isolated. Completely and utterly.
This is bad, I thought as I grabbed a tray. Isolation breeds resentment. Resentment breeds villains.
"Whoa," Tybalt whispered, standing behind me in the food line. "Look at that. He's like a plague victim."
"He's just eating toast, Ty."
"Menacingly," Tybalt countered.
We moved down the line. The breakfast lady slapped a scoop of scrambled eggs onto my plate.
"Ren," Tybalt said, eyeing a tray of golden-brown pastries on the counter. "I'm gonna grab some Honey-Glazed Buns. My recipe is better, obviously, but these are decent. Want one?"
I paused. My brain clicked.
The Meat Bun Event.
In the original timeline, Tybalt bonds with Kaelen over food. Tybalt is a glutton with a heart of gold. Food is his love language.
"Get two," I said.
"Two? You hungry?"
"Just get two extra. Trust me."
Tybalt shrugged and piled four buns onto his tray. We paid with our student credits and turned to find a seat.
Usually, NPC logic dictates we sit in the 'Commoner/Background' section. But I stopped.
"Ty," I said. "Let's sit there."
I pointed to a table. It wasn't at Kaelen's table—that would be too aggressive—but it was the one adjacent to it. Close enough to talk, far enough to be safe.
Tybalt turned pale. "Ren. No. That's the splash zone."
"The splash zone?"
"If he explodes again, we're toast. Literally."
"He's not going to explode. Come on."
I walked over before Tybalt could protest. I sat down, my back to Kaelen, but close enough that I could hear him chewing. Tybalt sat opposite me, looking like he was ready to bolt at any second.
The cafeteria went quiet for a moment. People were staring. Two nobodies sitting near the Monster? Were we suicidal?
I ignored them and started eating my eggs. "So," I said, a little louder than necessary. "Tybalt, these eggs are terrible. How do you make them again? With the... what was it? Fire-salt?"
Tybalt blinked, distracted from his fear by the insult to culinary arts. "Fire-salt? No! Are you crazy? You use Ember-dust. Just a pinch. And you have to whisk it with a fork, not a spoon, or the aeration is all wrong."
I nodded, taking a bite. "Right. You should write that down. Maybe sell a cookbook."
"I could," Tybalt said, warming up to the subject. He picked up one of his Honey-Glazed Buns. He took a bite and frowned immediately. "Ugh. Too dry. They left them in the oven for at least three minutes too long. And they used cheap honey. You can taste the wax."
He looked at the pile of buns on his tray with disdain. "A waste of flour."
I kicked Tybalt's shin under the table.
"Ouch! What?"
I tilted my head slightly backward, toward Kaelen. Kaelen had stopped chewing. He was listening.
In the book, Kaelen has a massive sweet tooth. It's his one 'cute' trait that humanizes him. He loves pastries but hates bad food.
"You have extras," I whispered to Tybalt. "You're not going to eat them if they're dry. Offer them."
"Are you insane?" Tybalt hissed. "Offer the Dark Lord my garbage buns?"
"He's staring at them, Ty."
Tybalt froze. He slowly looked past my shoulder.
Kaelen wasn't looking at us, but his gaze was fixed on the remaining buns on Tybalt's tray. He looked... hungry. And disappointed with his dry toast.
"Do it," I mouthed.
Tybalt swallowed hard. He was shaking. He picked up the cleanest-looking bun. He stood up, his legs trembling, and turned around.
"Um," Tybalt squeaked.
Kaelen turned his head slowly. His dark eyes locked onto Tybalt.
"Yeah?" Kaelen said. His voice was deep, and the entire cafeteria seemed to lean in to listen.
"I... uh..." Tybalt looked at the bun, then at Kaelen. "I... I heard you... like... bread?"
Oh my god, I thought, face-palming internally. Smooth, Tybalt. Real smooth.
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "I eat food. Yes."
"Right. Well." Tybalt held out the bun like he was offering a grenade to a dragon. "These are... they're a bit dry. The chef is a hack. But... if you want? I have too many."
Silence stretched.
I held my breath. If Kaelen rejected him here, the 'Loyal Sidekick' arc was dead in the water.
Kaelen looked at the bun. Then he looked at Tybalt's terrified face. A corner of his mouth twitched.
"Dry, huh?" Kaelen said.
He reached out and took the bun. His fingers brushed Tybalt's hand. Tybalt flinched but didn't run.
Kaelen took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully.
"You're right," Kaelen said. "Too much wax in the honey."
Tybalt let out a breath that sounded like a deflating tire. "Right?! That's what I said! They don't strain it properly!"
"I'm Kaelen," the hero said.
"Tybalt. Room 104."
"Thanks for the food, Tybalt."
Kaelen turned back to his meal, but the aura of absolute isolation was broken. He was eating the bun.
Tybalt sat back down, looking like he had just survived a boss fight with 1 HP remaining.
"He... he agreed with me about the honey," Tybalt whispered, his eyes wide.
"See?" I said, taking a sip of water to hide my relief. "Just a guy who likes pastries."
[Story Stability: 95.2%]
It went up. A tiny bit. I had manually stitched a plot thread back together.
But my relief was short-lived.
"Well, well," a voice sneered from the aisle. "Feeding the stray animals, are we?"
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The universe really wanted this conflict to happen.
Jareth.
He was standing there with his two lackeys. But he wasn't looking at me this time. He was looking at Kaelen.
In the original story, Vance (the original villain) would never confront Kaelen directly this early. He was too smart. But Jareth? Jareth was an extra promoted to a villain role. He didn't have the intelligence stat. He just had the aggression.
"Hey, Dark-Star," Jareth called out, stepping closer to Kaelen's table. "Did you curse that bun before you ate it? Or is your mouth poison enough?"
The cafeteria went deadly silent.
I saw Kaelen's hand stop moving.
Don't do it, I pleaded silently. Don't nuke him. If you use magic now, you get expelled.
Kaelen slowly put the bun down. He turned his head.
"Are you talking to me?" Kaelen asked.
"I'm talking to the freak who ruined the ceremony," Jareth said, puffing out his chest. He was trying to impress the terrified students, trying to reclaim the social hierarchy. "My father says people with your affinity should be put in cages, not classrooms."
That was a line from the book. But it was supposed to be said by a major antagonist in Volume 2. Hearing it from Jareth felt wrong, like a child wearing a giant's armor.
Kaelen stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Shadows began to pool under the table. The temperature dropped.
Jareth took a step back, his bravado wavering. "What? You gonna cry? Or are you gonna blow up the school?"
"Jareth!"
We all turned.
Standing at the entrance of the cafeteria was a girl. She held a stack of papers and her glasses were gleaming in the light.
Elara. The Clever Side Heroine.
She walked over, her heels clicking rhythmically. She didn't look at Kaelen. She looked straight at Jareth.
"Jareth Pyke," she said, checking her papers. "Your combat potential is C-minus. Your mana control is D-plus. Statistically speaking, if you provoke a conflict with an S-Rank entity, your survival probability is less than 4%."
She looked up, adjusting her glasses. "Are you bad at math, or do you just have a death wish?"
Some students snickered. Jareth's face turned bright red.
"Mind your business, Four-Eyes," Jareth spat.
"It is my business," Elara said calmly. "I am the newly appointed First-Year Representative for the Student Council. Fighting in the cafeteria results in a deduction of merits. I assume you don't want to start the term with negative credits?"
Jareth clenched his fists. He looked at Kaelen, who was watching with cold indifference, then at Elara.
"Whatever," Jareth muttered. "Not worth the time."
He shoved past Tybalt's chair—knocking it hard—and stormed off.
Tybalt clutched his chest. "I need to lie down."
Elara watched Jareth leave, then turned her gaze to Kaelen. "Conflict is inefficient. Try to avoid it."
Kaelen stared at her. "I didn't start it."
"No. But you were about to finish it."
Elara's eyes then flicked to our table. To me.
For the second time, she locked eyes with me. She didn't say anything. She just tapped her pen against her clipboard twice, as if making a mental note: 'Anomaly detected.'
Then she walked away.
I let out a long breath.
"Ren," Tybalt whispered. "I think I made a friend. And I think I almost died. Is this what high school is like?"
"Yeah, Ty," I said, watching Kaelen finish the bun Tybalt gave him. "That's exactly what it's like."
The bell rang.
"Selection Trials," I said, standing up. "Time to see where we belong."
As we walked out, I checked my status again.
[Narrative Deviation Averted.]
[Observer Level Increased to 2.]
[New Ability Unlocked: ???]
"New ability?" I muttered.
I focused on the question marks. The text swirled and resolved into a single word.
[Whisper.]
Whisper?
I didn't have time to test it. We were heading to the Arena. The Selection Trials were about to begin, and I had to make sure I failed perfectly enough to land in Class 1-C, while making sure Kaelen and Lysandra ended up in 1-A.
But something told me the universe wasn't done throwing rocks at me yet.