"Dring—dring—dring—!!"
"Mm…"
I woke up to the soft electronic alarm of my Cardinal device.
It wasn't an annoying sound. It was calm, orderly—just like everything in this academy.
I opened my eyes and stared at the white ceiling of my dorm room. It was perfect. No cracks, no stains… not a single flaw.
It was unbearably boring.
For a moment, I felt like I was still in that empty white world inside the painting—until the memories of yesterday came crashing back like a cold slap.
The team match. Team Gamma. Serena, Ethan, Chloe… and Kai Morgenstern.
["Are you bored?"]
His calm, cold voice echoed in my mind. It hadn't been a question—it had been a diagnosis.
I got out of bed, feeling a strange heaviness in my body.
It wasn't physical exhaustion—it was mental. The feeling of being watched—not just by instructors, but by the real "players" in this story—was exhausting.
The rest of yesterday had been lectures. After that, I stayed in my room the entire time.
Kai Morgenstern…
That name alone was enough to send a faint chill down my spine.
In the original novel, he was a major character—practically a protagonist. A complicated young man who never received proper guidance. And the fact that he had taken an interest in me…
That was definitely not a good sign.
"Tch…"
I headed to the small bathroom attached to my room and splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the remnants of sleep—and the unsettling thoughts.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
Adam Lester's face.
A strange face that still felt like a mask I was wearing. Messy coal-black hair. Gray eyes carrying a perpetually drowsy expression.
'I need to maintain this mask,' I thought. 'Kai's misunderstanding of my strength is my only shield right now. If it's revealed that I'm just an ordinary guy… my life here is over.'
I left the bathroom and went to the small kitchenette. There was nothing there except a cheap coffee maker and a few cups.
'Black coffee again,' I sighed. 'What wouldn't I give for a real espresso right now…'
I poured coffee grounds into the filter, turned the machine on, and listened to it sputter as it dripped bitter black liquid.
"Shhh…"
'Future goal: when I get rich and make some money, the first thing I'll buy is a luxury Italian espresso machine. That is, if I don't die before then…'
While waiting for my coffee, my thoughts drifted to the bigger picture.
The Twisted Carnival. The Lobby Elevator. The cursed art gallery.
All of them were "side horror stories" that never appeared in the original novel.
Small incidents in the grand scheme—but deadly for someone like me.
'I survived them all thanks to my skill… nothing more.'
But what about the future?
More of these stories were coming—just like in the novel. "Ghost Hospital," "The Doll Game," "Midnight Train." Each one was both an opportunity… and a tragedy.
An opportunity for rare rewards—and a tragedy because they killed side characters… and sometimes even important ones.
'I can exploit them,' I thought, pouring the black coffee into my cup. 'If I resolve these "stories" before they escalate, I can gain system rewards—and maybe… save a few idiots along the way.'
But it was a dangerous path.
Every intervention changes the original storyline. Every change creates unknown variables.
I'm walking on a tightrope over an abyss of uncertainty.
That's the so-called butterfly effect—the idea that a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil could cause a hurricane in Texas.
I had read enough reincarnation and time-travel stories to know that messing with the natural flow of events was… a pain in the ass.
You can't move freely, can't stand straight, can't even walk steadily.
'But staying still isn't an option either.' I took a sip of my coffee.
It was bitter. Just as expected.
'If I stay still, the story will come to me… just like the Carnival… and being placed in Team Gamma… Instructor Phoenix put me there on purpose.'
I didn't know why—but it was definitely for observation.
I finished my coffee, feeling the cheap caffeine start to kick in.
Time to face the day.
I headed to Classroom Alpha.
The moment I walked in, I felt it.
The sudden drop in noise. Conversations turned into whispers—and the whispers stopped the moment their eyes met mine.
Then they quickly looked away, as if making eye contact with me was either rude… or dangerous.
This had become my daily routine.
The strange looks never stopped.
They were still trying to understand what had happened—how I survived—and what kind of ability I had.
To them, I was just a strange, unsettling person they could easily dislike. No deep analysis needed.
I returned to my seat at the back, ignoring the stares.
But before I sat down—I saw her.
Chloe Johnson.
She was sitting with her friends—but she was looking straight at me.
When our eyes met, she didn't look away.
Instead, she gave me a wide, mischievous smile… and winked.
She'd been doing that a lot lately.
'What the hell does that mean?'
That girl was chaos incarnate. Did my "escape" impress her? Or did she see me as some kind of entertaining punching bag?
Either way… it was concerning.
Then Serena Valerian looked at me.
She sat quietly, like a marble statue. Her gaze was cold, empty—and she completely ignored me, as if I didn't exist.
Total indifference from the team leader meant one thing:
I had been labeled as unreliable.
And… that was actually good, in my opinion. Being ignored by a main character was better than being targeted.
But earning her resentment?
That was bad in a different way.
At that moment, Instructor Phoenix entered the room—and silence fell instantly.
She stood before us, her face as expressionless as ever.
"Good morning, students," she said in her icy voice. "Before we begin today's lesson, the results of yesterday's team match will be announced."
A slight tension filled the air.
A large screen behind her displayed the results.
"All teams were evaluated based on teamwork, execution, and objective completion. Several teams performed well… such as Team Theta."
I saw Zayn Wilder tilt his head slightly, as if calmly accepting the praise.
"Team Delta, despite initial setbacks, demonstrated resilience and regrouping capability."
Leo nodded with a serious expression.
"But the team with the highest evaluation… is Team Gamma."
Murmurs spread across the room.
"Team Gamma?"
"But they lost a member early on!"
"I heard Chloe and Ethan were close to collapsing!"
Phoenix raised her hand, and silence returned.
"Victory in direct confrontation is not the sole measure of success. Team Gamma faced an unfavorable situation (3 vs 4), yet adapted and achieved victory through overwhelming individual strength, strategic combat, and effective distribution."
She glanced at Serena, whose expression didn't change.
Then her eyes stopped on me.
"However, certain individuals displayed… unconventional performance."
Every eye in the room turned toward me.
'This is unfair… didn't Kai do the same thing?!'
"The ability to assess a situation, understand one's limits, and make a strategic decision to execute a tactical withdrawal—protecting the rear and avoiding becoming a burden… is also a valuable skill, albeit an uncommon one."
She wasn't praising me.
She wasn't criticizing me either.
She was describing me like a complex equation—using refined terms to make my actions sound acceptable.
But I understood the message.
'I saw what you did… and I'm watching you.'
"That is all," she concluded. "Detailed evaluations will be sent to your devices. Now, let us begin today's lesson."
I let out a quiet breath.
I survived… for now.
But as I turned, I saw Rex Barnes whispering to his friends, laughing softly.
"'Tactical withdrawal'? She's just giving cowardice a fancy name."
I ignored him.
There was no point responding to idiots.
But I felt other gazes.
Serena's cold stare had sharpened—like she was trying to decode Phoenix's evaluation.
And Ethan… looked at me with clear disappointment, as if he couldn't believe cowardice could be rewarded.
I sat down, feeling the isolation around me grow heavier.
'One battle ended…' I thought, a hint of unease creeping in. 'But it seems the social war has just begun.'
The most important question lingered in my mind:
'Will Serena report me to Instructor Phoenix for ignoring her orders? Will she hold a grudge… and blacklist me?'
Given her personality…
I was certain the answer was yes.
My future in this academy had just become far more complicated.
As expected, my "withdrawal" didn't go unnoticed.
At the end of the day—after enduring looks ranging from hostility to curiosity—Instructor Phoenix summoned me again.
This time, it wasn't an interrogation.
It was a verdict.
"Lester," she said coldly, "while the Academic Council acknowledges that your actions did not directly endanger your team, your explicit failure to follow orders requires disciplinary action."
'Translation: Serena complained. I defended you a little. Now I need to look like I'm doing something.'
"Your punishment will be assisting with archival work in the main academy library for two weeks, starting today."
I nodded without expression.
"Is that all, Instructor?"
"Dismissed."
I wasn't upset.
In fact… I felt relieved.
Library duty?
That wasn't punishment—it was a reward.
A quiet place, away from people, filled with information.
For someone like me… it was better than a luxury vacation.
More importantly—it was an opportunity.
An opportunity to verify facts… and fill in the gaps left by the original novel.
My knowledge was broad—but it was a reader's knowledge. Focused on major events and characters.
The details—history, laws, systems—were still blurry.
I had planned to use my dorm computer… but since the library came to me—
Even better.
The Academy Library wasn't just a library.
It was a monument.
A massive building, separate from the rest of the campus—its classical design resembling an ancient temple of knowledge.
[Lorien Library]
I read the name engraved on the bronze plaque.
From the outside, it didn't belong to this futuristic world.
But inside… it was a breathtaking blend of old and new.
The scent of aged paper and leather mixed with the faint hum of servers and air filtration systems.
Towering wooden shelves stretched dozens of meters high, filled with real, leather-bound books.
At the same time, holographic screens displayed digital data, and small robots moved silently between aisles, returning books to their places.
"Punishment, hm… fine, boy."
The librarian—an elderly woman with half-moon glasses who looked like she had been born among these shelves—gave me simple instructions.
"These records from the 'Age of Chaos' need to be scanned and archived. Most are damaged. Be careful."
Then she left me alone.
'Perfect.'
I began working.
The records were old paper files—fragile, dusty-smelling, yet strangely not irritating.
They contained field reports, personal journals from early explorers, newspaper clippings from the pre-collapse world.
As I flipped through the pages and scanned them, the vague picture I knew from the novel began to sharpen.
The main event:
The emergence of "Narrative Rifts"—or "Story Gates."
It wasn't a sudden appearance.
Early records, dating back to around 1920, spoke of "strange phenomena."
Children speaking to invisible monsters.
Forests whose paths changed every night.
Songs that drove listeners insane.
That was the beginning.
Stories leaking into reality… like ink spreading across paper.
Then came the explosion.
In a single day—later called "The Day of Collapse"—thousands of rifts opened worldwide.
They weren't stable portals.
They were wounds in reality… vomiting chaos.
Horror stories spilled out.
In London, Jack the Ripper emerged from a rift—hunting the streets once more.
In the Amazon, twisted folklore came alive—walking trees, whispering rivers.
In the Pacific, something described only as "The Sleeping Horror" awakened—its mere existence causing madness.
These weren't gateways to places.
They were scenarios—manifestations of myths, nightmares, and abstract concepts.
The records that followed were a nightmare.
Cities destroyed. Governments collapsing.
Conventional weapons were useless against creatures made of fear—or stories that rewrote physics.
Civilization collapsed within a decade.
Humanity stood on the brink of extinction.
But then…
Something else happened.
Some individuals—mostly children born after the Collapse—began developing extraordinary abilities.
They spoke of seeing a floating blue screen.
"Skills."
Early reports were chaotic:
"A boy moving stones with his mind."
"A girl igniting fire with her hands."
"A man vanishing into shadows."
At first, they were hunted.
Mistaken for monsters.
But they became humanity's only hope.
They learned to fight back.
They became the first Explorers.
Over time, survivors studied these phenomena.
Everything was classified:
Skills, monsters, rifts.
A ranking system was created—from F- to SSS+.
Only one person in history ever reached SSS.
Skill rankings followed the same system.
Rank wasn't just destructive power—it measured complexity, rarity, and potential.
A C-rank skill might destroy a building.
An A-rank skill—like Kai's—could decide entire battles without a single attack.
Eventually, powerful individuals united humanity under the United Terra Alliance (UTA).
It wasn't perfect—but it was a beginning.
Fortified cities were built.
Explorer teams were formed.
Civilization slowly returned.
Now, we live in an era of relative stability.
But the gates still appear.
And to fight them…
Academies were created.
The Vanguard Academy—the first and most important—was founded during the darkest days of chaos.
Its purpose:
To train the next generation to stand at the forefront of humanity's endless war against stories.
I was lost in these thoughts, flipping a fragile yellow page…
When I heard a quiet voice beside me.
"That's a rare record. Chronicles of Chaos, Volume Three. I've been looking for it."
"Huh…?"
I looked up, startled.
A girl stood there—long black hair draped over her shoulders, mysterious violet eyes fixed on the book in my hand.
I hadn't sensed her approach at all.
"Oh, sorry—I didn't mean to scare you," she said softly. "But that volume… may I take a look after you're done?"
"Of course," I said, closing the book and setting it aside. "I just finished it."
That was a lie.
But I already knew what came next.
She took it carefully, her hands gentle.
"Thank you."
She sat across from me and began reading intently.
Silence fell between us.
Only the sound of fragile pages turning filled the air.
I found myself watching her.
She didn't belong to the noisy classroom world.
Quiet. Isolated. More at ease with books than people.
'Maybe we're similar in that way.'
"Are you looking for something specific?" she asked suddenly, without lifting her eyes.
I was caught off guard.
"Just… trying to understand a few things," I answered vaguely.
"Like how one person could possess abilities from completely different classifications?"
She looked up—violet eyes meeting mine.
I froze.
'Does she know…?'
She noticed my reaction and smiled faintly.
"Don't worry—I'm not interested in exposing it. It's just… an interesting theoretical anomaly. According to current mana laws, it should be impossible. But Chronicles of Chaos mentions rare cases—'anomalies' that break the rules."
"Anomalies?" I repeated.
"Yes. Individuals whose abilities don't follow any known classification. Rare—and most either disappeared or were killed. They were considered dangerous… because they were unpredictable."
She looked directly at me.
"Unpredictability… is the greatest threat to any system."
I didn't know what to say.
This girl… was frighteningly intelligent.
She connected the team match… with obscure historical records.
'Was she watching the match?'
I packed my things and muttered, "See you later," before leaving the library. I had finished the task assigned to me.
"…."
She didn't respond.
Completely absorbed in her book.
I stepped out of the grand building, feeling the weight on my shoulders grow heavier.
Not just my knowledge of the novel—
But the weight of this tragic world's history.
At least now…
The vague truths I knew had been confirmed.
'That's good… for now.'