The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

The classroom was finally peaceful.

The battle scars across the marble floor—burn marks, shattered tiles, and the faint, acrid scent of scorched mana—stood as silent reminders of what had happened here.

Desks were overturned, some split clean down the middle. A few had been vaporized entirely. The windows were gone, replaced by a cool breeze that whispered through the jagged edges of broken glass.

But there was no more screaming. No more pressure in the air.

Just silence.

I exhaled, long and slow, rubbing the corner of my eye with the back of a blood-stained glove. Lan was slung across my back again, humming faintly like it was satisfied. Like this was the outcome it expected.

"…It's over," I said aloud.

Maybe to convince myself.

Maybe to remind the room.

—Yeah. It's over, kid.

The voice echoed in my head—rough, familiar, and finally back.

Zhao Yuren. The soul bound to Lan.

He'd been silent during the entire fight with Avi. Not a single word.

—How are you feeling? You okay?

I couldn't help but chuckle at the tone in his voice. Gruff concern didn't suit him.

The previous owner of [Lan]—a man with the personality of a warhammer—was asking if I was okay.

"Haah… yeah, I'm alright. Just… taking out the trash that was piling up."

I didn't say the last part aloud.

Thanks to my friend—the author.

Zhao didn't respond right away.

—If you say so. But just remember something.

"Yeah?" I replied, gently flexing my fingers, still sore from the earlier exchange.

—Sometimes, even when you feel fine… you won't realize you're not, until it's too late.

"…What are you, a therapist now?" I muttered, trying to brush it off. "Don't say ominous things like that."

But he didn't answer.

And that quiet pause?

It said enough.

Still, I couldn't afford to linger in this mood. Not now. Not with everything Avi had left behind.

If I was going to keep moving forward, I had to take what I could from him. Repurpose the weapons meant to break this world… and make them mine.

Most of the artifacts he used were soul-bound. Once claimed, they couldn't just be taken by anyone. They'd reject you—or worse.

But a few of them… could be claimed. Rebound. Used.

The most important one?

Shadow Fang.

A dagger that lived in shadows and feasted on fear. It was his main weapon, and fortunately, it didn't require a bloodline or birthright. Just a new contract. I could handle that.

Then there was the other artifact he used in secret—one he'd hidden to manipulate Chairman of the academy.

The Undying Puppet.

A cursed object that allowed the wielder to control another through threads of corrupted mana.

That one needed to be destroyed. No question.

But the real prize?

The thing I actually wanted?

A mask.

Black. Scaled. And carved to look like the face of a dragon.

Its appearance could be changed, sure—but its true value lay in the spell woven into it:

Perception Inhibition.

It didn't turn you invisible. It just made others… forget. Skip over you. Ignore you, even when you were standing in front of them.

In a world where eyes watched from every corner and information was currency, that kind of item was priceless.

I didn't even like wearing masks.

But I'd wear this one.

If it gave me the freedom to move without being tracked, without being questioned, then it was worth it.

Even if it meant wearing the face of a monster to survive the story I'd been thrown into.

Now, I know what some of you might be wondering.

What the hell am I going to do with all this stuff?

The answer's simple.

I've already changed the story from the very beginning.

The survival of Rin Evans—now me—was the first deviation.

Since then, I've been interfering. Tweaking events. Pushing dominoes.

Stopping villains before they could carry out their twisted plans. Throwing them behind bars… or, when necessary, killing them.

Avi was the first major character I had to eliminate.

No need to go into the details. It's done.

But now, the early parts of the novel are… empty.

The academy arc that was once filled with conflict and tension? It's quiet. Peaceful.

Protagonists and side characters can laugh freely. Study. Train. Enjoy the days of youth they were never meant to have.

But what happens after graduation?

That's where the real struggle begins. That's where their stories were meant to take off.

And because of my interference… they won't get their growth.

No tragedy. No pressure. No reason to rise.

No villain to fight.

That's something I can't allow. Not if I want to make sure this world survives what's coming.

So until I find someone worthy to take that role—someone who isn't a complete psychopath like Avi, Ethan, or Kai—

"I'll be the villain of this story," I muttered.

Then, I placed the mask on my face.

It settled into place without resistance, light as a whisper. I didn't feel any different, but I knew what it was doing.

Its perception-inhibiting effect flared to life.

I pulled out a low-grade appraisal crystal to check.

Ho. Interesting.

The energy signature doesn't match mine at all.

Unless someone has ridiculous insight or a perception-related trait, they'll never see through this.

"That's good," I said, my voice slightly distorted behind the mask.

Everything was moving forward. Slowly, but surely.

I glanced at the items laid out in front of me. One by one, my future tools.

The Undying Puppet—sealed in liquid form, quietly swirling in a glass vial. Dangerous, yes, but not unusable. Not in the right hands.

Then my eyes settled on the last one.

The Shadow Fang.

It sat there in its sheath, sleek and silent, as if it had been waiting for someone—me—to claim it.

I reached out.

The moment my fingers inched closer, the dagger trembled.

And then… it moved.

A ripple of black liquid—like ink spilled in slow motion—began to seep from the weapon. It slithered forward on the ground, alive, creeping toward me.

"The hell…?"