The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

Now we're back to the present.

Life has returned to normal—or at least something close to it.

No more stress, no looming threats, no hidden daggers behind polite smiles.

Things between me and my crossdressing roommate, Leona, have settled too. We're... fine now.

A peaceful day lies ahead.

With that comforting thought in mind, I jumped down from my bed, stretching as the early morning light spilled through the window.

The first thing I saw was Leona already at the small stove, humming softly while cooking.

The smell of stew and warm rice filled the room. My stomach growled on instinct.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a twinge of guilt.

"You always wake up so early to cook," I said. "It must be tiring… I'm sorry."

Leona glanced over her shoulder and gave a short laugh, the kind that made it impossible to feel too serious around her.

"Hey, what kind of hardship is it to make stew and rice?" she said with a grin. "Just go wash your face and come eat~"

She waved a ladle at me like it was a magic wand dismissing my apology.

I smiled faintly. That was just like her—making things look easy, even when they weren't.

Right. This was an academy story.

I had been so caught up with life-or-death decisions, betrayals, and secret fights in the dark that I had almost forgotten the original tone of all this.

Academy life wasn't supposed to be all blood and shadows. It was meant to be slightly absurd, sometimes light-hearted, and yes—a little B-grade in sensibility.

Like now.

Like how I found myself living with a crossdressing heroine straight out of a romance subplot.

I was just thinking that when a voice echoed in my head—Zhao Yuren.

"Hmm, why is that girl dressed like a boy? Is she a Buddhist nun in training?"

The question made me pause, a spoon halfway to my mouth.

Right. How was I supposed to explain Leona to someone like Zhao Yuren?

I thought for a second and gave the best, most diplomatic answer I could.

'Yes… something like that,' I told him.

There was a long pause.

Then, Zhao Yuren's voice echoed in my mind again—flat, unimpressed.

"That is not an answer, Rin."

I sighed inwardly.

Here we go.

"It's an answer if you stop thinking about it."

—You have a person, clearly female, pretending to be male, yet wearing an apron and cooking like a housewife. This is not logical.

I picked up my spoon again, scooping more stew into my mouth before replying mentally.

"You're not exactly the definition of logical either."

That shut him up for a few seconds.

Seconds.

—…Touché. But even still, explain. Is this some kind of ritual? A disguise? A punishment? Perhaps a spiritual path to enlightenment?

I nearly choked on a piece of carrot.

Leona, unaware of the inner battle raging inside my skull, tilted her head at me from across the table.

"You okay?"

I nodded quickly, waving her off. "Yeah, just… hot stew."

She went back to eating, humming again.

Zhao, of course, didn't stop.

—You were about to die yesterday. Now you're living with a girl pretending to be a boy who cooks rice and stew at dawn. Are you sure you're not hallucinating all this?

I wiped my mouth and sighed mentally.

"It's called 'slice of life,' Yuren. It's a genre. A temporary pause before the next nightmare."

He grunted.

—So you admit chaos will return.

"Yeah, obviously. I just want to enjoy breakfast first."

—....

Good. Now he is silent.

Knock knock.

Just as I was about to resume eating, a sudden knock echoed through the apartment.

No, not a knock. A bang—no, bang bang. It was the kind of knock that didn't come from someone being polite.

It was the knock of someone angry. Confrontational. Maybe even murderous.

I froze, spoon still hovering mid-air.

That wasn't a visitor. That was a threat.

Slowly, I stood up and walked toward the door.

"…Who is it?"

"FBI."

I blinked.

There was a pause where I half-expected some deep, gravelly voice to follow up with "Open the door!" or something dramatic like that.

Behind me, Leona called out, her tone cautious.

"…Did you do something shady behind my back yesterday?"

I answered instinctively. "No?"

Then I paused.

Well—I did kill an elf, but he was a villain mastermind. That doesn't count as a crime… right?

"Just check who it is," she said.

"Alright, alright."

Honestly, I wasn't too concerned. If this was the original story, where villains regularly trashed the dorms and the academy teetered on the edge of collapse, I might've been worried.

But now? Most of the major threats were gone. I'd made sure of that.

So, I casually unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"Yes? Who yo—"

My words died halfway.

Standing on the other side was a woman.

Not just any woman. A breathtakingly beautiful woman.

No, wait—saying she was just beautiful would be an insult. She had that kind of overwhelming beauty that made it hard to breathe. A suffocating, dominant aura wrapped around her like invisible chains, demanding attention and obedience.

Her long black hair shimmered like polished obsidian. Her sharp red eyes—identical to mine—glowed with a quiet fury. Every line of her body, from the sharp curve of her cheekbone to the way she stood with effortless confidence, screamed elegance… and danger.

Professor Lena and Leona were beautiful too, sure. But this woman? This was another level. A kind of violent, glamorous beauty that didn't need permission to command the room.

And then she spoke.

"Well… at least this time you're not asking who I am after seeing my face."

That voice.

My stomach dropped.

"…Hello. Sister?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why the question mark?" she asked, stepping forward without waiting to be invited. "Don't tell me…"

She narrowed her eyes.

"…you forgot your own sister's face?"

Ah.

This suffocating, terrifying goddess of death at my front door was none other than—

Rachel Evans.

My older sister.

And she was now here.

In my dorm.

Looking absolutely pissed.

Yep.

Chaos has returned.