The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

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

Rachel Evans.

My older sister.

And now she was standing in my dorm room hallway.

Looking absolutely pissed.

Yep.

Chaos has returned.

"Rin! What's taking you so lon—"

Leona's voice rang out from behind me, but the moment she stepped into view and laid eyes on Rachel, her words just… stopped.

Her mouth hung open, eyes wide, like she had just seen a celebrity in the flesh.

Ah, right. I forgot.

Leona was a huge fan of my sister.

Of course, she didn't expect that terrifying idol of hers would just show up at our front door unannounced.

Meanwhile, Rachel's expression shifted in an instant—from irritated older sister to polished, graceful hero. Her demeanor flipped like a switch.

A pleasant, practiced smile appeared on her face.

"Oh? You have a roommate? Well, of course—you're in a dorm. I'm sorry. It hasn't been that long since I graduated, but I already forgot how this works."

Her tone when she said "you have a roommate" versus "I'm sorry" was like night and day. Like she had two voices living inside her.

Was this the level of skill that came from years of experience as a public hero?

"Ah, n-no! It's okay!" Leona stammered, clearly flustered. Her hands were fidgeting, and she actually bit her tongue halfway through.

She, the self-proclaimed bold and fearless crossdressing roommate… reduced to mush in front of her idol.

Meanwhile, Rachel just smiled knowingly, clearly used to this sort of reaction. She turned her attention back to me with a casual hum.

"Hmm."

Her eyes scanned me. Up and down. Once. Then again.

As if checking for damage.

Or maybe judging my fashion sense.

Then, without waiting for an invitation, she stepped right inside and made herself at home.

"Oh my. Two boys living together and even making your own breakfast? How commendable," she said, gracefully taking a seat at the table like it was her own place.

I didn't know whether to be annoyed or scared.

Probably both.

Leona, still processing everything, stood frozen beside me.

I sighed.

Here we go again.

Rachel sat at the table like royalty visiting a peasant's cottage.

She crossed one leg over the other, arms resting loosely on the chair, her gaze scanning the room like she was evaluating a battlefield. Or maybe judging my taste in furniture.

Leona rushed over with the stew pot, almost tripping over herself in excitement.

"Would you like some breakfast, Miss Evans?! I made stew and rice! I mean—I cooked it! Me!"

Rachel smiled warmly. "That sounds lovely. Thank you."

Traitor.

I watched helplessly as Leona placed a fresh bowl in front of her, giving her the special spoon. My spoon. The one with the longer handle and smooth edges. The good one.

I sat across from Rachel with a heavy heart, poking at my rice like it had personally wronged me.

Rachel took a bite. Chewed slowly. Swallowed.

Then she looked at me.

"So, Rin."

I tensed.

"Anything you want to explain to your dear sister?"

I choked on my rice.

"E-Explain? About what?"

She tilted her head ever so slightly, smiling.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe about how you pretend to don't know me when I first called you after you left for academy?"

I wasn't pretending! I really didn't know that she's now supposed to be my sister.

After all, At that moment I just Transmigrated as Rin Evans.

How the hell I am supposed to know that he has sister?

Of course later I found that Rin—Me has sister as I tried to remember the plot.

But I can't tell her that now can I?

I swallowed hard. Not the rice—no, that had already gone down the wrong pipe. I meant the creeping panic crawling up my spine.

"I—I wasn't pretending," I croaked, grabbing my water. "I just… didn't recognize your number, that's all. It was a new phone."

Rachel blinked slowly, the way a predator might blink before deciding whether to chase the prey or toy with it a little more.

"Oh?" she said, smile never faltering. "That's strange. I'm fairly certain it was the same number I always used."

Leona's eyes darted between us like she was watching a tennis match—though one side had a gun and the other had… a slightly used spoon.

"New environment. New number. New stress," I continued, voice cracking in all the wrong places. "You know how it is. Adjusting. It's hard."

"Hmm."

Rachel set her spoon down gently.

Too gently.

The kind of gentle that screamed I know you're lying and I'm letting you dig your own grave.

"And here I thought you just didn't want to talk to your family anymore," she said lightly.

"No! I mean—of course not! Why would I?!"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because someone wanted to act like a mysterious brooding protagonist now that he's at the academy?"

"I—! I'm not—!"

"You even changed your hairstyle."

"...That's personal growth!"

Rachel leaned in, chin resting on her hand. "And your fighting style?"

"…Creative freedom?"

She chuckled.

Not the warm kind.

The kind that meant she knew I wasn't Rin. Or at the very least, she was suspicious.

Very suspicious.

"You know," she said, her tone deceptively soft, "Dad said the same thing. That you felt different. Talked different. That you didn't act like yourself."

Leona gasped, covering her mouth.

Et tu, Father?

I tried to think of something—anything—that would change the subject.

"Leon," I blurted. "Didn't you say you were going to add eggs to the stew?"

Leona blinked. "I did?"

"Yes, totally. It was like—your special recipe, right? Sister would love to try it!"

"Oh! R-Right! I'll go get some!"

And just like that, she rushed off into the kitchen, clearly grateful for a task that took her out of the line of fire.

Rachel leaned back.

"Smart move," she said.

"Thanks."

"But that won't save you."

"Damn it."

She let the silence hang there for a beat before finally softening her voice.

"Rin. You're not an easy person to fool. But something about you… It's like you're wearing your own face for the first time. Like you're watching yourself in the mirror and trying to learn who you are."

I stayed quiet.

I didn't know how to answer that. Not without confirming what she was already dancing around.

She sighed and stood up.

"You don't have to tell me now," she said, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. "But I'll find out eventually. I always do."

Before I could respond, she turned toward the kitchen. "Leon, no need to rush. I won't stay long. I just came to make sure my adorable brother didn't die in some ditch while ignoring my calls."

"Y-Yes, Miss Evans!"

Rachel turned back to me and winked. "Also, if you are hiding something big and dangerous—whatever it is—try not to get Leon caught in the crossfire."

And just like that, she started heading for the door.

"Wait, you're leaving?" I asked.

She opened it, looked back over her shoulder, and gave me one last smile.

"For now."

Then she was gone.

Leona came running back with two eggs and a frying pan. "Where'd she go?! I was gonna ask for an autograph—!"

I slumped into my seat, letting my head fall to the table.

"Hell just knocked on my door," I muttered, "ate my breakfast, and left wearing my dignity like a coat."

And somewhere deep in the back of my mind, Zaho laughed softly.

—You know… she's sharper than you."

"Not helping."