When he first transmigrated into this world, his grand, all-important goal was clear: chase eternal life! After all, wasn't that what his idol, the Great Love, did?
Scheme, kill, conquer—blah blah blah, live forever. It sounded cool in theory.
But days after Vivian's memories settled, he reached a crucial conclusion: eternal life might have sounded appealing, but it wasn't for him.
He simply couldn't control strong feelings like his idol Great Love, and he wanted to live a good, manageable life.
There was another reason, too, the immortal main character in that novel he'd read once.
He pictured centuries of emptiness: sitting around, watching everyone he knew turn to dust, with only his regrets for company.
No. He immediately threw the dream of immortality into the trash, like spoiled food.
Instead, he set his sights on something far more fun: manipulation. Yes, he'd mess with people, twist situations to his advantage, and walk away with the benefits. A much better hobby, really.
And where to start? The academy, of course! A goldmine of opportunity.
After all, he already knew the cast: Kafrik Tramplin, the oh-so-righteous protagonist of 'The Order of Love;' Charlotte, the ever-dramatic villainess; and a bunch of other walking plot devices just waiting to be used.
Truly, fate had delivered him the perfect playground.
However, when he finally met these characters, his own creations, no less—they turned out to be… different. Way different.
The ruthless villainess he had carefully crafted into a nightmare? Shockingly gentle—at least toward him. And the so-called righteous protagonist? The "hero" of his precious novel? A total, unapologetic piece of trash.
Sure, it bruised his pride as the all-powerful writer, after all, his own characters were supposed to be perfectly obedient plot devices—but he shrugged it off.
What could he do? Yell at them? Cry in the corner? Nope. Some things were just beyond even his genius.
But now the scene in front of him? Completely, utterly… unacceptable.
'No. Just no,' he thought, staring at Marinate Hamsborn, who was smiling at him like a ray of cheerful chaos.
He had definitely written her with a… more generous chest. 'But… medium? Medium?! Why?!' His brain screamed, his internal world descended into chaos, and in his mind, he was smashing everything within reach.
Tables, chairs, vases—obliterated! All while outside, he was smiling politely.
"You're the royal princess of the Arya Empire, right?" he asked carefully, as if confirming she wasn't some imposter.
Her answer? Crushing. Deflating. "Yes," she said sweetly. "I'm the eldest daughter of His Majesty Emperor Japris Hamsborn."
'Noooooooo!' he screamed internally. His carefully written universe… already falling apart.
"May I sit here?" she asked in a polite voice.
Vivian, breaking free from his chaotic thoughts, was just about to say yes when Charlotte's warning echoed sharply in his mind: 'If I see you flocking around girls, you will pay dearly, my dear.'
The words struck him like thunder, and for a moment he resolved to refuse her. He even rehearsed the line in his head— 'No, you cannot sit here. I am already reserved by Her Highness Princess Charlotte.'
But when the words left his mouth, they came out differently.
"U… can," he stuttered, his face burning red with embarrassment.
With a soft chuckle, she sat beside him and glanced at him. "You're cute," she said, "unlike what I imagined."
The words struck him like a knife. 'Cute? Why? I'm not cute—I'm cool!' he thought, ready to rebuke her.
But she leaned her chin on her hand and said again, matter-of-factly, "Yes, you're definitely cute."
That was enough to make his head feel like it might explode from embarrassment.
If anything, she could have used words like handsome, good-looking, cool, or even ruthless—terms befitting him.
But cute? A word usually reserved for children or girls? It wounded his pride as a man far more than he expected.
'No, I can no longer tolerate such disrespect,' he thought, imagining the perfect response: 'Hey, lady, I'm not cute! I'm the one and only manliest man in the world! And don't approach me—I'm already committed to my beloved Charlotte!'
Of course, it was just his imagination. In reality, he couldn't even summon the courage to meet her gaze.
Seeing his flustered expression, Marinate chuckled and reached out, gently taking his hand and drawing it closer.
'Hey, hey, what are you doing? Stay within your limits!' he wanted to shout.
But instead, his face grew even redder at her touch, and no words came out at all.
"You know…" she began, gently opening his fingers one by one, which had been tightly clenched into a fist. "The moment I saw you, I wanted to talk to you. I found you really cute. But then…" Her smile softened, and her eyes flickered with amusement. "…I saw you cutting that Kafrik—or whatever his name was—hand. I thought, hmm, maybe you're not so cute after all, judging by your behavior."
Then, leaning closer, she began caressing his hair with a subtle, almost teasing smile. "But now… now that I'm talking to you, I find you very cute."
Vivian's mouth hovered over the words like a bruise. 'Should I… bite my tongue off and—' His sudden thought shocked him; he swallowed it back, seeing instead the faint smiles of his mother and father like lifelines in the dark.
What could he do? He'd made this humiliation himself; the characters he'd birthed were now laughing at him.
He flinched, trying to escape the heat of shame. His lips finally moved, stammering, "Well… Marinate, I… I'm not cu—cute. I'm a— a man, so don't — don't call me that."
Marinate blinked, then tilted her head. Her smile widened slow and soft. "Haha, no — you are cute. You just don't know it yet, and I like that part of you."
Before Vivian could answer, the room hushed as the classroom door opened. A middle-aged professor stepped in; her glasses sat low on her nose, her expression unreadable.
As the professor entered, Marinate leaned closer and whispered, "We'll talk about the future after class."
The words slid along his spine like cold water. What should he do? He wanted every girl's attention, but not like this — and the worst part was the thought of Charlotte finding out.
'Don't flock around girls or you will pay, my dear.' The warning looped in his head like a tide alarm.
'I'm fucked.'