Lin Yuer stared at the imposing gates of St. Amadeus Academy for Boys and felt his eye twitch.
"This is a school?"
It looked more like a palace that had gotten lost on its way to Versailles and accidentally ended up in Shanghai.
The main building was a massive European-style structure with marble columns, gilded windows, and what appeared to be an actual fountain featuring a statue of some old dead white guy in the courtyard. Luxury cars lined the circular driveway—Mercedes, BMWs, even a few Maseratis.
Students in pristine uniforms walked past, chatting and laughing, designer bags casually slung over their shoulders.
Lin Yuer looked down at his own uniform.
It was wrinkled. Stained. The pants were slightly too short, showing his mismatched socks. His shoes had a hole in the sole that he'd stuffed with newspaper.
[HOST! You're already getting stares! (・∀・)]
Yeah, I can feel them.
And they weren't good stares.
As Lin Yuer walked through the gates, heads turned. Whispers started immediately.
"Is that Lin Yuer?"
"Ew, he looks even worse than yesterday."
"Did he sleep in a dumpster?"
"Why is he even here? Scholarship trash..."
Lin Yuer adjusted his glasses (which he didn't even need—his vision was perfect) and hunched his shoulders, making himself smaller. The original Lin Yuer's body language had been submissive, afraid, always trying to be invisible.
He shuffled toward the main building, keeping his head down.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up."
Ah. Here we go.
Lin Yuer looked up to see a group of boys blocking his path. The leader was tall, handsome in that entitled rich-boy way, with styled hair and a smirk that screamed "my daddy owns a company."
Zhang Hao.
Son of Zhang Industries' CEO.
Original Lin Yuer's primary tormentor.
Lin Yuer's assassin brain immediately provided information: Age 17. Height 183cm. Weak point: overconfident. Right knee has old injury—favors left leg. Currently flanked by four lackeys. Threat assessment: could defeat all five in twelve seconds without breaking a sweat.
But Lin Yuer just stood there, clutching his bag.
"H-hello, Zhang Hao," he mumbled, playing the part.
Zhang Hao's smirk widened. "Did you finish my homework?"
Excuse me?
[Original Lin Yuer was forced to do Zhang Hao's homework! (╬ ಠ益ಠ)]
[Such bullying! So terrible! But you must endure! Mission remember!]
Lin Yuer wanted to grab Zhang Hao by his perfectly gelled hair and introduce his face to the marble fountain. Repeatedly.
Instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a notebook.
The original Lin Yuer had finished the homework before being poisoned. It was all there—complete, detailed, probably better than anything Zhang Hao could produce himself.
"Here..." Lin Yuer held it out.
Zhang Hao snatched it, flipped through it, then—
SPLASH
—dumped his coffee all over it.
The pages turned brown and soggy instantly. Hours of work ruined.
"Oops," Zhang Hao said, not sounding sorry at all. "Guess you'll have to do it again. Have it ready by lunch, or else." He shoved past Lin Yuer, his lackeys laughing as they followed.
Lin Yuer stood there, coffee dripping from his hands, staring at the ruined notebook.
His left eye twitched.
I have killed warlords for less than this.
[HOST! Your killing intent is leaking! Σ(°ロ°)]
[CONTROL YOURSELF!]
Lin Yuer took a deep breath.
He wiped his hands on his already-stained uniform and continued into the building.
First Period: Mathematics
Lin Yuer slid into his usual seat at the very back of the classroom, near the window. The original Lin Yuer had always sat here.
The seat next to him remained conspicuously empty. No one wanted to sit next to the "scholarship trash."
Fine by him. He'd worked alone for most of his previous life anyway.
The teacher walked in—Mr. Chen, a middle-aged man with glasses and a perpetually bored expression. He immediately started writing equations on the board.
"Today we'll be covering advanced calculus. I expect last night's assignment on my desk by the end of class."
Pencils scratched on paper. Students sighed and complained.
Lin Yuer looked at the equations on the board.
Child's play.
He'd been trained in advanced mathematics for calculating trajectories, angles, distances. This was basic stuff.
His hand moved automatically, solving the problems in his notebook .
[Wow! Host is so smart! ☆:...o(≧▽≦)o...:☆]
I also know how to make seventeen different types of poison and can speak nine languages. Being smart is the least impressive thing about me.
He finished the entire assignment in six minutes.
Then spent the next forty-four minutes staring out the window, bored out of his mind.
Is this what normal students do? This is torture. I'd rather be disarming a bomb.
"Lin Yuer!"
He jolted, looking up. Mr. Chen was staring at him with narrowed eyes.
"Since you seem so fascinated by the window, perhaps you can solve problem seven on the board?"
The class tittered. Problem seven was notoriously difficult—most students couldn't solve it without a calculator and twenty minutes.
Lin Yuer glanced at the board.
Wait. Don't be too competent. Original Lin Yuer was bad at math.
"I... I don't know, teacher," he mumbled.
"Of course you don't." Mr. Chen's expression was disdainful. "Pay attention next time, or even your scholarship won't save you."
More laughter from the class.
Lin Yuer bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying that the answer was obviously 42.7 .
The cafeteria was a war zone of social hierarchy.
The rich kids sat at the best tables near the windows. The moderately wealthy sat in the middle. The scholarship students were relegated to the tables near the trash cans.
Guess which category Lin Yuer fell into?
He grabbed a tray of food (mystery meat, suspicious vegetables, rice that looked like it had seen better days) and headed toward the scholarship section.
"Hey! Lin Yuer!"
Oh no.
Zhang Hao's voice. Again.
Lin Yuer turned slowly. Zhang Hao was sitting at the premium table, surrounded by his usual entourage of rich boys who laughed at his every word.
"Did you finish rewriting my homework?"
It's been three hours.
"Not... not yet," Lin Yuer said quietly.
"No?" Zhang Hao stood up, his chair scraping loudly. The cafeteria started to quiet down as people noticed the confrontation. "Then what good are you?"
He walked over, grabbed Lin Yuer's tray, and—
CRASH
—smashed it to the ground.
Food splattered everywhere. The sound echoed in the now-silent cafeteria.
"Oops," Zhang Hao said again, that same infuriating smirk on his face. "Butterfingers."
His friends erupted in laughter.
Lin Yuer stood there, covered in meat and vegetables, and felt something dark and dangerous stir in his chest.
I could kill you.
Right here.
Right now.
Twenty-three different methods.
Make it look like an accident.
No one would even question it.
[HOST! NO! (ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ~]
[MISSION! REMEMBER THE MISSION!]
[SURVIVE WITHOUT REVEALING SKILLS!]
Lin Yuer's hands clenched into fist.
Zhang Hao noticed the fists.
"What?" He leaned in close, his breath reeking of expensive cologne and entitlement. "You gonna hit me? Go ahead. Try it. My father will have you expelled before you can blink."
Your father. Right.
Zhang Industries.
I know where your father works. I know his schedule. I know his security detail. I know exactly how to—
[HOST!!! (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻]
"...Sorry," Lin Yuer muttered, unclenching his fists. He bent down and started picking up the scattered food with shaking hands.
"That's what I thought." Zhang Hao kicked some rice toward him. "Trash belongs on the ground anyway."
He walked away, his lackeys following, already laughing about something else.
The cafeteria slowly returned to its normal noise level. No one helped Lin Yuer clean up. No one even looked at him.
Except one person.
A chubby boy with kind eyes and a nervous expression hurried over with napkins.
"Here," he whispered, kneeling down to help. "I'm so sorry. Zhang Hao is such a jerk."
Lin Yuer looked up, surprised.
Wei Feng. Original Lin Yuer's only friend.
"...Thanks," Lin Yuer said quietly.
Wei Feng smiled sadly. "We scholarship students have to stick together, right?"
Ah. So that's why.
They cleaned up in silence. When they finished, Wei Feng offered to share his lunch, but Lin Yuer declined. He'd gone days without food during missions. Missing one lunch was nothing.
What bothered him was the helplessness.
Phantom had been powerful. Feared. In control.
Lin Yuer was... none of those things.
This is what you wished for, he reminded himself. Ordinary.
Yeah, well, normal sucks.
Last Period: Physical Education
If there was one class Lin Yuer was confident about, it was PE.
He'd maintained peak physical condition his entire life. Sure, this body was weaker, but muscle memory was a powerful thing. He could still—
[WARNING! (￣□￣;)]
[Original Lin Yuer was TERRIBLE at sports!]
[Last in every race!]
[Can't do a single pull-up!]
[You must maintain the act!]
...You're joking.
[I never joke about missions! (`・ω・´)]
Lin Yuer changed into his PE uniform (also too small, also stained) and trudged out to the field where Coach Wang was waiting.
"Alright, ladies!" Coach Wang barked. He was built like a tank and had probably been a drill sergeant in a past life. "Five laps around the field! Move it!"
The students groaned but started jogging.
Lin Yuer joined them, forcing himself to run slow.
This is torture.
he shuffled along at the back of the pack, panting dramatically.
I hate everything about this.
"Come on, Lin Yuer!" Coach Wang shouted. "My grandmother runs faster than you, and she's been dead for ten years!"
Some students laughed.
Lin Yuer wanted to inform Coach Wang that he could run a mile in under four minutes and still have enough stamina to scale a building immediately after.
Instead, he wheezed, "Sorry... coach..."
By the time he finished the five laps (deliberately in last place), he was genuinely annoyed.
"Pathetic!" Coach Wang shook his head.
Lin Yuer was gathering his things from his locker when he heard footsteps behind him.
Zhang Hao and his entire crew were blocking the hallway. And this time, Zhang Hao was holding a baseball bat.
"You know," Zhang Hao said conversationally, tapping the bat against his palm, "I've been thinking. You've been getting too comfortable here, Lin Yuer. Acting like you belong."
Oh, is this the physical assault portion of the bullying? How predictable.
"Maybe it's time we reminded you of your place."
The other boys spread out, blocking any escape route.
A normal student would be terrified.
Lin Yuer analyzed the situation in half a second:
Seven targets. Leader armed with blunt weapon. Hallway is empty—no witnesses. Security cameras disabled in this section (noticed earlier). Escape routes: two. Optimal strategy: disable leader first, use momentum to—
[HOST! (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ]
[YOU CANNOT FIGHT BACK!]
[MISSION REQUIREMENT!]
Are you serious?! They're about to beat me up!
[YES! SERIOUS! VERY SERIOUS!]
[Original Lin Yuer never fought back! That's why no one suspected he had any skills!]
[If you fight back, you'll expose yourself immediately!]
So what, I'm just supposed to let them—
The first punch caught him in the stomach.
Lin Yuer doubled over, the breath knocked out of him. Not because the punch was particularly strong (it wasn't), but because he'd forced himself not to block it.
This is the worst.
Another hit. This one to his shoulder.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Zhang Hao sneered.
A kick to his legs brought Lin Yuer to his knees. His glasses fell off, clattering to the ground.
I've endured torture training. This is nothing.
But it still pisses me off.
"This is what happens—" Zhang Hao raised the baseball bat, "—when trash forgets its place!"
The bat swung down.
Lin Yuer's body moved automatically—a defensive block that would have stopped the bat and probably broken Zhang Hao's wrist in the process.
But at the last second, he forced himself to freeze.
The bat connected with his arm.
CRACZhang Hao and his crew laughed, high-fiving each other.
"Remember this, Lin Yuer," Zhang Hao said, dropping the bat. "You're nothing. You'll always be nothing."
They walked away, still laughing.
[DING! ✧.]*
[CONGRATULATIONS, HOST!]
[MISSION COMPLETE: Survived first day without revealing skills!]
[REWARD: +5 Beauty Points!]
[CURRENT BEAUTY LEVEL: 7/100]
[...Still pretty ugly though! (;^ω^）]
"Thanks," Lin Yuer muttered sarcastically. "That's really helpful right now."
He reached for his glasses, only to find them crushed under someone's shoe print.
As he limped out of the school, covered in bruises, with broken glasses and a ruined uniform, Lin Yuer thought about his previous life.
He'd faced international terrorists. Corrupt politicians. Cartel leaders. War criminals.
And he'd never felt as frustrated as he did right now.
Ordinary life is hell.
How do normal people DO this?
**[Author's Note:
AHHHH CHAPTER 2! ✧*.
Our poor MC is suffering! (╥﹏╥) But don't worry, the MLs are coming!
Cruel Missions"
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