Chapter 22: Chapter: 22 Curse you, God!

Vivian admired his reflection in the mirror, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I really am one hell of a handsome guy,” he complimented himself, straightening the tuxedo-like black uniform that fit him perfectly.

The mirror returned the gaze of a boy with silky black hair that brushed against his neck and sharp blue eyes that gleamed with quiet confidence.

“Why aren’t my hair growing though?” he muttered, tugging lightly at the ends.

At home, his mother never let it get long, she would always trim it before it had the chance.

But now, free from her watchful eyes, he intended to grow it out, just like his favorite novel character.

“I want it to reach my waist so I can resemble the great love…” he sighed, frowning at the stubbornly short strands. “At this rate, I’ll be old before it ever happens.”

“Would a hair-growing serum work?” Vivian wondered aloud, his brows furrowing as he entertained the idea. But almost immediately, he shook his head in denial. “No… those are for bald people. What if I actually go bald from using it?” The thought alone made him shudder.

As he mulled over ridiculous methods to speed up his hair growth, his eyes caught the clock.

It was already 10:30. His first day at the academy, his very first class in this life, was about to begin.

Though he had lived to nineteen in his previous life, he had never once stepped into a school.

With his parents gone so early, survival had taken priority over education.

Now, standing here in a neat uniform, about to walk through the gates of an academy, a quiet sense of anticipation stirred in his chest.

For the first time, he was about to experience something he had always longed for.

Because Charlotte was busy handling the formalities of resigning as student council president, Vivian had to go to the academy alone today.

He felt a little disappointed, but curiosity quickly nudged him in a different direction. Would he get to see girls with big chests? he wondered, barely suppressing a foolish grin.

Then Charlotte’s parting warning flashed into his mind.

’Don’t hover around other girls,’ she warned, her fingers expertly buttoning his collar. ’If I so much as see you talking to one, I will make sure you regret it, my dear.’

Even now, thinking of her close-up gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

“But if I just do it in secret?” he thought, grinning to himself as he walked past the door and clicked the lock. No—Charlotte would really kill him if she found out. That thought snapped him back to reality.

The lodgings he and Charlotte shared were technically student housing, but anyone who saw it would call it a mansion.

High ceilings, heavy curtains, and a wide marble foyer made the place feel more like a private residence than a dorm.

He couldn’t help but smooth his uniform again, imagining how scandalous his long, waist-length hair would look in a place like this—if only it would hurry up and grow.

Vivian made his way toward the academy’s main building. It wasn’t far from the dorms he and Charlotte shared, but every step seemed heavier under the weight of stares drilling into his back.

Students along the path turned to look at him as though they were seeing someone they shouldn’t. Maybe it was because of Kafrik. After all, he had cut off the hand of their “beloved.”

The girls in particular looked at him as if they wanted to stab him on the spot, their eyes sharper than knives.

’Okay, I get it. He was your favorite. But can’t you just forget about it already?’ he screamed inwardly.

Outwardly, however, he remained as calm as still water, his expression betraying nothing as he continued toward his class.

After enduring the barrage of stares, Vivian finally reached his classroom. His very first class—literature.

He paused at the door, exhaling a long, steadying breath to calm the nervous thrum in his chest. Then, with a push, he stepped inside.

The room had been alive with chatter and laughter a moment ago, but his arrival smothered the noise into an abrupt hush.

Every gaze in the room shifted toward him, sharp and heavy, as though weighing his every step.

Vivian kept his expression neutral, pretending not to notice, and made his way to the far corner. Slipping into a seat by the window, he settled down quietly, trying to lose himself in the background.

’Sigh… I thought I’d make an entrance like the main character,’ Vivian lamented inwardly, slumping against his desk. ’Instead, I walked in like the main villain.’

His chest tightened with irritation. ’All because of that damned Kafrik. If I’d known things would turn out like this, I would’ve beaten him up properly before losing my mind.’

Meanwhile, the class had erupted into hushed chatter about him.

“Hey, isn’t that Vivian? He looks really handsome… should we try talking to him?” one girl whispered eagerly to her friend.

“I want to, but… would he even talk to me?” her friend hesitated, sneaking a shy glance at Vivian, who sat sulking in the corner.

“Maybe we should,” another girl chimed in, her tone uncertain. Though curiosity stirred among them, none dared to approach.

The boys, however, were far less reserved.

“Tch. What’s so special about him?” one snorted, glaring openly. “Sure, he’s a bit handsome, but that’s all. What else is there?”

’I can hear you,’ Vivian grumbled in his head, forcing himself to remain calm. But the mocking voices only grew louder.

“Even the princess likes a guy like him…”

That one pierced deeper than the rest. Vivian’s hand twitched as he prepared to shoot them a glare—but before he could, a clear voice rang out across the classroom.

“You’re Vivian, right?” a soft voice called from his side.

He turned, and the sight that greeted him nearly stole his breath.

A girl stood there clutching a booklet close to her chest. She wore the academy’s pristine white uniform for girls, her long hair as pure as freshly fallen snow, contrasting beautifully with her milk-like skin.

Her eyes, a deep shade of crimson, glimmered like polished gems. A faint blush colored her cheeks, soft as peach petals.

What impressed him most, however, was her chest. Not too large, not too small—just the perfect balance in his eyes.

’Finally, a girl approached me!’ He thought in delight, already rehearsing the cool, dignified way he wanted to introduce himself: ’Yes, I’m Vivian D. Zenithara.’

But reality betrayed him.

“H-hello… my name is… Vivian,” he stammered, his voice cracking.

’Fuck! I messed up the first impression!’ He cursed inwardly, while the girl simply smiled at him, her expression gentle and unbothered.

“Hehe,” she said with a giggle, “my name is Marinate Hamsborn.”

’Marinate Hamsborn?’ he muttered the familiar name then suddenly it hit him like a hammer.

’Huh? What?’He flinched, his eyes darting from her face to her chest. An internal siren blared through his mind, drowning out all reason: ’No, it can’t be, why? Why is everything messed up?’

The sheer discrepancy overwhelmed him. ’None of the characters are like what I wrote, and now it has crossed the limit.’

He’d specifically designed this character to have large ones, yet here she stood with medium ones.

The discrepancy was devastating. ’No, I cannot accept this.’ In all the other novels he’d read, the characters had always borne a striking similarity to their written versions; an author could identify them just by looking. But in his case, the characters were far from being the ones he wrote.

’No, no, I will just take my life. There is nothing to live for.’

’Curse you, God!’ The words were silent, but his fury was absolute. He cursed the deity he had only just been praising the other day, unable to reconcile this disastrous detail.

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