008 Entrance Exam - Part 2 - Mark’s POV

  “So far, so good.”

  Strategy No. 2: Entrance Exam—Steal the Heroine!

  According to Mom, there was supposed to be a big event between the heroine and one of the love interests today. A high-tension, life-or-death moment. Great for bonding. Mom explained it was technically the tutorial round for players.

  So what was the strategy?

  And what was my role in this strategy?

  Simple. Steal the heroine.

  We ran through the halls, me in the lead, dragging her along as she tripped over her own feet. I didn’t slow down. We had places to be. If Mom’s notes were right, we were heading for the safest hiding spot in the entire academy.

  The rooftop of the staff dormitories.

  It was at the edge of the academy, past the main buildings, and overlooked by almost everyone. The logic was simple: staff members were snitches. If students hid near them, they got caught immediately. But if you actually managed to sneak past all the staff?

  You disappeared.

  And if I was good at anything, it was disappearing.

  We reached the final staircase. I kicked the door open. The rooftop was empty, just as I expected. Open space, a few air conditioning units, a maintenance hatch, and a couple of benches.

  Perfect.

  I let go of the girl’s wrist. She staggered, bent over, and wheezed like she’d just run a marathon.

  “Y-you… absolute… psycho…” she gasped.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She shot me a glare between ragged breaths. “That—wasn’t—a compliment—”

  I ignored her and checked the area. No security cameras. No nosy teachers. And most importantly, no students.

  It was quiet.

  We were safe.

  For now.

  “My name’s Mark,” I said, leaning against the wall.

  She lay sprawled on the ground, arms wide like a starfish, wheezing like a dying fish.

  “W-where are we?” she gasped.

  “You should sit up. It’s better that way,” I advised.

  She let out a pathetic groan and, instead of standing, rolled onto her stomach like a dying sloth. Then she crawled into a half-seated position with all the grace of roadkill.

  Was it really that bad? I was the one doing most of the work.

  I sighed. “Rooftop. Staff dormitory. Best place we can hide. Perfect, because my ESP makes us… hard to notice.”

  She blinked sweat out of her eyes. “ESP?”

  I nodded. “My power makes people… forget me. Or rather, it makes me irrelevant. The more people believe I don’t matter, the stronger the effect.”

  A hint of wariness crossed her face. “That’s… creepy.”

  I shrugged. “It has its uses.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but she was too exhausted to argue.

  I glanced at the academy grounds from the edge of the rooftop. Below us, the game was still in motion. Students were scattered across the courtyards, dashing into buildings or hiding behind obstacles. Professors, acting as seekers, were already closing in.

  Most of them would get caught.

  We wouldn’t. If not, at least outlast the rest of them.

  I leaned back against the wall, hands in my pockets. “Relax. We’re in the safest place possible. No one comes here. No one even thinks to look here.”

  Mirai groaned and flopped onto her back. “If you kidnapped me just to hide on a roof, I’m gonna kill you.”

  I smirked. Good luck with that.

  “What’s so wrong with hiding on the roof?” I asked.

  She wasn’t looking at me. Not directly. Her gaze kept flicking between the rooftop door and me, standing right beside it.

  Not a coincidence. I’d positioned myself there on purpose. If someone managed to find us, I’d have the advantage of a sneak attack by hiding near the only entrance and exit in this place.

  She swallowed, then hesitantly asked, “You… aren’t going to teach me a lesson?”

  I frowned. “A lesson?”

  Why would I—?

  Oh.

  That.

  A certain incident came rushing back.

  A bicycle. A piece of bread. A girl speeding toward me like a damn truck.

  And then—boom.

  I’d blacked out.

  And now, here we were. Because of Mom’s insane instructions.

  If she hadn’t pushed me into following her absurd romance playbook, none of this would’ve happened. Then again… I wasn’t any better. I was still here, playing along with her so-called Strategies, following them to the letter.

  I sighed. What the hell am I doing?

  “So, Whitey—”

  “I have a name,” I interrupted.

  Mirai sighed. “Fine. Mark it is.” She stretched her legs out, glancing around the rooftop. “How long do we have to wait?”

  I checked my watch. 1:45 PM.

  The test would last until 5:00 PM. I knew this because Mom practically spelled it out in her journal, right alongside the best hiding spots, potential scripted events, and ideal strategies to get close to the heroine. But obviously, I couldn’t just say that.

  Instead, I said, “Class schedules are usually from eight to five, so probably until five.”

  Mirai groaned. “Seriously?”

  “They’re going to find us no matter what,” I said. “They probably have a list of all our names. Maybe even a secret tracking method if they feel like cheating. This is more of an assessment than a battle exam anyway. The goal isn’t to win—it’s to see how we act under pressure.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  That’s why hiding was just as valid as fighting.

  And that’s why I was here.

  The exam was called “Hide and Seek” for a reason.

  Okay. This was the perfect moment… I guess?

  Mom said it was important to do this, no matter what. That was the exact phrasing she used. And when Mom said something was important, it usually meant life-or-death levels of importance.

  Was it actually life or death? No.

  Did I feel like I was about to die from sheer secondhand embarrassment? Absolutely.

  Mirai, sensing the tension on my face, tensed up herself.

  Great. Now she thinks I’m about to say something serious.

  "What is it, Mark?"

  I hesitated, suddenly overthinking things. Maybe I should stall. Buy some time. Yeah, that sounded smart. "Mirai…"

  Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

  "You left it in your letter. The one you gave the nurse."

  "Ah… that one…" Mirai scratched her cheek, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that."

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  I could do this. It was just a pickup line.

  How hard could it be?

  "Are you made of copper and tellurium?"

  Mirai blinked. "Huh?"

  I steeled myself and delivered the punchline.

  "Because you're… Cu-Te."

  Silence.

  Awkward, crushing silence.

  Then suddenly—

  "Pfft—hahaha! W-wait, what?!"

  Mirai practically doubled over, full-on wheezing.

  I felt heat rush to my face. "Wait, why are you laughing?!"

  She kept going, clutching her sides. "I mean… haha… this psycho… I can’t…!"

  Her shoulders shook, her laughter echoing across the rooftop.

  I felt my soul leave my body.

  This was not the reaction I expected.

  Mom, what the hell?!

  According to her, the heroine would either find it charming or awkwardly endearing. Instead, Mirai was absolutely losing it, like I’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

  I stood there, frozen in shame, as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

  Fine. Laugh all you want. I’d recover from this.

  Or at least, that’s what I thought—until she suddenly straightened up, cleared her throat, and smirked at me.

  "Are you gold?"

  I blinked. "W-what?"

  I wasn’t ready. I was never ready.

  "Because you’ve got me saying—" She paused for dramatic effect, grinning ear to ear. "Auuu, damn!"

  Oh.

  Oh no.

  Heat rushed straight to my ears.

  A dumb noise almost slipped out, so I slapped a hand over my mouth like that would help.

  Shit. She's cute.

  Mirai leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. "G-get it? Gold? Because Au? Auuu, damn!"

  Her own joke cracked her up, and she burst into giggles again.

  I stared at her, completely disarmed.

  Mom never mentioned what to do if she fired back.

  I turned away. Avoided eye contact.

  Tried to focus on literally anything else—the rooftop railing, the sky, the distant sounds of students running below us.

  She was too cute.

  Stop it, heart. Stop.

  Mirai waved a hand in front of my face. "Hey, where are you looking?"

  Nowhere. Nowhere at all. Definitely not at her.

  She was teasing me—I could hear it in her voice, see it in the way she tilted her head and leaned in, determined to force eye contact.

  I stared harder at the sky.

  She stepped closer.

  "Hey, why so quiet?" Mirai poked my shoulder. "You started this, remember?"

  She stood on her toes, trying to match my height, her face now way too close for comfort.

  I shut my eyes.

  Mom, help!

  Then, I felt it.

  Fwooo~!

  She blew air into my ear.

  I flinched like a spooked cat. My whole body tensed—I crouched—

  Bad move.

  In the worst possible chain reaction, I bumped into her.

  "Ah—!"

  "Whoa—!"

  We lost our balance.

  Mirai yelped. I grunted.

  The next thing I knew, we hit the floor.

  I groaned, rubbing my head. "Ugh."

  Mirai winced. "Ouch."

  The impact left me flat on my back, with Mirai on top of me.

  Her legs straddled my stomach.

  Her hands pinned under mine.

  We both froze, realizing the position at the same time.

  She squirmed, trying to push off—but I instinctively held her wrists down.

  She wasn’t getting out of this one. No way I was losing this.

  And then—

  A thought crossed my mind.

  A terrible thought.

  "Are you made of beryllium and gold?"

  Mirai hiccuped. "W-what?"

  I smirked, ignoring every instinct screaming at me to shut up.

  "Because you’re… Be-Au-tiful."

  Cringe alert. CRINGE ALERT.

  I braced for impact—laughter, teasing, maybe even a punch.

  But instead—

  Mirai’s ears burned red.

  Her gaze darted to the side, hands curling slightly under my grip.

  She was flustered.

  Wait… is this… working?!

  Victory.

  …Victory?

  I—I don’t know.

  Pain exploded in my throat.

  Thwack!

  "Kuooghf—!"

  Palm strike.

  I choked, my airways slamming shut.

  I let go.

  Mirai scrambled to her feet and sprinted toward a vending machine.

  She jammed a coin in, grabbed a bottle of mineral water, and chugged it down like she’d just finished a marathon.

  I sat up, rubbing my throat. "What the hell was that for?!"

  Mirai lowered the bottle, wiped her mouth, and shot me a glare.

  "Survival instinct."

  I groaned and pushed myself up, rubbing my sore throat.

  That… was a solid hit. She must’ve had some self-defense training.

  “Uuuummm… I am sorry?”

  Mirai glared at me with burning intensity, her grip tightening on the bottle.

  Then, just as quickly, her gaze softened.

  Mirai sighed. "Why are you saying sorry, psycho?"

  I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

  “W-w-m-m…”

  What was I even apologizing for? No clue. It just felt like the right thing to do.

  Mirai chuckled. “Weird. You’re okay with being called a psycho, but not Whitey?”

  I blinked. Huh. Yeah, that was weird.

  I let out a long breath, welcoming the distraction.

  “Probably because Mom… is a psycho.”

  It was wrong to badmouth my mom.

  But…

  I’d had so few interactions like this.

  Real conversations.

  Ones where I wasn’t just following a script or executing a strategy.

  I felt… vulnerable.

  At least when my mom was around, I knew she had my back.

  Evelyn Valentine was a force of nature.

  No matter what happened, I knew she’d bulldoze through anything in her way.

  But here? Right now?

  I was fumbling.

  The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

  "Do you know? My mom thinks we live in an otome video game. And that there’s this girl she must set me up with, no matter what, or else I’ll suffer a doomed fate.”

  Mirai quirked a brow. “An arranged marriage, then?”

  I froze.

  That wasn’t… exactly wrong.

  But it wasn’t right either.

  I stopped myself before I spilled anything more.

  This was already dangerously close to strategy failure.

  “…Yeah. Something like that.”

  Mirai leaned against the vending machine, rolling the water bottle against her palm.

  "I think you're free to like who you want to like, you know?”

  She gave me a small, knowing smile.

  “People only have one heart, after all."

  I swallowed.

  For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

  One heart.

  Her words lingered longer than they should have.

  A quiet, uncomfortable heat settled in my chest.

  Mirai was smiling, but her eyes…

  They weren’t teasing anymore.

  I forced a laugh. “Yeah. I guess.”

  She tilted her head. “Guess?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing toward the edge of the rooftop.

  “Look, it’s complicated.”

  Mirai’s smile widened. “Sounds simple to me.”

  Simple?

  My mom would riot if she heard that.

  Mirai stepped closer. Just a little.

  Close enough that I could see the amusement dancing in her eyes.

  "Or maybe… you just like making things complicated."

  My heart skipped a beat.

  I took a step back.

  Mirai took a step forward.

  “W-wait—” I felt the wall behind me, realizing I’ve put myself in a rather dangerous situation. “Uuuuh… Calm down… Please?”

  “Relax, psycho,” she grinned. “I’m not gonna hurt you or anything.”

  I scoffed. "Gee, thanks." It was ironic, considering it was coming to the girl who just slammed me with her bicycle and struck my throat with the heel of her palm. The former wasn’t exactly her fault, but the latter? That was definitely on her…

  "...Sorry about your throat."

  I blinked. "Huh?"

  Her gaze drifted toward the floor. "And… for hitting you with my bike earlier."

  Oh. Right.

  "I mean…" She fidgeted with her sleeve. "I panicked."

  "Yeah, I noticed," I deadpanned.

  Her mouth twitched. "But I guess you did deserve it, saying something like that while pinning me down."

  "Hey, that was a good line."

  "It was something." She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "Be-Au-tiful? Really? Just a little bit more and you could do stand-up comedy."

  I opened my mouth to defend myself—

  —and shut it when I saw the way her lips twitched upward.

  Ah. She was teasing me again.

  Mirai’s gaze softened as she knelt down beside me. "Let me see your head."

  I tensed. "It’s fine."

  She gave me a flat look. "You’re bleeding."

  "Am I?" I touched my temple. My fingers came away with a faint smear of red.

  Ah. Okay, maybe not fine.

  Mirai sighed. "Hold still."

  She reached into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled handkerchief. Before I could protest, she pressed it gently to the side of my head.

  I hissed. "Ow."

  "Stop squirming."

  "I’m not squirming—"

  "Shut up."

  Her hand was steady as she dabbed at the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle.

  I tried not to focus on the feeling of her fingers brushing against my skin.

  Failed.

  "You're really bad at this, you know."

  "At what?" I mumbled.

  "Letting people help you."

  I almost flinched. That… hit closer to home than it should have.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge,” I remarked.

  Mirai pulled away to inspect her work. She frowned. "You’ll need a new bandage. And I want my handkerchief back. Clean. Okay?"

  “Thanks,” I shrugged. "I'll survive."

  Mirai rolled her eyes. "Idiot."