The Price of Survival
"Would you... be my friend?" Sylvia asked me, her voice laced with caution. It was the very thing I had yearned for ever since I fell into this world. I was becoming friends with a girl so beautiful that, in my original life, I wouldn't have even dared to speak to her. My heart wanted to cheer, to dance, to shout for joy. I smiled and nodded. Sylvia seemed so delighted by that gesture that she beamed. Watching that smile, I felt a genuine surge of joy, of happiness. Every time I saw her at school, those feelings would swell up. I had decided on this. I had decided to be her friend. So, I shoved every other conflicting emotion into a dark corner of my mind. I forced myself not to acknowledge them, not to think about them. Desperately suppressing the flames that threatened to consume me from within, I kept smiling.
After class, I stopped by the infirmary to have my left arm treated. "I told you not to do anything that would strain your hand!" As expected, I got a lecture, but since I was the one at fault, I just took it quietly. Fortunately, the wound hadn't reopened too badly, and the treatment was quick. It was a miracle that I’d gotten away with just this after swatting away a falling iron sign with my bare hand. If my physical stats hadn't been so high, it wouldn't have been strange if my left arm had been completely mangled. I tossed the blood-stained bandage, wrapped a fresh one around my arm, and left the school. Regardless of the pain, it was a joyous day—I had finally succeeded in becoming friends with Sylvia. With a light step, I walked from school to my apartment. I climbed the stairs, opened the door to the second floor, and slipped into my cramped room. I shut the door behind me with a sharp click. The moment it closed, the emotions I had forced into the corner came rushing back with a vengeance. My hands began to tremble.
I threw my bag onto the bed and began stripping off my clothes with shaking fingers. Hurry, hurry. My desperation only made my hands tremble more. Once I was naked, I tried to undo the bandage I’d just had replaced. But the infirmary teacher, as a warning, had wrapped it tighter than before, and it took longer than I expected to unwind. In the end, I gave up halfway and bolted into the bathroom. I turned the lever, and as the shower water poured down, flames erupted from my body. The cascading water met the fire and turned into steam, filling the bathroom with a thick, suffocating haze. My breathing grew ragged. I couldn't tell if it was because of the steam filling the room or the emotions clawing at my chest.
When I first fell into this world, my first thought—even through the panic—was how to survive as long as possible. The first idea that crossed my mind was to stick to Yoon Siwoo like glue. But recalling the contents of Academy’s Holy Swordsman, I realized that was a fool's errand. It might have been fine in the early chapters, but as the story progressed, Yoon Siwoo, the protagonist, became the epicenter of every catastrophe. And while he struggled to overcome adversity, the people around him died for various reasons. Whether they were used as sacrifices for the protagonist's awakening or simply to make the story more dramatic, I didn't know the author's true intent, but even characters I thought were "safe" were killed off without mercy. But leaving his side didn't guarantee survival, either. It was only natural that a world without Yoon Siwoo—who possessed powers strong enough to be a protagonist—would still be overflowing with lethal threats.
However, there was one character who survived until the very end, regardless of whether she was by the protagonist's side or not. That was Sylvia Astra. She was the one standing right next to Yoon Siwoo, possessing such extraordinary beauty that she was pegged as a heroine candidate from the very beginning. That was the biggest reason she became the main heroine. Because she survived. How could a dead heroine be called the main heroine? That was why I decided to keep my distance from Yoon Siwoo and get close to Sylvia; I believed that was the best way to survive. Since we were in the same class, I planned to become her friend so we could naturally spend time together. I believed that was my only lifeline, so I poured everything I had into that plan.
She absolutely loved macarons. Because people had always tried to use her since she was young, she wanted a friend who didn't want anything from her. That was about all the useful information I had, but it was enough. There were two things I had to be careful about. First, to give her macarons without asking for anything other than her friendship. Second, to control my thoughts so that Yoon Siwoo, who possessed the Holy Sword of Truth, wouldn't sense anything strange. The Holy Sword of Truth simply judged the veracity of words or expressions. I knew from reading the original work that if I strongly believed a lie to be the truth, the sword would judge it as such, so deceiving it wasn't difficult. That was why, whenever I looked at Sylvia, I pushed all other thoughts aside and focused intensely on the idea that she was beautiful and that I wanted to be her friend. I was already used to hiding my hardships and telling myself I was fine, so it wasn't particularly difficult.
But every time I saw Sylvia slowly opening her heart to me, I realized it wasn't going to be easy. My plan to become friends with her had hit a snag thanks to Yoon Siwoo, but I remembered that Leonor, whom I’d met by chance, kept in touch with Sylvia, so I devised a new plan. I would invite Leonor to my house and let her know I was making homemade macarons for Sylvia. In truth, I could have easily learned how to make macarons online. I invited her over because I was certain that Leonor, with her meddlesome personality from the original work, would tell Sylvia about me. I knew the Sylvia I was familiar with couldn't possibly reject macarons from me after hearing that. And the plan was a grand success. I had finally succeeded in becoming friends with Sylvia.
I felt happy, and I felt relieved. But more than that, I was so angry I couldn't stand it. Angry at myself for standing by and watching the deaths of countless people just to survive. Angry at myself for planning to use a kind person who thought of me as a friend. Angry at myself for becoming exactly the kind of person I hated most. And yet, I felt disgusted that I was still happy and relieved. I was furious, but I didn't have the courage to choose a different path.
...
After standing under the shower for a long time, the flames flickering from my body finally died down. I turned off the shower and opened the bathroom door. The steam that had filled the room spilled out, blurring my vision. Through the haze, I saw my cramped room. My school uniform lay scattered on the floor. Among the clothes, a bandage with a teddy bear print—which must have fallen out of my pocket—lay on the ground. Without realizing it, I sank to the floor and clutched the bandage in my hand. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Even though this was all my own choice. Now, I couldn't even tell what I wanted anymore. "......It's so hard," I muttered. My blurred vision wavered. Perhaps because I had just showered, water droplets were dripping onto the floor. I listened to the sound blankly, then, on a sudden impulse, I opened the refrigerator door. Inside, I saw the ingredients for macarons. Yeast. And, tucked away in the corner, a chocolate. The one the class representative had given me.
'Eat this if you're having a hard time.'
I took out the chocolate she had pressed into my hand—the one that had melted in my pocket and hardened into an ugly shape. I shouldn't, I shouldn't. Even as I thought that, I slowly tore open the stubborn wrapper and put it in my mouth. The chocolate was sweet. It was so sweet that I couldn't help but wince. There were still other chocolates the class representative had given me left in the fridge. But just one was enough for me. Just like she said, that sweets were the best when things were tough, I felt a little bit of strength returning to my body. I owed her a debt, so I had to pay it back.
I put on my pajamas, tidied up the uniform on the floor, and opened the window. The steam that had filled the room slowly drifted out. Through the escaping mist, I could see the street. It was only the second floor, so I couldn't see much, but there were people walking below. It was peaceful, and honestly, that was a better sight. Perhaps because the steam that had filled my head had cleared, my mind felt sharp. I made dinner, ate, and lay down on the bed. I could feel my hands trembling, but I didn't clasp them together.
The next morning, I woke up early to make macarons, had breakfast, and headed to school early. When I opened the door to the faculty office, I saw Eve, whose mood seemed particularly somber today. For the class representative, and for Eve. Since I was a coward, this was the only way I could pay back my debts. I approached her and opened my mouth.