My Roommate Was the Sub-Male Lead
"That hit the spot."
After the barbecue feast wrapped up, inside the carriage rumbling back to the academy, Rian muttered contentedly, his belly stuffed to bursting with protein and fat. The beast meat had nailed that perfect Maillard reaction—crisp on the outside, juicy within. Nothing in this lifetime had tasted quite so divine.
Vesperia beamed at his satisfied expression.
"I had a blast too! Let's hit up another spot for something tasty next time!"
"If you're buying."
"Pfft! Fine, fine—my treat!"
Vesperia burst into delighted giggles, even at his shameless reply. Beside her, Ardelia wore a faint smile.
"Today's meal was most satisfying for me as well. Next time, as promised, I shall treat you to the imperial chef's specialties."
"Looking forward to it."
Ardelia nodded gracefully. Already, her mind buzzed with schemes for bonding with that disaster-class mage boy.
By then, the carriage had pulled up to the grand gates of Solarrium Academy. The trio disembarked and were swiftly assigned their rooms.
"See you in class tomorrow!"
The four parted ways at the dorm district entrance. All three had landed spots in the elite Diamond Class, but even shared academics and years couldn't mix boys and girls in the same dorm. The academy enforced strict gender separation.
Ardelia and Vesperia headed for the women's east wing. Rian turned toward the men's west wing.
"This way. West wing's over here."
Iril took Rian's hand and led him along. At the entrance to the men's west wing—flanked by towering marble columns—she stopped.
"This is as far as I go."
She pulled a metallic card from her pocket, faintly glowing blue, and handed it to him.
"This is your room's Magic Authentication Key, with the number encoded. Slot it into the groove on the door handle and channel a bit of mana. It'll open."
"Biomana authentication instead of a password? Solid security."
"Diamond Class dorms, naturally. It's a two-to-a-room setup. Your roommate's probably already settled in, so no trouble on night one—behave. If you can't sleep, crack open those magic tomes I gave you."
Iril transferred a stack of grimoires—spells up to 7th-circle—into the subspace bracelet on his wrist.
Rian glanced at it and nodded.
"Got it. Yawn~ I'm beat anyway."
"Good—sleep tight. I'll drop by often."
Iril spun on her heel and vanished in a blink.
"Yawn. 'Often' is the last thing I need."
He had zero desire to keep seeing his scam-artist master's face—that centuries-old elf playing 13-year-old guardian. Muttering to himself, Rian decided to crash first. Yawning hugely, he swiped the key and slipped inside.
First stop: his room.
Room 402. Here we are.
At the heavy mahogany door at the corridor's end, Rian aligned the Magic Authentication Key with the groove in the handle, as Iril had instructed. He fed it a trickle of mana.
*Ding—click!*
The door swung open. Stepping inside, Rian let out a low whistle.
"Nice."
True to the Diamond Class name, it was luxurious. Plush carpet underfoot, massive fluffy beds against opposite walls. No awkward proximity issues with a roommate. Each setup boasted a fine desk and a compact workbench for basic magic experiments.
Barrier spell enclosure—safe for low-level tests.
As Rian took it in, someone looked up from the doorway commotion. A boy in a chair, nose-deep in a thick grimoire. Dazzling silver hair, sharp gray eyes cold as steel. Even at 13, he cut a striking, icy figure.
"So you're the roommate."
The boy snapped his book shut, frowning in clear distaste as he sized Rian up.
Rian's mental database from the original novel scanned at lightspeed.
Keywords: silver hair, gray eyes. Cold pretty boy. Magic division, Diamond Class.
Perfect match.
Asrion.
Grandson of the imperial mage tower lord. Per canon, he'd stuck to tower duties but was already hailed as a once-in-history genius among mages. Hit 3-Circle at 13, on track to shatter records with 4-Circle—the standard for full mages.
And above all...
The original's sub-male lead.
In that romance fantasy, he was a core supporting protag. Textbook tragic: genius mage pouring every ounce of talent and power into backing the heroine, Ardelia. Spitting blood for grand spells in her name. Ready to die for her.
Until the end, when he realizes her heart belongs to the main guy, Cassius. Bitterly gracious, the proud genius bows out, blessing their love.
Classic simp sub-lead—gives everything, gets zilch in romance. Tsk tsk.
Yet fangirls ate it up, Rian recalled. Baffling, really. Logically? Just idiocy. "Cool" or "touching"? Nah, incomprehensible.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Rian tuned it out. Futures and love lives? Irrelevant. All he craved was diving into that fluffy bed, riding the post-feast bliss to deep sleep.
"......"
Asrion's gaze, meanwhile, chilled to subzero. His gray eyes raked Rian head to toe. Cheap commoner rags. Reek of oak charcoal and meat grease over any cologne. Slouchy, unguarded gait screaming zero class. Undeniable slum rat.
Where'd they dig up this graceless pleb?
Deep furrows creased his brow. But the real irritant? Status meant squat to a tower-raised mage. In a meritocracy of pure skill, birthright was secondary. Especially in Diamond Class—empire's pinnacle talents.
Even a commoner should radiate overwhelming mana.
So why no mana ripple from this guy?
Asrion was a prodigy among prodigies—3-Circle at 13. His senses pierced most mages' circles. Yet this scrawny kid? Zero mana. Like a total normie clueless about magic.
Impossible.
He trusted the academy's fairness. How could a mana-less nobody room here?
Pure achievement-seeker Asrion needed answers. He shot to his feet, blocking Rian's path.
"Hey, pleb."
Ice-cold tone.
Rian, mid-shoe removal en route to bed-dive, turned with visible annoyance.
"What."
"You really a mage?"
Asrion's gray eyes dripped contempt and doubt.
"Diamond Class is for the empire's elite. But I sense zero mana from you. No circle traces. How'd trash like you get in?"
Sharp interrogation. Any norm would crumble under that aura and "genius" rep, scrambling to flare their mana.
But Asrion missing Rian's? Expected. Rian's level dwarfed his. More crucially, no flat ring-circle—a 4D tesseract beyond x-y-z axes. Massive power, zero leakage: perfect closed system. Even 9-Circle Iril barely clocked it fresh-formed. A 3-Circle kid? No shot.
Too lazy to explain phase math.
No way was Rian lecturing this future simp on it.
Blood rushing to my gut. Yawn—sleepy as hell.
Post-binge torpor owned him. Brain screamed bed.
"Ah, too full and sleepy—gonna crash. Don't block, move."
Rian waved him off, sidestepping.
That apathy snapped Asrion's restraint.
"Don't block? You calling me the blocker?!"
Voice rising.
"I'm a genius mage, bearer of the tower's pride! Prove you're a mage—how many circles?!"
"4-Circle."
Rian mumbled through heavy lids.
"...What?"
"Said 4-Circle. Answered. Now leave me alone. Sleeping."
Done. Eyes shut, snoring in one second flat.
"4-Circle...?"
Asrion's brain flatlined.