I Choose Which Side Characters Pass

Right up until catching up with the proctor and the vanguard group, the party had indulged in grand expectations.

‘Just how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠confident in their abilities must they be to stay in the lead group without even bothering to clear the side objectives?’

‘They’ve gotta be sharp little devils, right? Veteran pros who crushed every trial and banded together at the front, no doubt.’

‘If we stir-fry the shiitake mushrooms for dinner tonight, what should we have tomorrow? I really want to gather more cooking ingredients.’

The vanguard group: expectation.

A brotherhood of champions.

Formidable, unshakeable elites.

A suffocating deluge of murderous intent pouring from every direction at the sudden arrival of worthy rivals!

The reality awaiting them, however, was utterly pathetic.

“Should I head back for the side objective now? But there are so many competitors... Then again, skipping it makes me nervous... But I don't have the confidence to win either...”

“What if I lose sight of the proctor while going for the side objective? I’m not sure I can keep up... If I get lost and end up stranded, the humiliation will be unreal... How could I ever face my father back home?”

“I'll let this flower petal decide. Go, don’t go, go, don’t go, go. Hmm. Hmmm. A violet just doesn't have enough petals, does it? Right, let’s divine my fate with a different flower.”

The vanguard group: reality.

A wretched den of absolute cowards.

Timid, indecisive scrubs.

Eyes nervously darting away in avoidance the moment fresh competitors showed up!

“It seems our imaginations ran a bit wild,” Giselle remarked, adjusting his collar.

“Ain't they just a pack of clueless fools?” Son Ocheon scoffed.

“Excuse me, mister,” I chimed in, pointing at the petals. “If you aren't going to eat that violet, could you give it to us?”

Having steadily cleared secondary objectives along the way, our party had overtaken the ranks until we practically reigned supreme over the front line.

‘So only three people here are actually relaxed? Figures. They're all primary cast members.’

There was Irene, Daughter of the Northern Grand Duke, following right behind Proctor Minerva with a stoic, stone-cold expression.

Sing, the Eastern Swordsman, who strolled along placidly before suddenly cleaving down a massive tree like a lunatic, smirking to himself in deep satisfaction.

And Jigoku, the privateer pirate, twirling a revolver across his fingers with a look of utter boredom before firing a pair of shots casually into the empty sky.

‘I am steering completely clear of that one.’

Every single one of them was an unexploded ordnance waiting for a spark.

Jigoku was by far the worst of the bunch.

Irene and Sing were aloof apex predators who paid no mind to their surroundings so long as no one encroached upon their personal territory. Jigoku, on the other hand, was an evil-aligned menace who took genuine delight in plundering and stripping others of everything they owned!

Get drawn in by that flaming scarlet hair and brazen swagger, and you would find yourself swept up in fatal disaster long before graduation day rolled around.

“Oho.”

I literally just told myself not to come this way.

“You lot look pretty relaxed,” Jigoku said, swaggering over. “Sitting on quite a few points, aren't you?”

“What's it to ya?” Son Ocheon snapped aggressively. “Looking for a fight?”

Bang!

The revolver spat fire before the words had even fully left his mouth.

Clang!

Son Ocheon swung his staff in a blur, deflecting the lead slug cleanly out of the air. His face twisted in pure disbelief.

“Are you completely out of your mind?!”

“You didn't die, so what's the harm? Kehehe.”

Holstering the smoking gun, Jigoku placed a hand against Son Ocheon’s staff and casually shoved it aside.

“Out of the way.”

“Whoa, what—?!”

While Son Ocheon was forced backward with a dumbfounded grunt, completely overpowered in sheer physical strength, the unhinged pirate abruptly thrust a freshly shot sparrow right under my nose.

“Here.”

“You're... giving this to me?”

Why thrust game at me out of nowhere?

“Listen, runt. A kid needs to eat plenty to grow up nice and tall.”

“...!”

“In times like this, you're supposed to say, ‘Thank you, Big Sister.’ Oh, and keep the ‘Big Sister’ part between us, got it?”

Leaving behind that parting whisper, Jigoku sauntered away as if handing over the sparrow had been the sole objective all along.

“A dangerous individual,” Giselle muttered grimly. “Known throughout the South as the ‘Red-Haired Beast of Hell,’ a privateer of absolute infamy.”

“A privateer pirate?” Son Ocheon barked. “The hell is someone like that doing taking the Academy entrance exam?”

“The rumors claim she liquidated her entire fortune and came ashore after leaving behind just a single remark: ‘I'm bored.’ Even among black-market brokers, she's infamous as a fiery eccentric.”

“Don't you dare speak ill of Miss Jigoku!” I protested firmly.

“...Miss Orknodi? If you're harboring any starry-eyed admiration for pirates, thinking guns look cool or tricorn hats look fashionable, I must urge you to—”

“She shared food with me.”

“...Ah. Of course. That's what it was.”

Uncle Giselle wore an expression of sheer helplessness, caught between relief and terror over how frighteningly easy it was to win my favor.

Hey, anyone who shares food is a saint in my book. It lets me fill out the Food Compendium without lifting a finger. By gamer standards, anyone who facilitates your character's stat progression is inherently a force of pure good!

‘Starting today, Jigoku is officially classified as Lawful Good!’

“All right, two-hour break,” Minerva announced, halting the march. “Hunt for food, take a nap, or go scramble for the final secondary objective. Suit yourselves.”

Exhausted examinees collapsed onto the turf in droves.

This was our chance.

“Let's find the duo that betrayed Dorothy.”

“Ah, if it's them you're looking for, I have already located their position. Over there.”

Giselle pointed toward a clearing. Standing there was a woman with braided hair, dressed in high-end attire—a crisp white blouse cinched by a bustier corset that accentuated her chest—accompanied by a young man wearing a thoroughly miserable scowl.

‘Bribery’—the signature specialization of merchant NPCs. Given the unmistakable prompt hinting at an extortion route, there was zero doubt: this was the merchant heiress and Dorothy's treacherous childhood friend.

“How did you spot them so fast?”

“Observe their expressions,” Giselle explained smoothly. “Blended into a sea of anxious applicants, they might escape an untrained eye. But the countenance of a man devoured by guilt possesses an entirely distinct grain.”

“You can tell that just by looking?”

“Reading human emotion is the bare minimum for a merchant. A person's face reveals far more than they realize.”

“Then look at my face! What am I thinking right now?”

Giselle smirked faintly.

“You are eagerly deliberating the precise method and timing for roasting that sparrow you were just handed.”

“Whoa! Uncle Giselle, you're incredible!”

“Bwahaha!” Son Ocheon bellowed with a hearty laugh. “Even I could read that runt's mind. Tack anything food-related onto your guess and you'll hit the mark ninety percent of the time!”

Stop treating me like an unhinged glutton!

...Not that he was wrong, but being called out so accurately was mildly humiliating!

Regardless, the tracks around the suspicious pair matched the footprints I had memorized earlier down to the sole pattern, depression depth, and stride length.

Dorothy had laid it all out. Her cowardly childhood friend had dumped her the second she drew the disadvantageous 'It' role in the game of tag, taking off with the merchant guild scion who had funded their journey from their home village.

Hearing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠'merchant guild scion' had piqued my suspicions, but seeing their faces in the flesh locked it down.

‘I remember now. That Upper Class supporting duo players would recruit whenever heading out to the forest field for practical training.’

Under normal circumstances, these two would have navigated the second trial smoothly and secured their enrollment.

Assuming, of course, that I, Orknodi, had never intervened.

“You two!” I called out, stepping into view.

“My goodness,” the woman cooed, plastering on a saccharine smile. “What an adorable little lady. Look, Rockfell.”

“Sigh... I don't know what you want, little girl,” Rockfell muttered without looking up, “but we aren't in a position to help you.”

“Is that why you didn't help Dorothy, either?”

“Wh-Where did you hear that name?!” Yui gasped, her face draining of color.

“...Child,” Rockfell breathed, his head snapping up with tormented eyes. “Did you run into Dorothy?”

Yui was turning pale; Rockfell looked utterly gutted. Their pupils trembled in frantic synchronization.

My gaze naturally gravitated toward the heavily endowed Yui. In the original game, clearing her favorability events let the player steal her away from Rockfell entirely, turning her into an NTR conquest heroine.

‘I deserved this.’

That was Rockfell's catchphrase—surrendering his own girl while spouting maddeningly pathetic excuses, the textbook archetype ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of a cuckolded male lead. Players had endlessly debated why a handsome, highly competent guy who wasn't lacking down below would roll over like a spineless push-over to let another man steal his partner. Now, standing before him, the answer was painfully obvious.

The guy had simply allowed himself to be ruined, crushed beneath the sheer weight of guilt from abandoning his childhood friend during this very entrance exam.

What an idiot.

If you were going to wallow in regret, you shouldn't have abandoned her in the first place. Tossing Dorothy aside like trash only to play the tragic martyr afterward—how utterly revolting.

“Sob... Poor Miss Dorothy,” Yui whimpered, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief. “What will she do...?”

“Dorothy...” Rockfell groaned, clutching his head like a broken husk.

Watching this nauseating melodrama unfold made my decision simple.

“Take this!”

I lunged forward and slapped a hand firmly onto Yui's forearm.

“Y-You... wait! Don't tell me you were—?!”

“That's right,” I beamed cheerfully. “I was ‘It.’”

To be completely honest, she rubbed me entirely the wrong way.

Sure, Rockfell was a fool who would lose the woman he threw his hometown friend away for and turn into a derelict, but what about her? She had instigated the whole betrayal, whispering poison into his ear, only to turn around and pretend to be an innocent, grieving victim. And in the original game, she went on to offer herself up to an alpha male protagonist, living happily ever after through pure social climbing!

The term ‘sly vixen’ was coined for women like her. Back when I played male avatars with my brain situated south of the belt, I might have indulged it. But now that I was inhabiting a female body, my brain was firmly seated in my skull.

“I hope you suffer twice as hard as Dorothy did before flunking out,” I offered with a bright smile.

“R-Rockfell!” Yui shrieked in horror. “Grab that brat, quickly!”

“Yui.”

“What is with that look?! If I get disqualified, you'll be left with no one! Are you seriously okay with that?!”

“You said it yourself,” Rockfell muttered, his voice hollow. “Being 'It' makes someone dead weight. You said that no matter how deep our history was, we had to discard precious bonds if we wanted to pass this exam and rebuild our hometown.”

Rockfell made no move to intercept us. He turned his back on her with cold finality.

“Thank you for everything, Yui. But this is as far as we go.”

“Without me?!” Yui shrieked hysterically. “Do you honestly think you can track down the Black Hat Proctor before time runs out without me?! Do you still not understand that passing without my guidance is impossible?!”

“...I'll figure something out.”

“Little girl, listen to me!” Yui pivoted toward me, her eyes manic. “Think this through! Big Sister is loaded with cash. My father runs an influential merchant guild. If you help me pass, I will give you a thousand gold coins! How about it?!”

Right on cue, the ‘Bribery’ mechanic flagged by the event notification landed on the table.

Had I been saddled with a destitute deadbeat of a father, that kind of sum might have genuinely swayed me. Throwing away a thousand gold coins just for the sake of honor toward Dorothy, whom I had only met briefly, would be a agonizing choice for anyone. Even starting out as an aristocratic heiress, my initial emergency allowance had only been a hundred gold coins. A thousand was a staggering fortune.

“I already have plenty of money,” I replied casually. “I can make plenty more, too. And besides...”

Compared to securing enrollment in the Academy’s elite Upper Class, a thousand gold coins was chump change.

“...We don't need to go looking for the proctor, anyway.”

Reaching into my coat, I pulled out the Black Hat and pulled it snug over my head.

“Hey, runt,” Son Ocheon grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you really have to pull that out right in front of them?”

“A rather hasty maneuver,” Giselle sighed.

My bad, Ocheon. Sorry, Giselle.

When I thought about it, though, this angle opened up far better possibilities.

“Since things turned out like this, I wanted to give that guy one last chance.”

Back when I was a male player, stealing Yui away was the only route available. But now that I was a girl, couldn't I pull an uno-reverse card and snatch away Rockfell, the perpetually abandoned, tragic tool?

Yui—a busty NTR heroine who had once ranked within the top twenty most popular characters among the original player base.

Now, stripped of her companion, tagged with the dreaded 'It' role, and left completely stranded to face disqualification, the color drained entirely from her face.