You're Romance Fantasy Protagonists, Not Battle Maniacs?!

The smell came first.

A stench stabbed my nose and dragged me awake before consciousness had even returned. An indescribable reek of rot mixed with char, as if something had been left half-burned...

"Ugh."

I tried to sit up and realized I'd been sprawled on the floor. An opulent interior stretched around me — marble under my palms, a chandelier hanging from a high ceiling. This was definitely not my studio apartment.

And a full-length mirror stood right in front of me.

The man in the glass was the kind of dazzlingly handsome figure that would draw a gasp from anyone. Melancholic silver hair, a sorrowful gaze, flawless aristocratic poise — a face you could put on a romance fantasy cover without changing a thing.

But the stench radiating from this handsome body canceled out every last bit of that admiration. I lifted my shirt and sniffed. The source was my entire body. It wasn't sweat. It was something more fundamental — a nauseating aura welling up from deep inside.

What is this. This isn't a smell a human body should make.

I endured the discomfort and looked in the mirror again — then froze in horror.

"Of all people, Adrian Wienheim?"

The owner of the body I'd possessed was the second male lead of the romance fantasy novel I'd fallen asleep reading last night: The Crown Princess Wants to Escape.

I was the textbook losing male lead — the one who blindly loves the heroine, gets utterly crushed by the real male lead, the Crown Prince, and whose entire family burns along with him.

Anyone even slightly familiar with this genre knows how the losing male lead's story usually ends. He makes a spectacle of himself with his obsession over the heroine, blocks the Crown Prince's path at a critical moment, and pays for it with stripped titles, imprisonment, or — if he's unlucky — a trip to the guillotine.

And this Adrian had followed that course without a single deviation. He appears at the start of volume one and loses his head at the tail end of volume four — a launch pad to bring the heroine and the male lead together. Nothing more, nothing less.

And I'd gone and possessed that guy... talk about rotten luck.

...Wait. Why am I this calm?

It was strange. I'd clearly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠possessed a different body in a different world, yet my mind was unnaturally cold. Fear and confusion should have been the normal response, but everything was flowing as if someone had pre-configured me to accept this situation.

...First, I need to wash. I can't think about anything while smelling this.

I headed for the bath. The moment I sank into the hot water, the stench slowly drained away. The water clouded to a blackish murk, as if something old were being washed off.

I stepped out of the tub and changed into clean clothes. Only then did the man in the mirror become the perfect beauty described in the novel. The smell was gone, too.

Alright. Now, think.

I don't care who the heroine ends up with.

There's only one thing that matters.

I am going to survive. No matter what.

I headed straight down the corridor toward my father's — Count Wienheim's — study.

On the way, I caught two servants walking side by side, murmuring to each other.

"I hear magical beasts have been showing up along the border lately. Something's not right. Even the capital's in an uproar over it."

"What's that got to do with us? Just nobles fighting over their rice bowls, I bet."

I didn't slow my pace. Magical beasts on the border? Had that even been mentioned early in the original? My memory was hazy, but the core of the main story was the romance between the Crown Prince and the heroine. Border problems were just background flavor, I figured.

But the closer I got to the study, the more a different kind of unease raised its head.

This mansion is dangerous.

The servants, the retainers, my father — these were all people who had known Adrian Wienheim since he was a child. A different way of speaking. Memories that didn't line up. Tiny habits too small to brush off. The longer I stayed in this house, the more suspicion would pile up that the young master wasn't himself.

I needed to get out of here. Fast. Into a new environment. Among people who didn't know me.

I opened the door and stepped inside. The Count, buried in a pile of documents, looked up with his brow deeply furrowed.

"What kind of mess are you here to make this time. Don't tell me you're still planning to chase after Baron Erdin's girl? As if getting on His Highness the Crown Prince's bad side wasn't enough — are you trying to snap this family's neck while you're at it?!"

Count Wienheim. Gruff and strict on the surface, but a man who loved his only son more than anyone. In the original, he was also the pitiful father who ended up climbing the guillotine alongside his son, cleaning up the messes that boy had made.

The thought of that ending sent a chill through my chest. This man dies because of me.

I bowed my head respectfully.

"No, Father. As of today, I have set aside all feelings I held for Lady Ceria."

"...What?"

The Count's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"You're not trying to pull one over on me with another pretty speech, are you? Last time you said you'd given up, you were the one who laid out a flower bed in front of Lady Ceria's carriage."

"This time I mean it."

"You mean it. Then prove it. After the way you've carried on for ten years, who's going to believe a single sentence out of your mouth?"

"...Father. I understand now. Even if I set my sights on someone His Highness the Crown Prince has taken an interest in, there is nothing in it for me. I will not win Lady Ceria's heart, and I will only put the family in danger. I simply want to live the rest of my life quietly, for the peace of this house."

The Count stared at me for a long time. I didn't look away from those distrustful eyes.

At last, he muttered under his breath.

"...Your eyes are different. That's a look I've never seen in them in your entire life."

He said it gruffly, but the tightness in his brow was slowly easing.

I didn't let the opening slip.

"Which is why I wanted to ask — I would like you to find me a position. Something that will help me settle my mind completely."

"A position. I'm sick of watching that magical talent of yours rot away setting off fireworks in front of some girl. Want me to put you in as a court mage? Or should I stick you in a research post at the Central Magic Tower?"

Both were tempting offers. But a court mage would mean seeing the Crown Prince every day, and a Magic Tower researcher had far too many points of contact with noble high society. No matter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where I went, I'd still overlap with the original plot's path.

"I am grateful, but no. I will take a post as a practical magic professor at the Imperial Academy."

"...An Academy professor? You?"

A fair reaction. The original Adrian had tremendous magical talent, but the only thing he'd ever used it for was setting off Fireworks Magic in front of the heroine.

Then the Count's face hardened in an instant.

"Wait. You can't possibly not know that Lady Ceria and His Highness the Crown Prince are entering the Academy as first-years this year. Don't tell me you're crawling in there to cause another scene!"

Sharp as ever, the old man. I smiled easily and answered.

"You have misunderstood, Father. It is precisely because those two will be there that the Academy is the safest place to hide."

"What kind of sophistry is that."

"Look at the situation as it stands. What happens if I remain in the capital? Even if I say I have given up on Lady Ceria, people will whisper every time we cross paths in high society. And those rumors will reach His Highness's ears."

"...That's true enough."

"And if I seclude myself in the territory? That comes with its own suspicion — that I am plotting something behind the scenes. They say the man who suddenly goes quiet is the most dangerous of all."

"..."

"There is a saying, is there not — if you want to hide a tree, hide it in a forest. Better to be somewhere they can see me than hide and invite suspicion. Just... in a position they will never take an interest in."

The Count tilted his head for the first time.

"If I am working at the Academy as a practical magic professor that nobody even glances at? Anyone looking would see a man who has completely given up and found another path. Visible, but harmless. The rumors will die on their own, and His Highness's guard will come down."

I set the lecture plan I'd prepared in advance on the desk.

"This is the course I will be taking."

"...Isn't that a course only commoner students take? I heard it's for commoners aiming to join the Frontier Knight Order."

"That is correct. A class where you roll in the mud and get covered in magical beast blood. No noble would enroll out of sheer pride. There is no chance Lady Erdin or His Highness the Crown Prince would sit in a commoner's career-climbing course."

Romance fantasy protagonists are too busy falling in love, misunderstanding each other, and playing politics.

Ah, of course I swallowed that line. I dressed it up in a more plausible version instead.

"Their stage is the grand lecture halls of the main building and the social party circuit. My classroom is the Old Building Basement Training Ground. Even inside the same Academy, our paths physically cannot overlap. If I am teaching commoners in the most out-of-the-way training ground on campus, I will never so much as enter their field of vision."

The Count stroked his beard and sank into thought for a long while. He looked like he was wavering.

"Father. I know how much of a burden I have been to this family. I will set that burden down now. So that you never have to clean up after me again."

"Hrm... Come to think of it, I believe I heard the old professor who'd been teaching that course for years suddenly retired not long ago. They've been tearing their hair out trying to find a replacement."

"Is that so? If the post is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vacant, all the better for me."

The predecessor who'd retired so abruptly. I didn't even think to ask why the seat had opened at this particular moment. Looking back now, that was my first mistake.

The Count folded his arms, let the silence hang, then gave a heavy nod.

"Fine. I'll write a letter of recommendation to the Headmistress in the family's name at once. But you remember this. You go there and make a fool of yourself again, I'll snap your legs myself and drag you back. If you're going to do it, do it properly — go make the Wienheim name feared."

One month later. Imperial Academy, the Headmistress's office.

I went to complete the paperwork. The Vice Headmaster, reviewing the documents, couldn't hide his delight.

"You've come at just the right time, Young Master. That course has had no applicants for years — it was on the verge of being cancelled. Even among the commoner students it's fallen out of favor lately. They hear the name and drop it."

"So I will be able to teach in peace."

"Yes, most likely."

The Vice Headmaster smiled faintly. But behind that smile, something flickered — as if he'd been about to add more and then thought better of it.

"Ah, but if perhaps... no, nothing's been confirmed yet. If an official notice comes down later, I'll inform you then."

"Pardon?"

"It's nothing, Professor. Just sign the papers, please."

I let it pass without much thought and finished signing. As expected, the Academy leadership took one look at House Wienheim's recommendation and my overwhelming magical aptitude and handed me a free pass. And the classroom I'd been assigned was a mold-stinking basement in the old building, as far from the main hall as you could get.

Perfect.

I would never cross paths with the original protagonists for the rest of my life.

Humming under my breath, I unfolded the enrollment roster the teaching assistant had brought me for this semester's Practical Magic Applications for Great Magical Beasts in the Frontier Region. It would just be a handful of commoner students aiming for the Frontier Knight Order, anyway.

And then.

"...Huh?"

The coffee cup slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor.

Ceria. The Crown Prince. And after them, House Eisengart of the Grand Duke of the North, House Bernstein of the Marquis. Every last named character who'd been fighting over the heroine in the original was lined up on my student roster without a single one missing.

I grabbed the papers and ran straight to the department office.

"Excuse me — is it possible, even now, to transfer this course to another professor or adjust the student roster?"

The clerk flipped through documents and answered without interest.

"Impossible, Professor. The semester has already begun, and starting this term the criteria for confirming the roster are far stricter than before. It's a directive from above."

"A directive from above?"

"I don't know the details myself. In any case, please proceed as scheduled."

I left the office, drained.

The sound of the door closing behind me rang out unnaturally loud. Whatever the Vice Headmaster had swallowed earlier now struck the back of my head as a grim premonition.

There was nowhere left to run.

The blind spot of a romance fantasy I'd so confidently thrown myself into already had the romance fantasy's protagonists sitting in it as my students, waiting for me.

My quiet life was already on the verge of shattering into pieces — and the first class hadn't even begun.