I'm Not the Heroine
“I like you. Please accept this ring.”
“This is… the Oath Ring you give to the heroine?”
Something had gone horribly wrong.
It wasn’t any of the other heroines. The one receiving this confession was me—the guy who used to be a man.
Where the hell did it all start to fall apart?
Maybe it was when I first possessed this game and showed up in front of the protagonist right as he was getting brutally bullied by the system and about to die to a monster. I wiped out every enemy in sight and coolly declared, “So you’re the protagonist? Leave everything to me from now on.”
Or was it during that intense battle when I caught him staring fixedly at my chest? I snapped, “What are you looking at so hard? What’s so great about these lumps of fat anyway?”
Perhaps it was when the other heroines got jealous of how close I was getting to the protagonist. I’d told them with a straight face, “I’m not the heroine. If anything, I want to help you with your romance.”
I’d mediated their catfights, adjusted the favorability ratings of every side character so the protagonist could grow without friction, and even gave him lap pillows whenever his enhancement attempts spectacularly failed or he crawled back from a dungeon half-dead.
“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? Get some rest.”
“Huh? You want to know how to become like me?”
“Well, you endure like a real man… Wait, aren’t I supposed to be a woman? Ahem! There’s… a technique for that.”
I even played mental health counselor for the poor guy when he got too depressed.
And every time I wore that high-leg leotard, casually bent over, or absentmindedly spread my legs like any guy would, the protagonist would turn beet-red and yell at me to act more ladylike. I’d just tilt my head innocently and say, “What? I have no idea what part of me looks lewd.”
Even when we had to squeeze through a narrow cave and his body pressed right against my chest, I’d blush furiously while muttering, “Don’t get any weird ideas. I’m absolutely not a heroine or anything like that.”
But I still couldn’t pinpoint exactly where things had gone off the rails.
“Protecting your friends is the obvious thing to do. So don’t you dare die first.”
“You son of a bitch. I told you not to die first! If you’re gone, who the hell am I supposed to mess around with?”
“I don’t care if you have to live as a half-cripple for the rest of your life… Just come back. Please…”
Ah.
So that was the problem.
“Huh…? Me?! I’m not the heroine! Go confess to someone else!!”
“Get over here!!”
…I’m telling you, I’m really not the heroine.