Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Just a Guy Who Wants to Live Normally (1)
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I was an orphan from birth, and I never even bought myself a single bowl of jjajangmyeon with my own money.
Scrounging for coins under playground slides was my daily routine, and every penny I scraped together went straight into savings.
That's how I'd lived for a solid twenty-five years.
I could look up at the sky without a shred of shame.
After leaving the orphanage, there wasn't a job I hadn't tried.
Part-time gigs were a given—I'd loaded and unloaded cargo, shot silicone sealant, even hauled around beehives...
Living that rough life, I figured I'd seen it all.
But "waking up possessed" was a curveball I never saw coming.
'Fuck.'
Usually, possession tropes hit at a point where you can still salvage things.
Like into a newborn who can't even speak, or before shit hits the fan.
Not me, though.
I got dropped in right after the academy slapped down a suspension.
First place I opened my eyes? The disciplinary committee room. So yeah, any shot at escaping this sorry fate was long gone.
Anyway, back to cold, hard reality.
"Pack up all your personal belongings and get out."
"...All of them?"
"Every last one."
The dorm supervisor snapped back curtly, shooting me a venomous glare.
Her already toad-like face turned downright vicious, leaving me nowhere to look.
Staring her down from three paces away? My stomach churned.
"A new student moves in tomorrow. We need the room cleaned today, so have everything out by lunchtime."
She spat it out like a prickly pear and stormed off.
Her cellulite-riddled calves jiggled impressively as she went.
'Well then...'
Finally alone in the eerily silent dorm room.
I stood there dumbly, scanning the mess, until my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the bed.
'I'm really inside this asshole now?'
Leonard Percival Blackmere.
An extra villain from the novel Academy Hero's Infinite Regression Method, the latest chapter of which I'd read right before bed.
An extra who showed up way too often, always tempting you to root for his death—a total ragebait prick.
That was now my reality, and it hit harder than anything.
But I couldn't just deny it. Fragments of Leonard's memories had already mingled with my own.
Was I the old me, or the Blackmere brat?
My sense of self still felt mostly intact, but even that wasn't a sure thing.
One fact stood crystal clear, though.
'Doesn't this guy die later?'
I was utterly screwed.
If he were just a standard villain, there might be room for redemption. But in the story, Leonard was unanimously the world's biggest scumbag.
Always picking fights with major characters, throwing around his family's clout like it was his own—a real piece of trash.
And he sucked at everything, too.
Bottom of the barrel in Swordsmanship Department grades.
The kind of character creators love to hate: no talent, zero personality.
The "Blackmere Brat" label wasn't slapped on lightly.
And there wasn't even a washing machine in sight to clean his image.
His antics before suspension had already pissed off half the academy.
Even the hero candidate protagonist despised him.
In an academy story where the protag usually steamrolls everyone, getting on their bad side?
That meant the washing machine was smashed to bits.
Beat down in an early spar, humiliated, then slinking off in disgrace before ultimately getting his head lopped off.
That was my fate now.
And I'd already tanked the "spar loss and humiliation" phase.
'For real.'
I flopped back onto the bed in despair.
The mattress bounced like it didn't want to let me go.
"What now?"
My grumbled soliloquy echoed emptily in the room.
No answer came back.
Bang! Bang! Bang!!
Wait, one did.
"Blackmere! Get out of the room!!"
"Argh, fine! I'm going!"
This godforsaken academy.
In the Human Era, the kingdom had ascended to an eternal empire where the sun never set.
Tech and magic advanced at breakneck speed, society growing richer by the day.
At the forefront of that dazzling progress stood one educational institution.
Kingswell Royal Academy, where even elves tread carefully and dwarves fidget nervously.
'So they say...'
Clutching a heavy box of junk, I glanced around warily.
Drooping wisteria in gloomy purple hues everywhere, overgrown weeds choking the unkempt stairs.
Far from the proud Kingswell Royal Academy dorms—this looked like some backwater swamp.
A sign stood at the path to the dorm building.
Wisteria Dormitory
Kingswell Royal Academy's dorms numbered five.
First, Golden Dormitory for student council elites and top performers.
Then Oak Dormitory and Rose Dormitory for general students, split by gender.
Pine Needle Dormitory for faculty and grad students.
And finally, Wisteria Dormitory for low-income kids and "special management" cases.
That last one was my new nest.
Under the "special management student" label, no less.
Even a stray dog would know that wasn't some VIP treatment.
"Ugh...'
Passing the sign, I faced a soul-crushing sight.
A steep uphill climb that darkened my vision just looking at it.
Short on land? Or budget to level the hill?
Wisteria Dorm sat on higher ground than the other buildings.
Meaning I had to trudge up this breath-stealing slope.
What choice did I have?
Hate sleeping rough? Climb on your own two feet.
I set off up the brutal stairs.
Each step loomed impossibly high, stretching endlessly.
"Huff... huff..."
By the hundredth step in my head, I was gasping.
"Get some exercise, you bastard...!"
Leonard, Swordsmanship Department and all, gassing out this bad?
A truly cursed body.
No surprise—no talent, no effort, that's the result.
Explains getting pummeled by the hero from the jump.
"Hoo... fucking hell."
After an eternity of struggle, I reached the dorm.
"Urgh."
Dragging my quivering legs, I staggered inside.
The interior vaguely matched Leonard's memories of Golden Dormitory.
But Golden was lavish as its name implied—no hellish stairs either.
Sizzle!
A first-floor hallway light sparked and flickered.
Cobwebs draped lazily below it, punctuated by distant squeaking rats.
"Ghosts next."
Felt like exploring an abandoned ruin.
The novel mentioned Wisteria unfavorably in passing, but not this bad.
'No one's here?'
Hunting my room number on the rusty key, I scanned the creepy hall.
Even with "special management," it was meant for low-income or special-admission students.
But that purpose had faded.
Kingdom's top academy or not, poor commoners without connections had no reason to pay steep tuition.
They thrived fine without it.
Top scholars were usually well-fed nobles anyway—poor admits rarely snagged scholarships.
So Wisteria sat abandoned, good intentions wasted. Like my life.
'Still, not totally empty, right?'
They wouldn't let a whole dorm rot unused—that'd be wasteful for the academy.
Admissions are cutthroat everywhere.
Nobles dominate, but parents desperate to boost their kids' prospects are legion.
Still folks filing apps like hunting Kim from Seoul Station—that's why Wisteria clings on.
Anyway.
"Room 102, 102..."
My spot was at the dim hall's dead end.
Didn't matter to my near-collapse state.
I shoved the door open, dumped my stuff, and surveyed: wardrobe, bed, desk, drawers...
"Cleaner inside than I thought."
Leonar's lingering ego rebelled with sleazy shame, but...
'Cut it.'
I crushed it flat.
Who was freaking out most here?
'Some of us are one bad day from the street.'
Checked the bathroom—water pressure solid, cheap rent.
A-grade bachelor pad. Can't beat it.
I flung myself onto the musty bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought.
'What to do now.'
Hectic day.
Sudden novel possession into a doomed villain, no less.
Busted before I could act, then booted from my dorm.
Now, finally, time to think.
'Way back? No clue.'
Lying about no regrets for my old world would be bullshit.
Being an orphan helped, at least.
I closed my eyes slowly. Random thoughts swirled.
"Just don't die."
Obviously—if this wasn't a dream, priority one was survival.
And for a story villain? One path: wash clean the past sins. Redemption.
Washing this arrogant, pigheaded skull? Daunting. Sigh escaped.
Classic mid-to-late-game neck-chop villain redemption.
Gotta be a way.
Bang! Bang!
Lost in thought, the door suddenly rattled.
- Leonard!
A shrill voice pierced my ears.
- You in there? Leonard! Open up! Now!
I sighed, heading to the door.
Click—
"Leonard Percival Blackmere! I heard! What the hell did you do this time...!"
First in view: hyacinth-purple hair and eyes.
Delicate features sharpened into a fresh-faced scowl.
A name floated up from Leonard's memories.
"Layla."
Layla Cecil Winthrop.
Magic Department runner-up enrollee, pampered daughter of the Winthrop Border Earl, and... fiancée to Leonard Percival Blackmere.
In the original story, a shaky bond soon to shatter.
Our eyes met. I looked at her wearily.
She flinched, then averted her gaze cautiously.
"L-Leonard. You..."
"Hm?"
"...You okay?"
What's with her?