You Bastard, You're the Protagonist
You bastard, you're the protagonist, huh? Waist-length raven-black hair and blood-red eyes. Even with such a stunning beauty right in front of me—one that could make anyone's head spin—my mood wasn't exactly relaxed. It wasn't because she was the eldest daughter of a grand duke's family, or because I suspected she was one of this world's key players. Nor was it because she was so tight-lipped that conversation barely flowed.
Just...
Where the hell do I even put my eyes?
It was her outfit, making it impossible to tell if she was the Northern Duchess or some Northern firecracker. As a guy, sure, I could appreciate the eye candy and cheer "Oh yeah!" at the sight. But this level of exposure went way beyond acceptable limits—it was hard to keep my wits about me. And that mole right there... No, focus.
"Um, Duchess Bronheim."
"What is it?"
"If I may be so bold, could I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
I couldn't hold back my curiosity and asked permission to speak. She granted it with the dignified poise befitting a grand duchess. Her speech was so stiff, though. It really felt like a romance-fantasy northern duke had leaped straight out of the pages into reality.
"I've heard the northern region is blanketed in snow-capped mountains. Did you travel all the way here dressed like that? It must have been freezing."
"Not particularly. Northern warriors have a tradition of dressing lightly in the cold—it's a symbol of our resilience."
"I see..."
There were a dozen points I wanted to poke at, but I held my tongue. Fine, whatever. Even in my past life, Russia had folks breaking ice for shaved ice swims naked. In a way, it was consistent cultural stuff for cold-climate people. Twenty years in this world, and I'm still the one who can't adapt? Pathetic.
"By the way, this is surprising. To think the person I randomly ran into on the way to the academy was the top enrollee in spirit arts. I just recalled your name after mulling it over."
"Ehehe..."
Just when I braced for another awkward silence, the duchess unexpectedly spoke first. Tiabel, basking in that boundless grace, grinned like a total fool—no humility in sight. Yeah, that's my girl.
"You were a special admission, right?"
"Yes! The academy kindly took notice of me, luckily enough."
"Luck alone doesn't land you the top spot at Teleos Academy. Especially not as a special admit."
Turns out she's the type who gives praise well—not over the top, but quietly respecting the effort Tiabel put in. It'd been a while since I'd seen her light up so purely.
"I heard you're the Roze Tail Duchess's bodyguard. So you're enrolling in the knight class too?"
"That's right. As you can see."
Her question turned to me, and I gestured to the sword at my hip. The way she said you too suggested she was knight class herself. I'd sensed that unusual fighting spirit from her the moment we met.
"Then you're the only male among this year's knight class freshmen."
"...Pardon?"
Her casual bombshell made my brain freeze. The only male...? What? Meaning I'm the token guy in knight class? Oh shit.
Squeeze.
"...Miss?"
Still dazed and blinking in shock, Tiabel suddenly grabbed my arm with surprising force. Her eyebrows arched like she was pissed. Had something soured her mood?
"Aren, remember this. Women are all wolves."
"......"
She whispered her heartfelt advice in my ear. It was so absurd I couldn't help but chuckle.
＊
We arrived at the academy about two hours later. If I'd carried Tiabel on my back, we might've made it by tomorrow.
"What? You're enrolling this year too?!"
"You too! Who knew we'd all meet here!"
"Man, it's been forever. You good?"
"Don't even ask. Mom went ballistic—said she'd kick me out if I didn't get in."
We were pretty late to the party; the entrance was already swarming. Most seemed to be nobles who knew each other, joyfully reuniting everywhere. As I scanned the excited freshmen, a husky voice cut through.
"I'll head in first. Hope we cross paths again."
"Yes. See you at the academy, Duchess Bronheim."
"Thanks for everything."
She bid us a curt farewell and strode inside. With some time to kill, we decided to poke around. No wonder it was the empire's top school—the opulent buildings and vast grounds evoked an academy city. Even the mountain where we'd nearly gotten stranded earlier was academy property, apparently. A spirit king passing by was one thing, but why the hell were there monsters there? Typical romance-fantasy worldbuilding—sloppy as ever.
"It's huge. Gotta watch out so we don't get lost."
Tiabel muttered with a hint of worry at the campus scale that dwarfed any university.
And she had good reason. Because...
"That's 'cause you're the worst with directions, Miss."
She was the most hopelessly lost person I'd ever met. The reason she'd stumbled into the brothel district when we first met? Couldn't find her way home. And she'd even cried her eyes out at ten years old because she couldn't navigate her own mansion after a decade there.
"I-I'm not directionally challenged! I can follow a map just fine!"
"Needing a map at your own academy kinda proves you are, though?"
"Ugh!"
She swung at me in frustration, but I dodged easily. As we bickered, a woman guarding the entrance approached.
"You there. Freshmen, head to the auditorium. Ceremony's starting soon."
She pointed between the massive building to our right and the watch on her wrist. Snapping to, I realized the crowd had vanished while we gawked. We'd burned more time than expected.
"Let's go, Aren."
"Right."
We gave her a quick nod of thanks and hurried to the auditorium.
"Spirit arts students, this way!"
"Magic class, line up here!"
"Knight class over here! Hurry up!"
Inside, leaders at each line waved frantically, guiding their groups. The knight class prof screamed "knight instructor" from her voice and build alone. Her tone was drill-sergeant sharp, and she had to be pushing 190cm—bulging muscles like her clothes might burst. She evoked those gag manga tropes: a dude drawn as a woman.
"Aren, looks like I'm the other way. Catch you later!"
"Yeah, later."
Left for spirits, center for magic, right for knights. Tiabel and I split naturally. Scanning for an empty spot...
"Looking for a seat? This one's free!"
A unfamiliar voice chimed in. Glancing left-down at an angle, a guy from the adjacent magic line grinned and pointed to the spot right for me in knights.
"Oh, thanks."
"No biggie."
His beaming smile at a stranger screamed social butterfly. I thanked him and sat; he struck up chat first.
"What's your name, by the way?"
"Name?"
"Yeah! Fate brought us together—might as well introduce ourselves."
Whoa. His grin was almost too bright. Facing a guy's innocent smile felt a tad awkward, but he seemed decent enough to share a name.
"Aren."
"Aren, huh? Cool name. I'm Theo."
"Theo?"
No surname? Maybe a commoner. Rare case—even among plebs, surname-less was uncommon.
"You a commoner too?"
"Yup! Oh, are you, Aren? I didn't ask your family name 'cause I figured it might be tricky."
So that's why. Nice guy, considerate of a stranger's situation.
"You don't exactly scream noble anyway."
"Nah, you're plenty refined. I figured you for some noble young master."
"Young master."
I wryly smiled. This was spaceship-level flattery, not airplane. Hearing "young master" from another guy felt weird. Like past-life girls hyping each other's looks, maybe.
"Knight class, right?"
"Yep."
"Awesome! A guy in knights."
"Th-thanks."
I should be thrilled at the praise, but... what was this vibe? His speech echoed Tiabel's, but guy-fied—it clashed hard. That peppy tone, the constant gestures. Good dude, but oddly off-putting.
"So you're the one the prof mentioned—the only other commoner besides her."
"Only? Meaning just you and me?"
"Yeah."
I tilted my head at his casual nod. Huh, that's fishy. I only got in thanks to Tiabel's halo—exception. So he's basically the sole commoner admit. In a true academy romance-fantasy, they wouldn't hand special treatment to some nobody.
"Hey, Theo."
"Yeah? What's up, Aren?"
Don't tilt your head with those innocent eyes. My brain can't handle it, even if this world can.
"How'd you get into the academy? No surname suggests a rough background like mine."
"Uh, y-yeah...?"
"Not judging—just curious. Magic class, right? Self-taught or something?"
Teleos boasted open to all based on merit. A talented mage fit fine. But how'd a no-surname commoner get that talented? Especially when women dominated magic here.
And his personality feels familiar somehow.
This overwhelming friendliness—nosiness?—could befriend anyone instantly. Plus, pretty face. Hmm... probe time.
"Really? Sorry. I just figured you had some hidden power worthy of admission, or..."
"...Urk?!"
He clutched his chest dramatically. Suspicion level one.
"Or maybe a legendary mentor."
"...Ack!"
Second probe, and he winced away with a pained groan. Suspicion confirmed.
"...Whatever, if it's not you, it's not."
"Y-yeah, that's right...! Geez, Aren."
He bought my feigned acceptance, sighing in relief. But in my head:
You bastard, you're the protagonist.