The First Conversation
The air in the Black Library felt strangely heavy. Darkness pooled between the bookshelves, the scent of old parchment lingered, and the magic lamps cast a flickering purple glow. Yet more vivid than any of it were the gazes fixed upon me from the people standing in the room.
Edan Gray. The original protagonist was looking straight at me. Behind him stood the open door; behind me, the desk and wall. To my left, Noel Ignis sat with her chin propped on her hand, as though she had discovered an amusing spectacle. To my right, Aria carefully clutched my sleeve. Leah and Ciela stood by the doorway.
Anyone seeing this scene for the first time might have mistaken it for an interrogation. In truth, it was not far from one.
“Who exactly are you?”
Edan’s question was quiet, yet strangely sharp. He had neither drawn his sword nor prepared any magic. Still, his gaze carried an unmistakable will not to yield.
In the original story, Edan Gray had always been like this. Whether facing nobles or royalty, he would press questions he believed were right until the very end. That uprightness had drawn Leah’s interest, earned Aria’s trust, and won Ciela’s recognition as a rival.
And now those questions were aimed at me.
I stayed silent for a moment, choosing my words carefully. What could I possibly say? I knew the flow of the original story. I knew he was the true protagonist. I knew I had saved the people he was meant to save and perhaps stolen the trust meant for him. I could never voice any of that. It would not be an explanation—it would be a bomb.
Leah spoke first.
“Edan Gray. Questions have an order.”
Edan lowered his head. “I apologize if I was rude, Your Highness. However, the incident at the Central Sealed Area concerns the entire academy. I have been following traces since the Rose Garden incident as well.”
“Who granted you the authority to investigate?”
“No one.”
Leah’s eyes grew cold, but Edan did not retreat.
“Still, I was taught that if someone might be hurt, I must act.”
Words worthy of the original protagonist. So textbook they almost felt tiresome. Goodwill. A sense of justice. Responsibility. In the original story, these were the very traits meant to win readers over. Even I, as a reader, had never disliked Edan. He had been a good protagonist—at least within the tale I once read.
But everything was different now. I stood before him, and I had twisted the place that should have been his.
Ciela folded her arms. “Pretty words.”
Edan’s gaze shifted to her. “Lady Bayern.”
“You know my name?”
“Everyone in the Knight Department does.”
“Then you should also know this: barging into someone else’s battlefield without permission is sometimes considered rude.”
“I acknowledge that.”
Edan bowed his head without resistance. Ciela’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
It had been the same in the original. Edan never clashed by inflating his pride. When wrong, he admitted it; when he had no reason to yield, he stood firm. That made him far more troublesome. Rude opponents were easy to drive away. Malicious ones were easy to cut down. But Edan was different. He spoke what was right—and people who spoke rightly were never convenient.
Aria spoke softly. “Lord Edan.”
When she called his name, Edan’s gaze wavered for the briefest instant.
According to the original, Aria and Edan should have grown closer through the Rose Garden incident. He would have saved her as she bled, and she would have placed her trust in his goodwill for the first time. That scene had carried significant emotional weight in the early chapters.
Now, however, the two were little more than strangers. To Edan, this distance must have felt alien.
And standing squarely in the middle of that unfamiliar distance was me.
Aria kept hold of my sleeve as she continued. “Lord Kyle saved me. More than once.”
“I know.”
Edan’s voice remained calm. “That is precisely why I wish to ask. How any of it was possible.”
A precise question. I drew a breath. I could no longer hide everything, yet I could not reveal the whole truth either. Especially not to Edan—telling him he was the original protagonist and that I had stolen his events would be far too dangerous. It might shatter him, or worse, create the very rift the Black Moon desired.
“I had premonitions regarding several incidents.”
Edan’s eyes narrowed. “Premonitions?”
“Too inaccurate to call prophecies, and too difficult to explain to call memories.”
Noel cut in from the side. “For convenience, let’s just call them future memories.”
“Senior.”
“What? It’s not wrong.”
Edan turned to her. “Did you already know, Senior Ignis?”
“I’ve only just become certain.”
“Then does Her Highness know as well?”
Leah answered. “Only in part.”
Edan looked back at me. “In those future memories, what role do I play?”
The question struck true. The library’s air seemed to solidify. Aria’s grip tightened. Ciela watched me in silence while Leah waited for my reply. Noel looked entertained, though her eyes were serious.
I had no way to dodge it.
“An important role.”
“‘Important’ is far too vague.”
“The central figure who resolves the various incidents that will occur within the academy.”
Edan fell silent. He seemed to grasp the weight behind those words.
“Yet right now, it is you, my lord, who is resolving those incidents.”
“As a result, yes.”
“Does that mean you took my role?”
A direct question. I closed my eyes briefly. This was the kind of question the original Edan would ask—never evasive, never intimidated by rank or status. And now that same question had me by the throat.
“I only tried to survive.”
Edan’s gaze wavered. “To survive?”
“Yes. If I had done nothing, I would have died.”
“Who would have killed you?”
“The flow of the story.”
When I spoke those words, Edan’s expression finally showed confusion.
Noel tapped the desk with her fingers. “To put it simply, Kyle was originally meant to die early on. He moved to stay alive, and in doing so, he ended up clearing the incidents you were supposed to handle first.”
“Noel senior.”
“Hiding it won’t make things better.”
She was right. Edan studied me for a long moment. Doubt, confusion, displeasure, and—strangely—pity crossed his face.
“You didn’t want to die, did you, my lord?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I suppose I have nothing to say.”
It was an unexpected answer. Edan exhaled softly.
“No one is obligated to accept death willingly.”
I looked at him. This was why Edan Gray was the protagonist. Even when he could have felt robbed, he first acknowledged that the other person had simply wanted to live.
But it did not end there.
His gaze hardened once more.
“There is still one thing I must confirm.”
“What is it?”
“Whether you are someone who destroys others’ fates just to survive.”
Ciela’s hand moved to her sword hilt. “Mind your words.”
Edan met her eyes. “I mean no offense. But I must know—whether Lord Kyle truly wishes to save people, or whether he merely uses those around him to stay alive.”
Aria spoke at once. “Lord Kyle is not that kind of person.”
Her voice was quiet yet resolute. “He never used me. If anything, he stopped me when I tried to run away.”
Leah added coldly, “We have already reached our own conclusions on that matter.”
Edan bowed his head. “I have no intention of denying Your Highness’s or the Saintess candidate’s judgment.”
“Then?”
I asked.
Edan looked directly at me.
“I will see for myself.”
The library fell silent.
“Starting next week, partner practical training begins. It will be a large-scale joint exercise involving the Combat Department, Magic Department, Holy Church, and Knight Department.”
Only then did I remember. Partner practical training—the key early event from the original story. Edan was supposed to become temporary partners with Leah, clash with Ciela, and protect Aria. Through those days, he would build genuine bonds with the three heroines.
On the first day, he would be isolated with Leah in the mana zone.
On the second, he would escort Aria and witness the contradictions inside the Holy Church.
On the third, he would cross swords with Ciela and earn her acknowledgment.
That had been the original flow.
But now?
Leah had placed me under imperial protection.
Aria refused to let go of my hand, citing treatment.
Ciela had declared she would oversee my training.
Noel regarded me as both an observation subject and an ally.
There was no chance the original partner practical training would unfold as written.
Edan spoke.
“Lord Kyle. Please be my temporary partner.”
“…What?”
Before I could respond, three voices answered at once.
“Denied.” Leah.
“Absolutely not.” Aria.
“Unnecessary.” Ciela.
Noel buried her face against the desk, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “Wow, this is going to be fun.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead.
The first conversation between protagonist and villain had ended.
And the battle over partner practical training was only just beginning.