The Calamity Dragon Girl's Silent Effort
Nikita Cynthia was the final boss who made her exit in Act 3. Consequently, to ensure a dramatic departure, she was woven deeply into Acts 1, 2, and 3 alike. This made Nikita one of the most prominent characters in the entire game.
In the early stages of the game, where the narrative was at its most concentrated, players were led into a shocking, tragic storyline by the complacent assumption that she was a heroine. Thanks to the developers' relentless obsession with plunging players into utter despair, Nikita's characterization was maximized to its absolute limit in the beginning.
But who was I? A hardcore veteran who had cleared the Flame Butterfly Chapter twenty-nine times. If I factored in the runs where I deliberately sought out the bad endings just out of curiosity, my total playthrough count was far higher.
In other words, I knew everything about Nikita, from the most trivial details to her grandest life achievements. I possessed countless angles from which to praise her. Right now, I was nothing short of a Nikita-praising machine.
"I praise you, Senior Nikita, for personally carrying an injured examinee on your back to the infirmary while serving as an assistant instructor during the entrance exams."
"Ahem, *cough*. That... that was simply my duty as a senior student."
"I praise you, Senior Nikita, for often craving sweets but showing the restraint to eat tofu crackers instead because you were worried about gaining weight."
"Wh-what? No, that's... I just eat tofu crackers because they taste good!"
"I praise you, Senior Nikita, for accidentally falling asleep in the student council room, getting locked inside, and deciding to just stay up and finish all the remaining student council paperwork since you were trapped anyway."
"H-how on earth do you know about that, Junior?!"
"And I also praise you, Senior Nikita, for—"
"Stop!"
Nikita is basically a child at heart. She needs to be showered with praise. Dizzied by my relentless barrage of compliments, Nikita wore a thoroughly dazed expression.
"Why? I'm not finished yet."
"Please... I beg of you, just stop."
She pressed a hand to her forehead, staring at me with a strained look.
"...Junior, knowing this much about me is actually a little creepy."
Did I go too far? Halfway through, I had gotten carried away teasing her, and it had escalated. I readily admitted my mistake.
"It only goes to show how sincerely I respect you, Senior Nikita. Just as I said, you have worked harder than anyone else."
And it was the truth. Nikita was weak to praise and strong against criticism, but putting all of that aside, her most defining trait was that she was a hard worker. This was also the reason why my memories of her were so uniquely bittersweet.
Nikita is tragically devoid of talent.
The Calamity Dragon Girl, Nikita Cynthia. Despite being born into the House of Count Cynthia, an imperial family renowned for its magical prestige, she possessed absolutely no magical talent. The mana within her body was practically zero. Perhaps because of this, she had been poorly regarded by her family since childhood.
In contrast, her older brother, Nia Cynthia, was blessed with outstanding magical talent. Because of this, Nikita had lived her entire life in his shadow, constantly compared to him from the moment she was born.
Her family expected nothing from her. They merely viewed her as a tool for a political marriage, leveraging her natural beauty. Not once did they listen to her own desires.
Anyone else might have given up in despair. In fact, Nikita had despaired. But she didn't stop there. If she lacked talent in one area, she would simply have to find it in another. She poured endless effort into discovering a path where she could excel. Yet, she was met with countless disappointments along the way.
Nikita Cynthia was ordinary. She possessed zero magical talent, lacked an exceptionally brilliant mind, and her naturally petite frame was a hindrance even in physical combat. She had nothing going for her. She was just a pretty doll. The prestigious background of a Count's family and the reputation of a legendary magic house were nothing but a suffocating weight crushing her ordinary self.
Even so, Nikita never gave up. She accepted her lack of talent. And so, she adjusted her course. If she had no talent, she would cultivate it from scratch. She would plant the seeds of talent in barren soil.
Magic was an impossibility without innate mana. Thus, she cast it aside and poured all her effort into academics and swordsmanship. No matter what her family said, she did what she could. That was precisely why she had grown so resilient against criticism.
Furthermore, because she worked harder than anyone else, she developed a fierce competitive streak to prevent her efforts from being invalidated. She strove relentlessly. Through sheer effort alone, she rose to the position of Vice President at Jerion Academy—a place where geniuses and prodigies gathered—and desperately clung to the top of the academic rankings.
Her naturally weak body suffered; she bled from her nose during late-night study sessions, and her hands blistered and tore every time she swung her sword, leaving her in agonizing muscle pain. Yet, despite the grueling daily grind, she never spared herself.
Perhaps because her life was so demanding, she was exceptionally vulnerable to praise. Her family treated her like a pretty doll, while the academy assumed her high grades were merely the result of her family's influence. Yet, she continued her quiet, noble struggle. Even if no one recognized it, she kept pushing forward.
I actually quite liked Nikita for that. That was why I wanted to tell her.
"Senior Nikita, you are someone who deserves to be respected and praised."
The person she was today was a masterpiece she had built entirely with her own hands, refusing to yield to her fate.
Nikita's lips parted slightly. She stared at me blankly. Seeing her flushed ears, it seemed my heartfelt praise had truly reached her.
"...Thank you."
Nikita murmured her gratitude. Instead of the aloof, haughty mask she had worn when we first met, a soft, genuine smile graced her lips.
"I've never received this many compliments in my entire life. Junior, I will make sure to live a life worthy of your praise and respect."
A proud smile played on her lips. She was a resilient person, capable of finding the strength to live on simply because someone had finally acknowledged her hard work.
"You said you wanted to join the student council, right? With the third-years graduating, a few administrative assistant positions have opened up. Originally, we planned to recruit from the incoming first-years, but..."
"I will apply. I'll work with all my heart and soul, so please, just give me the chance."
"Ahem. Well, we do need someone diligent. I'll review your application favorably."
Somehow, I had successfully wedged my foot in the student council's door.
"Well, I have some business with the martial arts department. Junior, I'll see you around."
With those words, Nikita walked past me and crossed the bridge. I watched her retreating figure in silence.
Nikita Cynthia was a true striver. I sincerely hoped that, in the end, her efforts would not prove to be in vain.
Perhaps that was why so many thoughts swirled in my mind as I watched her walk away—especially since I was the one who had to steer this world toward its official canon. After all, Nikita Cynthia was the Calamity Dragon Girl, the Act 3 boss who had to be defeated for the scenario to progress.
After a series of twists and turns, the day had finally come to an end. I had earned Isabel's resentment and Nikita's favor.
Is it really okay for me to live such an extreme life?
I had acted on impulse because of the circumstances, but there was no denying that the road ahead would be treacherous. Above all, while Nikita and Lucas had been bitter rivals, they had developed a strange, grudging affection for each other. She wouldn't have taken Lucas's death lightly. If she ever found out that I had disparaged him, her favorability toward me might plummet.
Fortunately, Nikita is rather slow to catch on to academy gossip.
Since she spent every waking hour working for the student council, studying, and training with her sword, her social circle was quite narrow. Consequently, she was less informed about academy news than most. Unless it was something that happened among the third-years, it would take some time for rumors of a second-year commotion to reach her ears.
Not to mention, now that she knew the Cynthia family had aligned themselves with the 1st Prince, her attention would be entirely consumed by that political headache. I needed to build up as much favorability as possible before then.
Act 3, Chapter 1 has already begun.
The very fact that Nikita's brother, Nia Cynthia, had sided with the 1st Prince meant the gears were already in motion. There were countless things I had to prepare for in Lucas's stead.
Hang in there, me.
Offering myself a bit of silent encouragement, I came to a sudden halt. Where was I standing right now? Before me stood the male dormitory of Jerion Academy. However, the word "dormitory" felt entirely inadequate for the structure looming in front of me. It was an ultra-luxurious building that looked far more like a five-star hotel.
Jerion Academy was a prestigious institution. Because it was filled with the children of high nobility, their families poured massive sponsorships into the school, essentially bribing them to take good care of their sons and daughters. Flooded with excess funding, the academy had spared no expense on the dormitories.
"Young Master Hanon Airey, we have been expecting you. I am Marie Emaris."
The moment I stepped through the entrance, an attendant bowed deeply to greet me. A middle-aged woman wearing a long black skirt and a crisp white apron. She was the head maid of the Jerion Academy dormitory, Marie Emaris.
"Your luggage has already been moved to your assigned room."
"Thank you."
"Young Master Airey, we are merely servants. There is no need to speak so formally to us."
As a modern Korean, it wasn't easy to speak casually to someone clearly older than me. But I supposed I would have to adapt.
"Understood. I'll be in your care for the next two years, Head Maid."
"Yes, we shall do our utmost to assist you so that you may focus entirely on your studies."
With that, she immediately began to guide me. As we walked, I found myself marveling at the sheer scale of the place.
This puts five-star hotels to shame.
Why on earth did a school dormitory have a swimming pool, a hot spring, and a massage parlor? Though the question crossed my mind, I kept it to myself. I had seen it all in the game anyway, so there was nothing truly surprising.
Wait, wasn't there a terrifying water ghost event here?
Instead, I mentally reviewed all the events that took place within the dormitory. I need to grab every single reward I can get.
I wasn't Lucas. Naturally, I didn't possess his unique trait, the Flame of Fighting Spirit.
The Flame of Fighting Spirit is practically essential to guide this game toward the true ending, but...
There was no point in crying over what I didn't have. I had to find another way to compensate for its absence.
This is the biggest hurdle.
I did have a potential solution in mind. The problem was that the only person who could make it work was currently enrolled in a different academy.
If I want to transfer them here...
I would have to figure out a way to make that happen. One step at a time. If all else failed, there was always the event: *The Headmaster's Secret Friend Who Will Grant Any Favor Once!*
"This is your room, Young Master Airey."
Room 316. Looking at the door, I paused to think.
A second-year room, Room 316...
Perhaps because the Flame Butterfly Chapter was packed with minor, nameless characters, I couldn't immediately recall who occupied this room. As I was trying to remember, Head Maid Marie knocked on the door.
"Young Master Card, are you inside?"
Card. I blinked as the name registered.
Ah.
The moment the realization struck, the door creaked open, revealing a shock of short, messy blonde hair. A tanned chest was proudly exposed through a half-buttoned shirt, accompanied by a face that practically screamed "bad attitude."
Well, so much for a quiet dormitory life.
"Marie, I told you, if you wanted to see me, you should've come alone."
The man offered a sly, greasy smirk, shamelessly flirting even with the middle-aged Marie. This was Card Belikman—the blonde playboy character destined to hit on the main heroines, only to get thoroughly thrashed by the protagonist.