At least he doesn't seem remotely caught up in any atmosphere of despair.

So... that's a good thing... right...?

Even after entering my room, Reisir showed no sign of stopping his laughter.

As long as the protagonist of this world remained cheerful, then no matter how hard Author Senna tried, they wouldn't be able to write narration steeped in despair.

This was exactly the outcome I'd been hoping for.

And yet...

Why do I feel so humiliated?

I folded my arms and glared at Reisir with open displeasure.

Only then did he finally make an effort to stop laughing.

Turning away, he rested his forehead against the door and took several deep breaths.

Unfortunately, rather than looking apologetic, he looked so infuriating that I wanted to punch him.

"Finished laughing?"

"Ah... yeah."

"Thanks."

"I really needed that laugh."

I had intended my words to be sarcastic.

Instead, Reisir sincerely thanked me while wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

He truly had a talent for leaving people speechless.

"...First, change into the indoor slippers."

"I absolutely refuse to let anyone track dirt into my room."

People in this world wore outdoor shoes inside as a matter of course.

But to someone with the soul of a Korean...

That was completely unacceptable.

I handed Reisir a pair of slippers, deliberately adding an excuse so he wouldn't find it suspicious.

Then—

"You actually prepared guest slippers in advance?"

"So you were ready to invite me over anytime?!"

Reisir looked genuinely touched after arriving at a completely ridiculous conclusion.

"Don't misunderstand."

"If I'm washing one pair regularly, isn't it only natural to own at least two?"

"...Ah."

"I suppose that's true."

"Stop saying nonsense and sit over there."

"Okay!"

Couldn't he even see the look of disgust on my face?

Still smiling brightly, Reisir slipped into the slippers and obediently sat in the chair I'd pointed at.

I, meanwhile, dragged the chair away from my desk and carried it over to the tea table.

After all...

I'd never expected to have visitors.

The table only had one chair.

Besides, Yor rarely used chairs in the first place.

She only occupied one to reserve the space.

Normally, she simply floated in midair.

Sometimes a chair seemed more inconvenient than useful to her.

...Isn't this table too small?

After setting down three lunchboxes on the tiny tea table Karvaldr had always used alone...

...there wasn't even enough room left for a cup of water.

I doubted I'd ever invite anyone into this room again.

Still...

Yor used the table often.

I should probably replace it with something larger and sturdier before long.

"Karvaldr."

"Enjoy your meal."

"You too, Yor."

"...Eat if you want."

"I don't care."

"Yaong!"

The lunch Reisir had bought consisted of cheese ragù pasta as the main dish, accompanied by several side dishes and dessert.

The container itself was made from disposable polypropylene.

Does that mean Author Senna isn't narrating this scene?

Or are they planning to narrate it... but simply don't intend to mention what material the lunchbox is made from?

...Enough.

If I keep doubting every insignificant object I see, I'm going to become paranoid.

Actually...

Haven't I already reached that point?

What mattered now wasn't whether Author Senna was observing me.

What mattered...

...was whether Reisir himself was being controlled.

To figure that out...

...I had to ask why he'd acted so differently today.

...But no matter how I phrase it, won't it sound strange?

The harder I searched for a natural way to bring it up...

...the more impossible it seemed.

Perhaps because of that...

...my expression gradually stiffened.

"What's wrong?"

"Doesn't it taste good?"

Reisir immediately noticed, his expression turning serious.

Judging by the look on his face...

If I admitted I didn't like it, he'd probably run outside this instant to buy something else.

"No."

"It's delicious."

"So don't worry."

"Really?"

"You're not forcing yourself to eat it just because I bought it, even though it isn't to your taste?"

"Why would I go that far just to spare your feelings?"

"Because you're kind, Karvaldr."

"Stop saying strange things."

"Hurry up and finish eating so you can leave."

"...Do I have to leave immediately after lunch?"

"Then I'd better eat as slowly as possible."

With that, Reisir began moving the fork toward his mouth at the speed of a sloth.

The childish display looked utterly ridiculous.

Yet instead of laughing...

...I found myself complaining.

"When was it..."

"...that you started acting as though you didn't even want to come into my room?"

The words escaped before I could stop them.

It was the inevitable result of spending all this time worrying about the protagonist of someone else's novel acting unlike himself...

...and obsessing over how to bring up the subject.

Only after the words left my mouth did I realize my mistake.

I hurriedly covered my lips.

But there was no taking them back now.

Reisir stared at me in surprise.

Beside us, Yor smacked her own forehead with a little thwap and slowly shook her head, somehow managing to look adorable even while expressing exasperation.

Yet Reisir never looked away from me.

Blink.

Blink.

Those golden eyes opened and closed several times.

A growing sense of crisis washed over me.

Say something.

Anything.

I had no idea what.

I only knew I couldn't remain silent.

"D-Don't misunderstand!"

"It's not like I was... disappointed or anything!"

"Then what was it?"

"I was just... a little uneasy..."

"...No."

"Does saying that only make it sound even stranger?"

"Pfft—!"

At last, Reisir looked away.

Unfortunately...

That brought me no relief whatsoever.

He'd simply turned sideways, bent over...

...and was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

"I-It's because you acted differently than usual!"

"You were always looking for opportunities to get closer to me!"

"You'd wedge yourself in through the tiniest opening if you found one!"

"And then today, when you finally had the perfect excuse to come into my room..."

"...you just left."

"Isn't that strange, no matter how you look at it?"

"So naturally..."

"...it felt..."

"...unfamiliar."

The longer I spoke...

...the more pitiful I sounded.

Embarrassment flooded over me.

At the same time...

...a strange sense of grievance and sadness welled up.

He has no idea what I was afraid of.

Or why I was so anxious.

...And he probably never will.

I knew it couldn't be helped.

Even so...

It felt unbearably heartless.

Unable to continue, I lowered my head and resumed eating.

Across from me, Reisir cautiously straightened up and quietly studied my face.

He looked thoroughly flustered.

"So..."

"...does that mean..."

"...you were worried because I acted differently than usual?"

"Why would that matter?"

"How could something this important not matter?"

"Forget that."

"Just explain why you acted that way."

Completely oblivious to the turmoil inside me...

Reisir smiled with obvious satisfaction.

That irritated me too.

So I vented my frustration by kicking him lightly under the table.

Only then did he clear his throat.

"Ahem."

"Ahem."

Finally suppressing his grin, he answered.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to come into your room."

"I just didn't feel like eating."

"...What do you mean?"

"When I ordered lunch, the others were with me."

"So I ordered three portions, including mine."

"But honestly..."

"I didn't have much of an appetite."

"If you'd invited me in, I wouldn't have wanted to miss the chance to eat together."

"So I would have eaten."

"But if not..."

"...why force myself?"

As he spoke, Reisir awkwardly avoided my eyes.

He didn't look like he was lying.

Rather...

He seemed embarrassed.

Trying very hard to pretend everything was fine simply because he'd grown used to doing exactly that.

Come to think of it...

Reisir really is like the protagonist of a Korean web novel.

He's obsessively considerate whenever it comes to other people's meals.

But when he's depressed and alone...

...he'll either eat carelessly... or skip meals altogether, just like the protagonist of a despair story.

No matter how much the remake changed...

...that aspect of his personality wouldn't simply disappear.

Even so...

Perhaps what he'd just told me was merely another excuse manufactured by Author Senna.

"What about now?"

"You still don't have an appetite?"

"Are you forcing yourself to eat?"

"No!"

"My appetite's overflowing!"

"It's so delicious I'm wondering why I ever considered skipping it!"

"And thanks to you, I'm in a fantastic mood now."

"So you really don't have to worry."

At the very least...

That wasn't the sort of answer Author Senna would have wanted.

Realizing that...

...finally eased my mind.

"...Good."

"And you?"

"You seem much better now, but..."

"I'm fine."

"Yor took good care of me."

"So there's nothing to worry about."

"As expected..."

"Cats really are healing."

"..."

Why...

...did I have the distinct feeling...

...that the "cat" Reisir was talking about wasn't Yor?

Well... Yor isn't a cat in the first place.

She's a dragon.

I wanted to ask what he really meant.

But I was afraid of the answer.

So I pretended not to notice.

"Oh, right."

"I heard this from Lord Djúpr."

"The professors apparently weren't informed about the Special Class for the Awakened until the day before yesterday."

As we resumed eating, Reisir casually changed the subject.

Come to think of it...

Helga had looked ready to march straight to her father immediately after orientation ended.

Reisir had probably accompanied her to meet Djúpr.

"The only exceptions were the professors who'd recently arrived to teach the Awakened."

"They assumed the students already knew the Special Class existed."

Djúpr, who had only Awakened a week ago despite being appointed as a regular professor.

Skati, who had Awakened long ago but had already belonged to the Academy.

Professor Radvisin, who hadn't Awakened at all.

Those three...

Along with every other ordinary professor...

Had only learned about the Special Class two days ago.

The plan to identify every Awakened student with an Awakened Person Detector...

...and forcibly assign them to the Special Class...

Apparently, even the professors who already knew the class existed hadn't known about that part.

They'd most likely learned the truth only when the rest of the faculty received their briefing the day before yesterday.

"That makes sense."

"If everyone discovered the professors had known everything from the very beginning and deliberately stayed silent..."

"...the students forced into the Special Class would never trust them."

"So..."

"It wasn't simply hidden from the professors to preserve secrecy?"

"I don't think so."

"I think the timing was intentional."

"They waited until just before the semester began."

"That way, the professors would sympathize with the students..."

"...and the students would naturally come to trust those professors and rely on them as they trained."

Whether inside a novel...

...or outside one...

Scattering the protagonist's—and the readers'—hostility in every direction rarely accomplished anything.

Expanding the number of conflicts certainly made a story richer.

But it also came with one overwhelming flaw.

The true enemy became blurred.

If people who were effectively allies spent all their time fighting among themselves...

...the readers would inevitably grow frustrated.

Eventually...

...they'd become exhausted.

The protagonist, too...

...would lose sight of his purpose.

He'd begin to wander.

That's why I'm certain.

Author Senna deliberately arranged everything so that every ounce of resentment...

...would be directed toward the Imperial Family.

Or so I believed.