# Chapter 1: The Art of Arrogance
The carriage rattled slightly as it rolled over the cobblestones, but the interior was cushioned enough to absorb the shock. I sat with my legs crossed, gazing out the window at the towering spires of the Aethelgard Imperial Academy.
It was a fortress of magic, built on the intersection of three major ley lines. In the game, it was just a backdrop, a pixelated render I had seen a thousand times. Here, the sheer scale of the mana in the atmosphere made the hairs on my arms stand up. It felt heavy, like the air before a thunderstorm.
"Young Master," the driver called out, his voice trembling slightly. "We have arrived at the West Gate."
I checked my reflection in the small glass pane. Valerius Thorne was undeniably handsome. Jet-black hair that fell over piercing, cold blue eyes. Pale skin that suggested a life of luxury and little sunlight. But underneath the expensive silk of the Academy uniform, this body was weak.
[System Status]
Name: Valerius Thorne
Level: 1
Mana Core: E-Rank (Fractured)
Strength: 4
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 18
Luck: 2
Pathetic. An average soldier had a strength of 10. The Hero, Caelum, started with S-Rank potential. If I fought anyone fairly, I would lose.
So, I won't fight fairly.
I stepped out of the carriage. The Academy entrance was a sea of students, nobles, and carriages. The air buzzed with excitement and the crackle of elemental magic as students showed off their affinities.
"Look, isn't that the trash of House Thorne?"
"I heard he almost died from mana deviation last week trying to force a breakthrough."
"Why is he even here? House Thorne is practically bankrupt."
The whispers hit my ears instantly. The old Valerius would have screamed at them, turning red with embarrassment, demanding respect he hadn't earned.
I adjusted my gloves, smoothing the leather over my fingers. I didn't look at them. I didn't acknowledge them. I walked through the crowd as if they were invisible.
[Passive Skill: The Masquerade is active.]
My heart was racing, pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird, but my face felt frozen, a mask of bored indifference imposed by the System.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out ahead. A large, burly student with the crest of a Boar on his chest—Baron Guntram—was shoving a slender boy with messy brown hair.
The boy dropped his books, scattering parchment across the dirty cobblestones.
"Watch where you're going, peasant!" Guntram shouted, kicking the books away.
The brown-haired boy looked down, clenching his fists. Caelum. The Hero.
This was the scripted event. In the original game, Valerius would join Guntram, mock Caelum, and then Caelum would snap, using a burst of light magic to knock us both down. That would be my first humiliation. The "Tutorial Beatdown."
I walked toward them. The crowd parted, expecting me to join the bullying. I could see the anticipation in their eyes.
I stopped three paces away.
Guntram grinned at me, seeking an ally. "Lord Valerius! Look at this scholarship filth cluttering our path."
I turned my cold blue eyes to Guntram. I didn't look at Caelum.
"Guntram," I said softly. My voice carried a natural, icy authority that surprised even me.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"You are loud," I deadpanned. "And you are blocking my path."
Guntram blinked, confused. "B-But, my Lord, I was just teaching this commoner—"
"I do not care about the commoner," I interrupted, stepping closer. I was shorter than Guntram, but I looked down at him with such utter disdain that he flinched. "I care that a low-ranking Baron's son is making a scene like a braying donkey in front of the Imperial Gates. You are embarrassing the nobility."
The crowd went silent. This wasn't the script.
"Move," I commanded.
Guntram, flushed and humiliated, stepped aside, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
I walked past him. As I passed Caelum, the Hero looked up at me, his eyes wide with surprise. He expected me to kick him. He was waiting for it.
I stopped for a fraction of a second. I glanced at the books on the ground, then at Caelum.
"Pick them up," I said, my voice devoid of pity. "If you intend to stand on this stage, learn to hold onto your weapons. Books are the only weapon a commoner has."
I walked away without waiting for a response.
[System Alert]
[Calculated Action Success.]
[Villain Points Earned: 50]
[Influence Change:]
[Caelum (Hero): Confusion/Interest (+5)]
[Guntram (Mob): Fear (+10)]
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I had avoided the fight, established dominance, and kept my persona intact.
But as I ascended the marble stairs to the Great Hall, I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. A gaze so intense it felt like a physical touch.
I glanced toward the VIP balcony.
Standing there, leaning against the railing with a bored expression, was a girl with silver hair and eyes the color of amethyst.
Seraphina von Zephyr. The daughter of the Archduke. The strongest student in the first year. The Ice Witch.
And in the game... the deadliest Yandere who would eventually freeze the entire capital because the Hero rejected her.
Her eyes met mine. She didn't look away. Instead, a slow, predatory smile curled her lips.
[System Warning]
[Key Character "Seraphina" has taken notice of you.]
[Survival Probability adjusted: -5%]
Great, I thought, suppressing a shudder as I turned away. I just walked out of the frying pan and into the freezer.
I adjusted my collar and walked into the darkness of the Great Hall. The game had begun.