The sunlight spilt across the school campus in a way that was frankly too beautiful to be legal.
It was the kind of lighting you only see in high-budget anime—golden, soft, and utterly fake. Even the birds weren't just chirping; they were whispering in the trees, which was the first sign that reality here was frayed at the edges.
I stood in the dead centre of the courtyard, ruining the aesthetic, and screamed at the top of my lungs.
"Why me?! How does it even end up like this?!"
To understand my misery, we have to rewind. A little while ago, I was just a normal high school student. I was walking down the road, minding my own business, when Truck-kun—the legendary interdimensional delivery vehicle—decided I needed a career change. One impact later, I was dead.
I woke up transmigrated into the body of a devastatingly handsome high school guy in Japan. At first, I was thrilled.
New life, top-tier face—what could go wrong?
The writer. That's what.
My father, a man who clearly values his ego over his son's mental health, is the reason I'm standing here. See, on a Tuesday night—March 3rd—he went out drinking with his friends and started bragging about the "Why-Why Academy." It's an elite school where only the top 3% are even considered. Drunk on pride, my dad declared that his son was a genius who could get in with his eyes closed.
His friends didn't just laugh; they issued a challenge. "Your son won't get in," they mocked. "And even if he does, he won't survive a week."
The next morning, Dad woke up to a flurry of messages and an admission paper his "friends" had somehow procured just to spite him.
The realisation hit him like a hangover. He crept into my room, locked the door, and for a second, I felt true fear.
Then, he did the unthinkable: he knelt, tightly hugged my legs, and sobbed.
"Nishchal! You're my only hope! I can't be humiliated in front of the guys! If you don't survive this school, I'm kicking you out of the house!"
So, here I am.
But this isn't just a school.
It's the setting of a famous novel I once read. And here's the kicker: I'm the "Main Character" of this story now, but the original protagonist of the book, a guy named Yuki, is still here.
Yuki is a monster. He's a cold-blooded manipulator and an MMA expert who controls everyone from behind the scenes. In the book, he was the hero, but in my reality? He's my rival.
He's the one who kicks people out of school if they mess up his plans. He's the apex predator, and I'm just the guy trying not to get expelled.
I am Nishchal Kurosawa. My mother is Indian, my father is Japanese, and I am stuck in a war I never signed up for. The Writer keeps adding conflict to my life like it's a seasoning, and I don't even know what the genre of my story is anymore!
(A quick warning in an evil tone: If I get anything wrong about Japan, criticise the Writer, not me. I'm just a character living in his draft.)
I started walking toward the exam hall, but of course, I couldn't find it.
"Seriously, Writer?" I hissed at the sky. "Why am I lost? What kind of cheap plot twist is this?"
Suddenly, the wind picked up. Long black hair floated through the air, catching the sunlight, and a girl with glowing, porcelain skin appeared.
Why is there a boy standing here alone? she thought, her eyes scanning me. Does he need help?
I sighed. Great. The Writer is introducing a 'New Character.' Since the author is too lazy to give you the details, I'll do it myself.
Meet Yukari Saionji. In the novel I read, she was the legendary "Ice Queen." You readers should be thanking me for the spoilers.
I walked up to her, keeping my handsome protagonist face steady. "Where's the exam hall?"
"Go straight, then turn left," she said, her voice like cooling silk.
I didn't linger. I gave a quick nod and hurried off. I could feel her gaze on my back. He's so handsome, even up close, she thought.
Wait... why did I just give him directions? That was the best chance to walk with him, and I didn't even get his name!
I looked at you—the reader—as I reached the hallway. "I want to die. I already decided she's wife material, but look at the 'graphics' here! It's not 'Anime Style.' It's like those terrible live-action adaptations.
You know, like Dragon Ball 7 or those awful Boku movies? You're lucky; if this ever gets a Manhwa adaptation, I'll look the way I'm supposed to. Right now, I'm stuck in a hyper-realistic nightmare."
I finally stepped into the classroom. The exam was about to begin.
"If you want to know what happens to me, you'll have to read the next chapter," I said, taking my seat. "I promise the Writer will get to it eventually, even if he is incredibly lazy.
Support the story, tell your friends I'm the best fourth-wall breaker in the business. Peace out!"