Kael Vire, ex-office worker, current fictional disaster-in-progress, was being harassed by a glowing interface hovering six inches from his face.
[Tutorial Initiating…][Welcome, Kael Vire (Possibly). You are now inhabiting a high-risk, narrative-sensitive entity.][Death Flag Density: 63% and rising.]
Kael stared blearily at the screen as it pulsed gently in the cold morning light. The text shimmered with a subtle golden sheen, like it thought it was doing him a favor.
He muttered a curse under his breath and waved the screen away. It hovered anyway, repositioning itself with annoying cheer.
[Would you like a Tutorial? Y/N]
He stabbed the "N."
[Too bad. You're getting one anyway.]
Kael sighed, leaned against the stone railing of the academy's empty skybridge, and let the dread settle like a second skin. Below him, the silver mist swirled between floating towers. Above, Astralis Academy loomed in rings of impossible architecture, held aloft by ancient aether circuits and hubris.
He was in a webnovel.
And not just any webnovel—Celestia: Rise of the Eightfold Hero.
And he wasn't the hero.
He wasn't even the cool antihero.
He was the early-game, pre-boss, disposable villain: Kael Vire. Chapter 17's designated corpse.
The system chirped again.
[Character Sync: Incomplete. You are currently operating at 64% compatibility.][Aether Core Status: Corrupted Hybrid – Volatile.][Trait Unlocked: Core Drift.]
Kael's eye twitched. "That sounds... aggressively unsafe."
[Correct. Please do not explode during class.]
He massaged his temple. "Can I at least choose what this Core Drift thing does?"
[Core Drift allows unstable affinity sampling across incompatible magic-tech paths. Not recommended for anyone with a functional survival instinct.]
"I don't have a functional survival instinct."
[...You did trip yourself to avoid a duel.]
"That was strategy."
[You cried a little.]
"Strategic tears."
The system dimmed for a moment, perhaps contemplating the existential tragedy of being assigned to this soul, before delivering another line.
[Achievement Unlocked: 'Self-Deprecating Trashfire' – You acknowledge your own narrative garbage fire.][+3 Wit Resistance. +1 Inner Monologue Damage Reduction.]
Kael gave the sky his middle finger.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of avoidance.
He skipped Advanced Aether Manipulation, wandered into the archives pretending to research "strategic vacuum harmonics" (nobody questioned it), and spent the better part of two hours shadowing a janitor drone until it buzzed irritably and told him to "find a better hobby."
At one point, he sat through an entire economics lecture in a third-year class just to stay invisible. It was taught by a golem.
No one noticed.
Exactly the way he wanted it.
Mostly.
By early afternoon, he was back in his quarters, sprawled across the cold leather couch, staring up at the high vaulted ceiling.
The room was still unfamiliar, still too sharp, too clean. It didn't feel like a dorm. It felt like a stage.
A place designed for someone important.
Kael closed his eyes.
In the original novel, Kael Vire was the prodigy of House Vire—a noble house known for breeding monsters in suits. He had the top marks, the deadliest dueling record, and an ego large enough to need its own aether signature.
He had also been an idiot.
Picking fights with the protagonist. Publicly humiliating other heirs. Using experimental sigil arrays with unstable results. His death hadn't been just a plot point—it had been inevitable.
And now Kael had to live in that legacy.
In this body.
He opened his eyes again. "System."
[Online.]
"Show me the current event timeline."
[Pulling from corrupted Source Memory…]
A new screen appeared—text scrolling rapidly.
Event: "House Vire Disciplinary Duel" Time: Tomorrow @ 1600 ASTParticipants: Kael Vire vs Icarus Renn (Vire-Blooded Servant Class) Original Outcome: Kael humiliates and injures Icarus. Arin Solari intervenes. Public disgrace ensues.Flag Triggered: Loss of peer support. House reputation damage. Early disciplinary mark.Recommended Action: Do not attend.
Kael let out a long breath.
"Easy enough. I'll pretend I'm sick."
[You will need a reason stronger than that. This is a House matter.]
"Fine. I'll fall down the stairs."
[...Again?]
"Repeated trauma builds character."
[No. It builds suspicion.]
Kael sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Then I'll delegate it. Assign a proxy."
[That is technically permitted by Vire protocol.]
"Good. Let's find someone with worse manners than me."
[Error: No such person detected.]
"Helpful."
A knock at the door shattered the fragile peace.
Kael froze.
He wasn't expecting visitors.
No one visited Kael Vire unless they wanted something sharp.
He padded to the door, wary. The sensors glowed red before fading to green, and the metal parted with a hiss.
Standing there, tall, immaculate, and radiating frostbite, was Veyra Myrrh.
Kael blinked once, slowly. "I'm sorry. I didn't order an assassination."
Veyra stared at him like he was an unwashed utensil.
"You missed combat class," she said, stepping inside without invitation.
Kael backed up instinctively.
"You don't say."
"You were scheduled to lead the advanced pair drills."
"I decided not to," he said. "In a shocking display of common sense."
"You're two days from the House Duel." She sat in his chair. His chair. "That doesn't look good."
"Neither does a caved-in skull."
"Cowardice isn't a viable long-term strategy."
Kael leaned against the edge of his desk. "Neither is martyrdom, but hey—original me gave it a good run."
Veyra's head tilted. "Are you… mocking yourself?"
He smiled faintly. "I find it helps with the crippling existential horror."
There was a long silence.
Veyra folded her arms.
"You're acting different."
"I got hit on the head. Realigned my priorities."
"You had a full psyche scan last week."
"Must've missed something. You should ask for a refund."
Another pause.
Then, surprisingly, her expression shifted. Not to warmth, but something less icy. Cautious.
"There are rumors," she said, quieter now. "That you've gone soft. That your Core is malfunctioning. That House Vire is losing grip."
Kael didn't answer immediately.
He walked to the window and stared out at the floating sky city, its spires casting long shadows into the violet clouds.
Good. Let them talk.
Let the other Houses underestimate him.
Let the story rewrite itself.
"That's fine," Kael said at last. "Let them think I'm broken."
"Why?"
He glanced back at her.
"Because broken things get thrown away. No one tries to use them again."
Veyra didn't move. But she didn't argue.
After a moment, she stood.
"You'll need to face the House eventually."
"Eventually," Kael agreed. "But not tomorrow."
Later that night, as Astralis Academy dimmed under a false sky, Kael sat cross-legged on the cold stone balcony outside his dorm.
He watched the clouds drift past.
The System hovered nearby, quiet for once.
[Plot Trajectory: Diverging. Minor instability detected.][Narrative Core... Watching.]
Kael stared at the screen.
"Yeah," he whispered. "I know."
He could feel it.
Something—some presence—lurking behind the fabric of this world. Waiting. Judging. Reacting to him. The plot itself was alive in a way it never had been in the book. It breathed. Shifted. Corrected.
And it would push back.
He was Kael Vire now. But he wasn't going to play the part.
Not this time.
He would cheat. Hide. Duck every flag.
And if the story tried to kill him again?
Well.
It could get in line.