The garden was quiet—too quiet for the midday rush of the academy grounds.
There, beneath the blooming shade of a tall Cercis, stood Cordelia and Noah. The tree's heart-shaped petals rained gently over the cobbled path, painting the stones with flecks of pink and violet. Its branches arched above them like a delicate cathedral, filtering the sunlight into a warm, fragmented glow.
But the mood was anything but serene.
Cordelia's fingers tightened around Noah's sleeve. She stepped closer, her voice barely more than breath against the soft hum of spring air.
"Who are you?"
Noah didn't flinch. His eyes remained calm, detached—as if he'd been waiting for that question all along.
"No," he said evenly. "Who are you?"
Cordelia blinked. Her brows creased. "What do you mean by who I am? Who are you? You don't act like Noah."
Noah tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. "What do you mean I don't act like Noah? I act like me."
"That's exactly it," she snapped. "Noah is timid. He didn't have any skills at all. He grew by passing obstacles, by struggling—one hardship at a time."
Noah gave a dry, humorless smile. "Yes. That's me. I did the same, you see. But who the fuck are you, girl? I never saw you in any of my playthroughs... nor in my past life."
Cordelia's breath caught. "What do you mean—playthroughs? Past life?"
Her voice was getting sharper now, louder. A few students strolling near the archway turned their heads.
"We're inside of a novel!" she hissed, voice cracking under the weight of the truth. "You're one of the main protagonists! You and Cael! And I haven't even seen him yet—not even during the academy greetings!"
Noah's face darkened instantly. His jaw tightened, and his next words came out like venom.
"Don't mention that fucking shitty-ass name in front of me again. He's not here anymore."
Cordelia took a step back, stunned. "...What do you mean he's not here anymore?"
Noah met her eyes.
"I killed the protagonist."
Cordelia's entire body recoiled as if struck.
"YOU DID WHAT!?!?!?!"
Voices nearby turned. A couple of students had stopped walking, whispering. Others were starting to notice.
Noah clicked his tongue.
'Tch. Too loud.'
Without another word, he reached forward, grabbed Cordelia by the wrist, and began pulling her away.
"Hey—what are you doing?!"
"We're drawing too much attention," he muttered. "Save your tantrum for somewhere quieter."
They crossed the garden path, turning past trimmed hedges and a bubbling mana-fountain, slipping through a narrow corridor flanked by high academy walls. The hum of student chatter began to fade behind them, replaced by the still hush of a secluded side court surrounded by ivy-covered arches.
Noah finally stopped beside a wooden bench half-shaded by another tree, his grip still on her wrist.
He didn't speak immediately.
Neither did she.
Only the distant toll of a mana-bell and the rustling of leaves filled the silence between them.
Cordelia yanked her arm free the moment he released her.
"You what?!" she repeated, still breathless. "You killed him?! How could you?! Do you even know how long I was reading that novel?!"
Noah leaned back against the ivy-covered wall, arms crossed.
"Let me guess," he muttered. "Five years?"
"FIVE YEARS," she snapped, throwing both hands up. "Five fucking years of cliffhangers, rereads, theorycrafting, and waiting for updates. And now I get sent here, and you—you of all people—kill the protagonist before I even get to meet him?!"
Noah arched an eyebrow. "So... you were reincarnated here?"
"Obviously!" Cordelia nearly screamed. "I thought you were too! You and Cael were supposed to be the core of everything!"
"Yeah, well..." Noah shrugged. "Turns out one of us didn't make the cut."
Cordelia looked ready to punch something. "You were best friends! How could you—?!"
"Wait, wait, wait..." Noah uncrossed his arms, something dawning in his expression. "You read a novel for five years?"
She glared. "Yes! Are you going to ask again because you have short memory or are just deaf?!"
He chuckled. "No. I heard you the first time. I was just... confirming something."
Cordelia folded her arms. "And what would that be, mister edgelord?"
Noah's voice dropped slightly, his tone losing some of its sarcasm.
"In my past life, I lived five years. Only five. And my mood back then... was very different."
Cordelia stared at him.
"You know what that means?" he said slowly, eyes narrowing.
"No! What, am I supposed to be some kind of genie who knows everything?"
"No, inútil ," he snapped in Spanish, almost without thinking. "It means the novel you read..."
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing now—serious in a way that made Cordelia take an involuntary step back.
"...was my past life."
Cordelia stood in place, mouth slightly open, the weight of Noah's words finally settling like ash after an explosion. Her eyes searched his face—hoping, perhaps, for some sign that he was joking.
He wasn't.
"So…" she began, voice hoarse now, almost trembling, "is everything being rewritten… because of me?"
Noah didn't answer at first.
Then, he smiled.
Not a kind smile.
Not even a cruel one.
Just... amused.
"Well," he said with a soft shrug, "I did say I killed the protagonist."
Cordelia stared at him in silence.
For the first time since they'd met, her expression shifted—not with frustration or disbelief, but something deeper.
Fear.
She was afraid.
Not of being hurt, perhaps. But of not understanding the story anymore. Of realizing she wasn't the reader anymore. Maybe never was.
And Noah?
He didn't care.
A breeze stirred the petals at their feet.
A sudden flicker moved between the trees at the edge of the courtyard—too tall for a squirrel, too slow for a bird.
Cordelia didn't see it.
But Noah did.
He didn't even turn.
He just muttered under his breath, low and cold:
"Then let's see what story we write next."