Unintentionally, Yuna's one-on-one sessions with her classmates seemed to be triggering a chain of dramatic epiphanies—something she never aimed for but was now quietly regretting. As someone who had transmigrated from a modern world and devoured every kind of fantasy and supernatural novel known to man, her naturally divergent thinking somehow kept unlocking new perspectives her classmates hadn't considered.
Well… truthfully, even she got a little carried away while talking about all the different ways to use their abilities. As a fantasy novel enthusiast, this was a rare, golden opportunity—getting to discuss one-on-one with real ability users and test out if her wild theories actually worked? Honestly, it was incredible. It felt like living out her own fantasy of discovering how she would use supernatural powers if she ever had them.
Even if she wasn't the one wielding those abilities, just watching others bring her imagined tactics to life was almost just as satisfying.
Well, the actual situation is that 'one dare to speak and the other dare to do'
One by one, the students she had spoken to marched off to the end of the combat hall, each muttering to themselves like mad scientists on the cusp of discovery, testing out newly inspired ways to use their abilities.
Next up was the illusion ability user—a boy who looked like he had just walked out of a fancy tea party. Dressed to the nines with his hair immaculately styled, he glided over and plopped down on the seat in front of her with a theatrical flourish.
"Good morning, mom~ What would you like to know about your lovely son today?" he cooed, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a tone dripping with ambiguous flirtation.
Yuna's expression didn't budge an inch. Her eyes dead and hollow like a dried-up fish that's seen too much, she replied in a voice as flat as a dry pancake, "What do you think illusion really is?"
After talking so much, Yuna started to get the hang on what question to ask and how to carry out the conversation.
The dainty boy tilted his head, surprisingly thoughtful for once. "Illusion is... portraying something so convincingly real that people can't tell the difference. Creating an alternate reality that fools the senses."
Not wrong. But what if…..
With a spark of interest, Yuna leaned slightly forward, her mind churning "Illusion, in its most basic form, is a lie. A deception. It's not just about mimicking realism. It's about fooling perception itself. You don't have to create a castle—just make them believe one exists. Trick their senses into betraying them. The power isn't in what you show. It's in what they think they see."
The boy blinked, repeating quietly, "Deceiving perception…"
Clearly, something clicked. His eyes lit up like he just unlocked a new stage of enlightenment in a cultivation novel. Yuna, caught up in her nerdy excitement, added, "Illusion is deception. Falsehood. A fallacy. Your job isn't to entertain. It's to manipulate belief."
The boy made an exaggerated "Aha!" sound, like a dramatic scholar who'd just been enlightened under a waterfall. Without warning, he shot up from his seat, dramatically flung his arms around Yuna, and mumbled, "Thanks, mom," in that same cheeky tone—then bolted away at top speed toward the other end of the hall.
Her eye twitched. I didn't transmigrate to babysit emotionally unhinged prodigies who call me mom.
And yet, here she was. The unofficial class rep, therapist, drill sergeant, and now apparently also… mom.
"Cheeky brat" Yuna muttered under her breathe.
The next to plop down in front of her was Theo—the ever-mischievous prankster of the class. A warrior by specialty.
Unfortunately for Yuna, when it came to brute strength and flashy, action-packed combat techniques, she was totally clueless. She'd always skimmed over those parts in the novels she read.
Ugh… this really isn't my field, Yuna sighed internally, already regretting her life choices.
....
Theo stared at their class rep—her black hair cascading softly, pale skin like untouched snow, and above all, those striking black eyes that seemed to pierce straight through. Whenever she looked at someone, it felt as though they were the only existence reflected in her gaze.
She was... strange
"Why do you want us to get stronger?" Theo asked bluntly. It was the very question his classmates couldn't bring themselves to voice. They preferred living in the comforting illusion that Yuna pushed them to grow stronger because she genuinely cared.
But really—could someone be that selfless? That pure-hearted in a world where power, status, and ambition reigned supreme?
Everyone fought to rise above others. To stand at the top. And yet out came this one bizarre girl who seemed determined to drag everyone up together, even while neglecting her own progress.
Theo had never bought into her persona. But even so, he went along with it—just like the others. Maybe because, deep down, a part of him wanted to believe in the illusion too.
And now, watching her delve into their abilities one by one, offering fresh insights and ideas without holding back a single thing—it almost made him laugh. Who just hands over power like that? Who shares their secrets when they could easily use them to get ahead?
Is she an idiot… or is she plotting something?
What exactly was she getting out of this?
Theo kept his trademark mischievous grin in place, masking the storm of questions whirling behind his eyes. Around them, their cowardly classmates subtly leaned closer, eager to hear how Yuna would respond.
Would she throw out some cliché like, "Because I want you to be safe, so you must grow stronger," or maybe the classic "Because I care about you all"?
Even if she did, they'd eat it up. They always did. They'd lap it up and keep following her… until she finally slipped and showed her true face.
It wasn't about craving attention or affection. But Yuna—she was infuriatingly good at playing the role of the nurturing elder. She gave just the right amount of care, the right kind of guidance.
She acted like the supportive adult figure they never got to have. Their own families treated them more like tools—assets that needed to become stronger and more valuable, not people with worth beyond utility.
Yuna's plans, on the other hand, seemed to be built around them as individuals, regardless of their strength or potential. It didn't matter whether they were valuable or not—she still looked after them.
Even if it was fake… it was addicting.
So they went along with it. Watching. Waiting. Ready to act the moment she slipped.
After all, none of them were innocent, naïve teenagers. Anyone who made it into the top three prestigious academies had to claw their way in. They were not harmless. They just knew how to wear masks.
And the Heart Class… that magical ball thing really had a talent for gathering peculiar people. Each of them had something strange simmering beneath the surface. They just hid it well. But every now and then, the cracks would show.
Yuna blinked. Once. Then twice.
Of all the questions she expected today, "Why do you want us to grow stronger?" was not one of them.
If she wanted to be a classic manipulative leader or some affection-hungry heroine, she could've lied—spouted something like "Because I care about all of you." But she wasn't gunning for leadership. Nor was she emotionally starved enough to collect loyalty points from hormonal teenagers.
So, she said it. Bluntly. With the emotional finesse of a tired office worker quitting via email.
"Because I don't want to worry about you lots later," she said, face blank. "Once you grow stronger, do I have to monitor you all again? No. I can finally rest in peace—without being haunted by the ghost of class rep duties."
She paused, exhaled loudly, and began grumbling.
"You guys are so annoying. Why do you need me to spoon-feed you through everything? Can't you, I don't know, use your brain cells for once? Why am I the one stuck at babysitting?!"
They always said that children in fantasy worlds mature early and learn to take care of themselves from a young age—but Yuna wasn't seeing any of that. She felt utterly scammed. All those novels she read had lied to her face!
Across from her, Theo raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected that kind of answer. But he didn't back down either.
"You don't have to care, though. No one forced you," he pointed out, voice calm.
Yuna groaned and rolled her eyes so hard, she swore she saw last week's lunch.
"It's called responsibility, you feral child. Try Googling it sometime." Ugh…she forgot, Lord Google is not here in this world.
Theo smirked, but inside, he was curious. No—restless. He wanted to keep poking. There was something about her bluntness that didn't sit right. It was too straightforward, too practiced. So, he pushed further.
"No one's forcing you to follow through. It's just a title."
Yuna gave him a withering look. "You'll understand when you grow up. Wanting to fulfill a responsibility is my own decision. Call it personal conviction or whatever."
Theo tilted his head, genuinely intrigued now. So it's a choice, huh? She chose to take care of them. Not for power, not for praise… but because she wanted to.
He met her gaze, his smile fading. "Then do you care about us?"
"No," she said flatly. "I can't even take care of myself. Where would I get the time or mental space to care about someone else? Stop dreaming. Wake up." Being delulu is not the solulu. Wake up to reality. ←_←
And yet… every word that followed sounded like the opposite.
"Then why do you take care of us?"
"Responsibility!" she flailed her arms, annoyed. "How many times do I have to repeat it?!"
"Is it only responsibility?"
"What else could it possibly be!?"
"You made a hunting plan so we could eat."
"So you wouldn't starve to death!"
"Sounds like you care."
"I just don't want corpses on my conscience!"
"You let us explore alchemy and apothecary."
"So you wouldn't get hurt while hunting!"
"So… you do care."
"It's called basic management! Why can't you get that through your thick skull?!"(╯°□°）╯
A true corporate leader knows how to extract every valuable skill from their subordinates—and Yuna was simply applying that same method here! Just basic, bare-minimum management 101!
Theo stared at her, amused and baffled.
This girl… she really thinks she doesn't care? She's done more for us than our own families. Even when we're annoying, even when we don't listen, she still plans, organizes, adjusts. Every decision she makes, she makes it with us in mind.
But here she was, arms crossed, lips tight, acting like she was some cold-blooded taskmaster.
He kept going.
"The class rep responsibility didn't state you have to do all that."
"Everyone interprets responsibility in their own way! This is my way!"
Theo squinted at her. "Are you sure you don't have a very strange definition of responsibility?"
Yuna stared at him as if he were the stupid one.
'This brat really thinks he's making a point. Let him try being a class rep for one week and see how fast he starts crying into his pillow. Responsibility? More like babysitting with extra paperwork'
Theo, watching her face—frustrated, serious, and so obviously emotionally invested—suddenly let out a laugh.
Their class rep was truly hopeless. So stupid. So unbelievably stupid.
She really believes she doesn't care… even as she tries to make sure none of us starve or die. Even as she checks up on us, nudges us forward, thinks ahead for us. She doesn't even know how deeply she's already involved.
It was kind of… cute.
No—dangerously cute.
They were all waiting for the day she shows her true face. The cold manipulator hiding behind kindness. But what if… there's no mask? What if this is just her? This idiot who thinks "caring" is just fulfilling a checklist?
She really didn't know how to protect herself. Not in this world. Not with people like them, who were willing to take and take and take until there was nothing left.
Theo's laughter died down, but the strange warmth in his chest didn't. They'll have to protect her, don't they? From others who will try to take advantage of her like them who took advantage of her care.
Because someone this honest, this stupidly genuine, was exactly the kind of person this world would eat alive.