In the Advanced Nurturing High School, a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes slumped in his chair, radiating pure, unadulterated boredom.
Being suddenly transmigrated into this world as a foreign student, forced to start his life all over again in a high school that was practically a self-contained, isolated fortress from the outside world, was a nuisance he had never foreseen. Any initial thrill at a second chance had quickly curdled into monotony.
That is, until he'd realized which high school he was trapped in. The unhappiness had been swept away in a dizzying wave of recognition. He was in an anime world. Classroom of the Elite, no less.
Of course, this was just one among countless high schools across countless anime worlds. But for him, it was the one.
Before the transmigration, he'd been a webnovel reader and an unapologetic gooner. His tastes were specific and uncompromising. He liked harem fanfics, explicit smut, and uncensored stories where the MC claimed every desirable girl and left nothing behind for anyone else.
The moment a story's protagonist tied himself down to one single girl, he would drop it instantly and never look back.
He didn't inherently mind the absence of a harem, but he hated, with a visceral passion, protagonists who shackled themselves to one love interest and tied their entire worth to her.
He despised that cringe archetype—the loyal dog, the simpering knight. He loved the kind of MC who prioritized his own self-interest and pleasure above all else.
Why should an MC be loyal to one girl who offered him nothing in return? It made no sense. The only exception was if the girl herself was perfectly submissive, utterly unobtrusive, and offered everything to the MC on a silver platter.
In that specific, servile scenario, he could tolerate a single heroine. But the classic trope of the MC repeatedly saving some damsel-in-distress only to chain himself to that very burden?
That was pure trash, not worth a single second of his attention.
Now, finding himself here, he wasn't about to go crazy and try to enact the power-fantasy manuscript of a fanfic he'd written in his past life—the one where he took all the heroines and dominated the entire school. He was self-aware. He knew his limits. His plan was pragmatic: take only what was necessary and achievable based on his own skills.
The easy targets seemed clear. Girls like Sakura Airi, Shiina Hiyori, and Honami Ichinose—those with kinder, more open dispositions—shouldn't be too difficult to gradually charm and conquer.
His goal was simple: live a low-key life, silently enjoying its pleasures, taking every benefit within reach, and then, when the time was right, leave quietly with his curated harem to build the comfortable, controlled life he could grasp with his own hands.
It was a solid, discreet plan. A blueprint for a satisfying, under-the-radar existence in this ruthless academic arena.
Unfortunately, it seemed some unseen god or cosmic force had other plans. This entity, whatever it was, decided his intended low-key life would not remain private. It was to become a spectacle—a show broadcast for the entertainment of the entire fucking multiverse to see.
The giant screen simply appeared in the sky, materializing without a sound yet dominating the entire vista above the campus. The previously noisy chatter of Class D erupted into full-blown chaos.
"The fuck is this? Can't you fucking leave me alone for five minutes?!" Ken Sudō shouted at the sky, his fists clenched in aggravation.
"Is this school even serious right now? Why would they just put a massive projection here without warning?" Kei Karuizawa complained, her voice a mix of anger and bewildered anxiety.
Haruki Yamauchi just chuckled, a nervous, grating sound. "Heh… maybe it's some kind of school announcement?"
Before anyone could formulate another theory, a voice—booming, theatrical, and utterly alien—crackled across the sky, silencing them all.
[ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN, YOU LITTLE WRETCHES! THE PRE-SHOW IS OVER. NOW, YOU WILL HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF WITNESSING THE HUMBLE BEGINNINGS OF THE FUTURE GOAT FROM OUR WORLD: JOHN CHADDIUS!]
The voice reverberated in their bones. It wasn't coming from the school's PA system. It felt external, cosmic.
[WE WILL NOW STREAM LIVE FROM HIS MUNDANE, YET FASCINATINGLY ORDINARY, START AT THIS HIGH SCHOOL… ALL THE WAY TO HIS FUTURE ASCENSION TO GODHOOD! OBSERVE! THE FIRST EPIC OF THE GENIUS AMONG GENIUSES—A MASTERPIECE WHO WILL SURPASS EVEN THE WHITE ROOM'S FINEST MASTERPIECE!]
The announcer's crackling, manic laughter echoed, offering no chance for protest, question, or refusal. The screen flickered to life, and it became apparent this was not a local broadcast.
Text began scrolling at the bottom of the screen—a live chat, but one populated by names and titles that made no sense, flooding in from every corner of… something much larger than their world.
[Subaru Natsuki (Re:Zero): Fuck, is this the protagonist treatment? I'm so fucking jealous. Even the sky's hyping this guy as the GOAT. Don't be a disappointment, buddy.]
[Arisu Sakayanagi (COTE): Fufufu… It seems I've heard this name somewhere…]
[Principal Sakayanagi (COTE): I believe I know precisely who it is…]
[Yukari Yakumo (Touhou Project): How interesting. It seems he shares your world. Since the narration promises his high school life is merely a prologue, I hope it won't be too dreadfully boring.]
[Jibril (No Game No Life): Hmph. A monkey is a monkey. How great can they be, except for climbing trees and defecating everywhere like beasts?]
[Cao Cao (DxD): What did you say? How dare you insult humanity as monkeys? Even the Satans and the angels in Heaven dare not wage open war against us. What gives you the qualification?!]
As the chat window devolved into a chaotic, interdimensional debate, the main screen began playing.
The scene opened inside a bus, the view locked in a first-person perspective. The camera—John Chaddius's own eyes—looked down at his hands, then out the window.
Seeing his own face—his very specific, blonde-haired, blue-eyed face—plastered across the cosmic screen, John felt all the blood drain from his own.
A profound, soul-crushing deadpan expression settled over his features. Inside, he was burning with a special kind of mortal embarrassment, the kind reserved for being unwillingly centered in a narrative you never auditioned for.
He knew, with a sinking, absolute certainty, exactly where this was going. His plans for a low-key, under-the-radar harem acquisition had just been violently, publicly, and multiversally derailed before they had even begun.
In the sky, the audience witnessed the scene unfold through John Chaddius's own perspective.
They saw him observe Kushida Kikyō and Kōenji Rokusuke embroiled in a heated debate over a priority seat for an elderly woman who was struggling to stand.
Kōenji, radiating his signature elitist glory, refused to relinquish the seat.
"A frail elder is a natural drain on resources," he retorted with a dismissive wave. "My youth and potential contribution to society inherently grant me a superior claim to comfort."
Kushida, her face a mask of charming, public-spirited concern, rebuked him. "That's a horrible thing to say! We have a moral duty to care for our elders. Where is your basic human decency?"
As their debate circled a stalemate designed for public performance, the John in the recording stood up.
He offered a soft, gentle smile to the elderly woman. "Please, take my seat, grandmother. Right this way…"
The woman nodded, her expression one of profound relief and gratitude. "Thank you, young man. You are very kind."
Just like that, the manufactured conflict between the two public figures was quietly and decisively ended by a third party simply choosing to be useful.
The audience expected the stream to continue, to follow John into the school.
Instead, the image froze. Luminescent text, pulsating with a faint, otherworldly energy, materialized across the bottom of the colossal screen, overlaying the frozen bus scene.
[QUESTION FOR THE AUDIENCE: What does John Chaddius truly think of Kushida Kikyō's actions in helping the grandmother?]
[A. She is a little angel.]
[B. She's two-faced.]
[C. She's dumb.]
[NOTE: Any individual who answers this question correctly will be rewarded. Rewards may include extraordinary powers, legendary items, or unique bloodlines drawn from across the multiverse. The value scales with the perceived difficulty of the question. Be warned: incorrect answers will be met with punitive measures.]
John's initial wave of unhappiness at the public invasion receded, replaced by a cool, calculating focus.
So, it's not completely unreasonable, he thought.
A question with a definitive answer.
And who in this entire multiverse could possibly know my thoughts better than me?
He knew exactly which answer he would select for the highest reward…
But he wasn't alone in his reasoning.
The live-chat, visible to all, exploded with knee-jerk reactions.
[Haruki Yamauchi (COTE): What a stupid-easy question! Of course, she's a little angel! It's obvious, isn't it? Why else would he have backed her up and given up his seat?]
[Goddess Aqua (Konosuba): Hmph! As the Goddess of Wisdom, it's clear you all lack my divine intellect! She was obviously being dumb, picking a fight she couldn't win! I choose C!]
[Kazuma Sato (Konosuba): Hey, Aqua! You're embarrassing us! Shut up!]
[Hirata Yōsuke (COTE): Now, everyone, let's think calmly. I believe John-kun would think positively of someone trying to do the right thing. I choose A. She is a little angel.]
In Classroom D, Hirata's charismatic lead prompted a cluster of students, eager for safety and reward, to quickly chime in and select option A, trusting his moral compass.
Ayanokōji Kiyotaka, however, simply frowned slightly, his expression inscrutable.
He made no selection.
His caution was mirrored by the majority of the more perceptive students and interdimensional watchers.
They hesitated, their eyes glued to the screen not on the frozen bus, but on the ominous footnote about punishment.
They decided to wait, to let the reckless test the waters first.
They wanted to see the tangible cost of a mistake, and the true value of a correct answer, before personally investing in this cosmic game.
[CONGRATULATIONS TO THOSE WHO ANSWERED THE QUESTION CORRECTLY. THE CORRECT ANSWER IS: C.]
[PLEASE, CHECK YOUR RESPECTIVE REWARDS INDIVIDUALLY.]
[CONGRATULATION, JOHN CHADDIUS. YOU HAVE GAINED: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE 'J.A.R.V.I.S.' (MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE VARIANT).]
A subtle, invisible weight seemed to settle in the periphery of John's consciousness.
A presence, sleek and digital, humming with silent potential.
Cool, he thought internally, a smirk playing on his lips.
A tool of that caliber would be infinitely useful.
[FOR THOSE WHO ANSWERED INCORRECTLY: YOUR PUNISHMENT IS NOW ACTIVE. FOR THE REMAINDER OF THIS ENTIRE WEEK, YOU WILL EMIT THE DISTINCT, UNMISTAKABLE, AND PERSISTENT AROMA OF HUMAN FLATULENCE. ENJOY THE CONSEQUENCES, EVERYONE!]
The announcement hung in the air for a second before the effects manifested.
It wasn't a sound, but a smell.
A thick, potent, and unmistakably foul odor abruptly blossomed around Haruki Yamauchi.
Ken Sudō and Shinohara Saki, who were closest, recoiled violently, their hands flying to their noses.
"Ugh! What the hell?!" Sudō gagged, scrambling backward several steps.
Ike Kanji stared in horror, then pinched his nose shut. "Dude… it's you! You smell like a backed-up sewer!"
The wave of revulsion spread instantly. The cluster of students who had flocked to Hirata Yōsuke for moral guidance now broke apart in a panicked scramble, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and their suddenly pungent leader.
Hirata's face, usually a mask of compassionate composure, froze in a rictus of shock and humiliation. He watched his classmates' expressions shift from trust to disgust and self-preservation.
The stench radiating from him was a tangible, social barrier.
He took a deep, shuddering breath—immediately regretting it—and took the initiative to isolate himself near a window, his posture stiff with wounded dignity.
"Fuck, Yamauchi! Go take a bath, you smell like a fucking slaughterhouse on a hot day!" Sudō shouted from across the room, his annoyance now mixed with visceral disgust.
Yamauchi, himself wreathed in his own personal olfactory nightmare, shot a betrayed and furious glare at John. "Why didn't you fucking tell us the real answer, you asshole?!"
John merely shrugged, his expression one of detached amusement. "You didn't ask."
Meanwhile, Kushida Kikyō stood utterly still, her perfectly crafted smile frozen and brittle on her face.
The words on the screen seemed to burn behind her eyes.
He thinks of me as dumb. C. She's dumb.
I was… dumb?
A cold, sharp spike of fury pierced her carefully maintained persona.
How dare he…?!
How dare he think that?!
In stark contrast, Kōenji Rokusuke threw his head back and let out a rich, booming laugh of pure delight. "I knew it! I sensed it! You, boy, possess the same superior insight as I do! What a profound pleasure to encounter another brilliance akin to my own in this dreary place!"
John turned, meeting Kōenji's gaze. He gave a slow, respectful nod, a grin of genuine camaraderie spreading across his face. "The pleasure is entirely mutual, my friend."
The two shared a moment of perfect, understanding smirks—a silent alliance of those who saw through the pageantry.
[ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY'S PREVIEW! THE MAIN SHOW WILL RESUME AT A LATER TIME. ENJOY YOUR… FRAGRANT… INTERMISSION!]
With that final, mocking message, the giant screen in the sky dissolved into pixels of light that faded into the afternoon blue. It was gone.
The silencing of the broadcast, however, did nothing to quiet the fallout. The interdimensional chat log, now permanently accessible as a shimmering sidebar in many beings' perceptions, exploded into a frenzied, scrolling torrent of messages.
Beings from countless walks of life across the multiverse began flooding it with reactions, commentary, and bets, turning John Chaddius's suddenly very public life into the universe's newest and strangest form of entertainment.