The glowing, aggressively pink holographic screen hovered exactly three inches from my nose.
[System Initialization Complete!]
[Welcome to 'Love & Academia', Heroine Qu Mian! Please select your first capture target to begin your Campus Sweetheart Route!]
I stared at the floating text. Then, moving with the sluggishness of a reanimated corpse, I dragged myself out of the massive, absurdly soft bed and stumbled to the vanity mirror across the lavish dorm room.
Staring back at me was a girl with waist-length, dark purple hair that cascaded down her back like a luxury shampoo commercial. She had massive, shimmering lilac eyes. She looked delicate. Fragile. Like a gentle breeze could knock her over and straight into the arms of a waiting billionaire heir.
"I am going to throw up," I whispered.
I threw a test jab at the air. My arm felt like a wet noodle.
Great. I had the muscle mass of a Victorian child with a cough.
Suddenly, a splitting headache spiked behind my eyes. I gripped the edges of the vanity as a rush of information forcibly downloaded into my brain. The passcode to this dorm room. My class schedule. The tragic realization that this body had never done a single push-up in its entire life.
It was the original Qu Mian's memories. But the plot of the world I was now trapped in? I already knew that part.
My name is—or was—Shen An. I was a completely average college student. Well, average if you count spending ninety percent of my time studying to maintain my scholarship, and the other ten percent winning national collegiate kickboxing tournaments. I had never been in a relationship. I had never wanted to be in a relationship. Why date when you could roundhouse-kick a heavy bag and secure a paid internship?
But as of ten minutes ago, I was Qu Mian. The tragic, overly-romanticized Heroine of a notoriously unhinged modern urban dating sim called Love & Academia.
I had never played the game myself, but my college roommate used to play it religiously in our dorm. She would scream at the screen for hours, complaining about how every single Male Lead was a walking red flag and how every route ended in the Heroine dying. I basically absorbed the entire plot against my will while trying to study for my finals.
I knew two things for a fact.
One: The male leads were all terrifyingly wealthy, obsessive lunatics disguised as college students.
Two: If the Heroine entered a romantic route, she had a ninety-nine percent chance of triggering a "Bad Ending." And in this game, a Bad Ending didn't mean a sad breakup. It meant getting kidnapped, financially ruined, or mysteriously vanishing into the ocean because someone got jealous.
Love in this world wasn't blind. It was a literal death sentence.
[Warning!] The system chimed, the screen blinking rapidly in my face. [Heroine's enthusiasm levels are critically low! Please get dressed! Your 8:00 AM Advanced Economics class awaits, where Destiny surely hides!]
"Destiny can pay my tuition, or Destiny can leave me alone," I muttered.
I didn't have time to have an existential crisis about transmigrating. It was 7:30 AM. If I missed Advanced Economics on the first day, my attendance grade would drop. That would threaten my scholarship, which meant financial ruin.
I threw open the closet. It was filled with pastel skirts, impractical lace blouses, and heels. Absolute garbage for running away from stalkers. I dug all the way to the back and finally found a pair of basic jeans and an oversized grey hoodie.
I threw them on, tied my ridiculous purple hair into a tight, aggressive bun, and grabbed my backpack.
As soon as my hand touched the dorm's front doorknob, the system let out a shrill ding.
[Event Triggered: Sudden Spring Shower!]
[Oh no! The Heroine forgot her umbrella! If you stand helplessly by the campus gates, a handsome Capture Target will surely offer to share his!]
Right on cue, a torrential downpour slammed against the window.
I stared at the rain. Then I stared at the glowing pink text.
"Do I look like an idiot?" I asked the screen. "Pneumonia is expensive. Romance is a trap."
I marched over to my survival bin—every college student has one—and pulled out the emergency rain gear I had thankfully manifested upon transmigrating.
It was a violently bright yellow, knee-length, heavy-duty plastic poncho. It was shaped like a garbage bag and smelled vaguely of tires. It was the least romantic piece of clothing in human history.
I threw it on over my hoodie, pulled the hood tight around my face until only my eyes were visible, and marched out into the storm.
[System Error!] The screen flashed frantically as I stomped through the puddles on the main campus walkway. [Aesthetic Level dropping to critical! Unapproachable Aura detected! Heroine, please remove the hazmat suit!]
"Shut up," I snapped, power-walking past a group of perfectly dry, handsome upperclassmen who stared at me like I was a radioactive lemon. "I am surviving."
I made it to the main academic building by 7:52 AM. I shook off the yellow monstrosity, stuffed it into a plastic grocery bag, and shoved it into my backpack. I was dry. My GPA was safe. I was winning.
I turned the corner toward the lecture hall.
[EMERGENCY ALERT!] The system screen practically exploded into my retinas, flashing a neon red warning.
[Fated Collision Triggered! Brace for impact! High-level Capture Target approaching!]
What? I looked up.
Coming around the blind corner was a guy who looked like he had walked straight off the cover of a Forbes Under 30 magazine.
He had perfectly styled, soft brown hair and sharp, incredibly handsome features that looked like they were carved from ice. He was wearing a dark, tailored dress shirt under a neat preppy sweater, looking like the absolute peak of academic elitism. In his arms, he carried a massive stack of heavily organized, color-coded documents.
I knew who this was.
Xun Ze. The Cold Genius. Student Union President.
The game script demanded that I bump into him, scatter his papers, and share a lingering, romantic eye-contact moment as we picked them up together. He would insult me, I would look defiant, and a spark would ignite.
He was walking fast. I was walking fast. We were two seconds away from the classic, slow-motion, paper-scattering collision.
Not today, System!
Years of martial arts training snapped into my muscles. My new body might be weak, but my reflexes were still top-tier. As Xun Ze took a step forward, anticipating the impact, I planted my left foot, dropped my center of gravity, and executed a flawless, high-speed lateral pivot.
I swooshed past him with three inches to spare.
"What the—" Xun Ze gasped, his icy composure shattering.
Because I wasn't there to act as a human cushion, his momentum carried him forward into empty space. He tripped over his own expensive leather shoes. He didn't fall to the ground, but he stumbled hard, and the massive stack of pristine documents went flying out of his hands, scattering across the polished marble floor like snow.
Silence echoed in the hallway.
Xun Ze froze, staring at his empty hands. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes narrowing into a glare so cold it could freeze boiling water.
"You," he said, his voice a low, terrifying baritone that would make a normal girl's knees weak. Mine just locked defensively. "What is wrong with your spatial awareness? You clearly saw me."
"I did see you," I said flatly. "That's why I dodged. You're welcome for not breaking your nose, by the way."
His jaw tightened. "My papers."
I looked at my watch. 7:55 AM. If I didn't help him, he, as the Student Union President, could absolutely make my academic life a living hell. The game might force a 'revenge' plotline where he torments me by revoking my dorm privileges or cutting my scholarship.
"Fine. Don't move," I ordered.
Before he could utter another cold insult, I dropped into a crouch. My hands blurred. Years of hand-eye coordination from blocking high-speed punches meant I gathered those papers faster than humanly possible. Snap, snap, snap. I grabbed the sheets, stacked them, and organized them by the little colored tabs in under thirty seconds.
I stood up and shoved the neat stack back into his chest. He grabbed them instinctively, looking completely bewildered by my sheer speed.
"Here," I said, already backing away.
"Wait," he said, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the top sheet. "Did you put these in order?"
"Yes. Also," I pointed a finger directly at the center of his top page, "you have a calculation error in section four. Your allocated funds for the science department don't balance with the grant money. Fix it before you present it to the board."
His eyes widened fractionally. The icy facade cracked for a millisecond. He looked down at the paper, then back up at me. "How did you—"
"I'm going to be late!" I interrupted, aggressively pointing at his face. "Please don't deduct my attendance points! Have a nice day!"
I spun around and sprinted down the hall. I didn't look back. I didn't care.
I slid into my seat in the Advanced Economics lecture hall at exactly 7:59 AM. I breathed heavily, pulling out my notebook and a pen. I won. I beat the trope. I was completely safe.
Suddenly, a quiet ding echoed in my head.
A small, glittering pink box appeared in my peripheral vision.
[Target: Xun Ze. Status Update!]
[Xun Ze has never met a woman who didn't swoon over him. Furthermore, no one has ever dared to correct his math. He finds your brutal efficiency and complete lack of romantic interest... intoxicating.]
My blood ran cold.
[Affection +15!]
[Warning: You have successfully unlocked the 'Strict Tutor' Route! Xun Ze will now actively seek you out for 'academic discussions'!]
I stared at the floating screen. The plastic pen in my hand snapped cleanly in two.
Intoxicating? I just organized his paperwork so I wouldn't get a tardy slip!
[Daily Quest Generated: Meet Xun Ze in the Student Union Office at 4:00 PM. Penalty for failure: Forced Proximity Event (Stuck in the Storage Closet).]
I slowly lowered my forehead until it rested flat against my cold desk.
This stupid dating sim really wanted me dead.