The Entrance Exams [1]

Morning light crept across the backyard clearing as birds chirped somewhere above, cheerfully ignorant of the life-altering entrance exam happening that day.

Inside the oversized noble tent, Clovis Dreadthorn was already wide awake — mostly because he hadn't slept.

He was currently standing beneath the overhead showerhead of what could only be described as "a suspiciously luxurious bath chamber stuffed inside a deceptively small tent."

It didn't make sense spatially or logically.

From the outside, the tent looked average-sized. From the inside? It had a bathroom with marble tiles, water temperature settings, steam crystals, and a mirror that complimented your cheekbones.

"Magic is wild," Clovis muttered, turning the handle as hot water poured down his body. "I almost don't miss hospitals."

Almost.

He savored the warmth for a few extra minutes. No one with a soul chose cold showers before the most important day of their life.

After toweling off and wrapping the fabric around his waist, Clovis strolled to the closet — yes, the tent also had a closet — and opened it to reveal a full rack of fresh academy uniforms.

"…This brat really hated doing laundry."

Apparently, Clovis's noble father had ordered dozens of uniforms because the original Clovis would rather spend 20 gold on a new shirt than learn how to wash one.

With a small sigh, Clovis pulled out the white short-sleeved shirt and black trousers of the Astralis Academy uniform.

It looked a little too big, but the moment he put it on, a soft ping echoed and blue light shimmered across the cloth.

The outfit tightened and adjusted itself perfectly to his frame.

"Magic is really, really convenient."

Just then, a groggy groan came from the cot behind the curtain.

Oliver.

Clovis peeked his head out. "Hey, get up. Bath's free."

Oliver mumbled something about "blessed warmth" before leaping out of bed with a face full of panic. "Shit — are we late?!"

"No. I'm just organized."

"Why the hell are you awake before me?" Oliver shouted, already unbuckling his gear as he dashed into the shower. "That's illegal!"

Clovis chuckled softly. A few minutes later, a soaked, refreshed Oliver came out and got dressed.

Once they were both ready, the two stepped outside into the morning sunlight. Oliver walked to the side of the tent and tapped a small rune-etched panel.

With a zip-zoom sound, the entire massive tent shrank down into a metal cube the size of a large apple.

He popped it into his pocket.

"Man," Oliver stretched, "that was kinda uncomfortable though. Nothing beats sleeping in a king-sized bed, am I right, Clovis?"

Clovis stopped mid-step and slowly turned his head toward Oliver.

The way his gaze narrowed was the same way a pureblood vampire might look at someone who just said, "Garlic tastes fine."

"…You're comparing a magical luxury tent to a king-sized bed?"

"Uh…"

"You disgust me."

"I—I was just saying—!"

Clovis turned with a dramatic huff and began marching forward.

Oliver chased after him. "Come on, don't be like that! I'm just more of a bed guy!"

"You're a clown," Clovis muttered.

The two soon arrived at the grand front gates of Astralis Academy.

The academy stood like a palace carved from obsidian and starlight, towering high with dozens of spires and banners fluttering in the wind.

The outer courtyard was bustling with new students, most wearing similar uniforms.

Oliver whistled. "Damn, lotta pretty girls here."

Clovis facepalmed.

"Seriously, the way those uniforms hug the curves—"

"Get your head in the game, pervert. If we fail this exam, even our influence won't get us in."

That wasn't true.

They were both nobles, and the Dreadthorn name was hefty enough to pull strings. But Clovis didn't want to coast on nepotism.

Not this time. This time, he needed to stand out. Make waves. Attract attention. Especially the kind with golden eyes and plot armor.

There were five main heroines and three major villainesses introduced early in the game.

The rest came later. If he could start interacting with even one of the key characters during the entrance phase, he'd be ahead of schedule.

They made their way toward the reception when —

"Gentlemen! Adventurers! Future legends!"

A man dressed in flamboyant red robes shouted from a small booth beside the pathway. On display was a single crimson cape that sparkled aggressively in the sun.

"Yes, you! You there, young nobles! You look like you seek glory! What better way to impress the judges than—" he raised the cape dramatically "—a cape from the gods! This artifact will boost your confidence, style, and even your sex appeal!"

Clovis stared at him like he was watching a live scam unfold.

'Did the original Clovis… fall for this scam?'

"No one's falling for—"

"Hey Clovis, do I look cool in this?"

He turned. Oliver had already tied the cape around his shoulders and was posing like a dollar-store superhero.

Clovis blinked. Once. Twice.

Then delivered his verdict:

"Take it off."

"What? Why?"

"You look like a tomato got rejected from drama school. You're not pulling hoes with that."

Oliver groaned and threw the cape back at the vendor, muttering about "no taste."

With that chaos behind them, they reached the main gate.

A tall man with neatly-combed hair and round spectacles stood beside the entryway with a clipboard.

"I'm Professor William. Identification, please."

Clovis handed his ID first.

The professor adjusted his glasses and smiled. "Ah, Clovis Dreadthorn. I expect great things from you this year."

Oliver, next in line, held out his own ID.

"…Alright. You may both enter."

Clovis smirked while Oliver sulked.

"Favoritism," Oliver muttered under his breath.

The reception hall was grand — glistening marble floors, floating chandeliers, and dozens of magical screens showing academy highlights and announcements.

Students of every kind were milling about — nobles, commoners, hybrids, foreigners, and —

Bump.

Clovis collided with someone.

Hard.

A small purse clattered to the ground, scattering its contents — an ID card, a small bunny plushie keychain, a pouch of silver coins, and a pink handkerchief.

"I'm so sorry," the girl stammered, already kneeling to gather her things.

Clovis bent down to help and their fingers touched.

He looked up.

And froze.

She had long green hair, the kind that shimmered between emerald and jade under the light. Her golden eyes were wide and panicked, cheeks flushed bright pink.

Around her neck was a soft-glowing amulet, and the way she hid her face behind her bangs made her look like a bunny ready to flee at any moment.

There was only one girl in the game who matched this.

Marianne Lyselle.

The Shy Heroine.

Marianne was beloved by fans. Not only was she adorably shy and prone to tripping over invisible objects, but she was also secretly one of the strongest healers in the entire game.

If raised correctly, she could save the entire party from destruction — emotionally and literally.

She was the introvert goddess of the fanbase.

Clovis stared.

Marianne stared.

Oliver coughed.

They both jumped.

Clovis cleared his throat and handed her the small bunny plushie.

"T-Thank you," she whispered, barely audible.

She scrambled to gather the rest and clutched her purse tightly.

"Wait," Clovis said, "Can I get your name?"

She hesitated, eyes wide again.

"O-Oh, m-my name is… Marianne Lyselle. It was n-nice to meet you…"

And just like that, she turned around and fled like a scared kitten on roller skates.

Clovis stood there for a moment, then exhaled.

[Trigger a unique interaction with a heroine – Success.]

The system screen appeared briefly in his peripheral vision.

Oliver raised a brow. "You good?"

Clovis grinned.

"Never been better lil bro."