"Ethan Carlien," announced the next student.
I noticed the way he'd been glaring at me throughout the introductions, as if trying to bore holes through my skull with pure malice.
Great. Another enemy I can't defend myself against. The list was getting impressively long, and I wasn't even strong enough to handle a particularly aggressive butterfly, let alone the growing collection of people who wanted me dead.
The arithmetic was simple and depressing: enemies multiplying, personal power remaining at absolute zero.
"Arton Urien," another student continued, but my mind had already wandered to more pressing concerns.
Survival strategies. I needed to think tactically about this.
Option one: Befriend the protagonist.
I almost laughed at the absurdity. The protagonist would inevitably meet the heroines, most of whom would cheerfully trade vital organs for the chance to end me. Plus, there was always the risk of someone revealing my past. The protagonist, being the righteous type, might decide that killing me was his moral duty.
Option dismissed.
Option two: Ally with future side characters.
These characters would eventually become major assets, growing into positions of real power. If I could befriend them early, they might provide protection later. But even the strongest allies wouldn't be enough when the heroines finally made their move. Politics and personal vendettas rarely mixed well.
Also dismissed.
Option three: Get close to the villainesses.
The thought made me pause, and not in a good way.
"Rizel?" I muttered, feeling my eyebrow twitch involuntarily.
If she became curious about me—and given her particular condition, that was more than likely—I'd be in a worse position than before. She was already more powerful than me, and as a future villainess, she'd only grow stronger. If her curiosity evolved into obsession...
I'd end up chained somewhere, which would be both humiliating and counterproductive to my long-term survival goals.
Definitely off the list.
"Liliana?" The thought was immediately followed by a mental facepalm.
Her bloodline ability could turn people into love slaves. If I became her puppet, I'd lose myself entirely, becoming nothing more than a decorative accessory to her schemes. And if she ever developed feelings for me, or became obsessed...
Goodbye, sanity. Hello, emotional manipulation on a scale that would make dictators jealous.
Also off the list.
"Scarlet?"
The more I considered it, the more hopeless everything seemed. Scarlet was completely devoted to Michael—the novel had made that abundantly clear. Changing her feelings would be like trying to redirect a river with a teaspoon.
Futile and likely to result in drowning.
"Well, there are others... Maybe Selena?"
I let my gaze sweep across the massive room, looking for familiar faces among the crowd. The place was enormous, filled with what felt like hundreds of students. Finding anyone specific seemed almost impossible.
That's when I noticed something unsettling.
A girl was staring at me with undisguised interest, her lips curved into a smile that made my survival instincts start screaming. Worse, she wasn't the only one. Several other girls had been sneaking glances at me throughout the introductions, some even flirting from across the room.
What the hell is happening? I thought, genuinely confused. Am I actually considered attractive?
The idea seemed absurd. I'd never paid attention to how others perceived me physically—survival had always taken precedence over vanity. But the evidence was becoming difficult to ignore.
Still, none of that explained Selena.
Selena—future villainess, cause of countless deaths, and currently staring at me like she recognized me from somewhere.
The moment our eyes met, she quickly looked away. But seconds later, she was staring again, caught in some kind of compulsive cycle of observation and embarrassment.
"Something is definitely wrong here," I muttered.
Could I have met her before? I searched my memory, but found nothing. The past three years had been consumed entirely by my search for someone else. There was no recollection of encountering anyone like Selena.
So why did she look at me with such disturbing familiarity?
And more importantly, was this going to be another name added to my rapidly expanding list of problems, or might it actually represent something resembling an opportunity?
Given my luck, probably the former. But a man could hope.