A Background Character’s Path to Power

"Ding-!"

"Ding-!"

'Hmm...?'

I rubbed my eyes at the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling.

The soft hum of people's chatter filled the air, layered with the occasional scrape of chairs against the floor. A mild scent of paper and ink lingered around me, mixing with the faint breeze coming from an open window on my left side.

I blinked, letting my gaze wander of my surroundings. Rows of desks, students in black uniform, and a large blackboard at the front.

This is… a classroom?

The realization settled in quickly.

I was seated at a back row desk, my hands resting on an open notebook filled with neat but unfamiliar handwriting. My fingers twitched slightly as I tried to recall how I got here.

Nothing came to mind.

I frowned.

Okay, let's take this step by step. First, I confirmed I was in a school.

Now, what else? I glanced down at my uniform—neatly pressed, formal, a design I didn't recognize but fitting in with the students around me.

Wait a sec...

I seem to have forgotten most important thing...

Who was I again?

"..."

What is my name?

"..."

A sharp chill crawled down my spine.

No name surfaced, no past, no identity.

It was as if my mind had been wiped clean, leaving behind only...

Hmm...

I narrowed my eyes.

There was some things.

Not about myself, but about… story tropes? Clichés?

Webnovels, games, stories.

My head felt like an archive of fictional settings and their overused patterns. I could recall them in absurd details, but nothing about who I actually was.

Was this amnesia? Reincarnation? Transmigration? A dream? 

"Eeek-!"

Before I could dig deeper, the classroom door slid open with a smooth click.

A woman stepped inside, radiating authority resembling a strict character. Dressed in a professional attire, her gaze scanned the room and us as she strode toward the front. She must be our teacher, probably.

But it wasn't her that caught my attention.

A girl followed behind her.

She was beautiful—long golden hair cascading in soft waves, bright blue eyes carrying an innocence that made her stand out. The moment she stepped into the room, a strange sensation crept over me, like a script unfolding right before my eyes.

Something about this felt… familiar. 

....

I hope it's not what I think it is.

Maybe I raised a red flag, a subtle chime echoed in my head.

[Event Triggered: 'Fated Encounter – The New Transfer Student.']

Eh?

I mumbled, my eyes widening.

A glowing blue window popped into existence right above my desk.

I almost flinched—but held back, because obviously, hallucinating on my first day at a mysterious school wouldn't be the best look.

But a system? A system?

The text on the screen glowed softly, crisp and readable, like the thousands I'd 'seen' in stories before. My pulse quickened, the absurdity of the situation clashing against the undeniable familiarity of it all.

This was an event.

A cliché one, at that. If not the most in the current setting.

The elegant, seemingly perfect transfer student, in our case.

Usually, the moment a heroine arrives, the gears of the story begins to turn. Whether it's romance, rivalry, or an eventual disaster, this type of event usually marks the start of a protagonist's journey.

But why am I seeing this?

I'm not the protagonist, right?

The teacher's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Class, we have a new student joining us today. Please introduce yourself."

The blonde girl stepped forward, offering a graceful smile. "My name is Emilia von Aveline. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

The class responded with murmurs of admiration and curiosity.

I, however, was busy staring at the floating system window in front of me.

My brain rapidly pieced things together. I was an unknown individual in an unfamiliar school, armed only with extensive knowledge of fiction. Now, a system was throwing events at me straight out of a chessy novel's plot.

Most importantly, I hope I'm not the protagonist.

I can't stand all these cringe stuff.

━━━◇◆◇━━━

[Event - "Fated Encounter – The New Transfer Student."]

The fated meeting between two individuals bound by past connections has begun. The gears of fate begin turning as their intertwined history resurfaces.

━━━◇◆◇━━━

What?

You aren't helping me, at all. Just say you aren't the protagonist instead of such nonsense lines, I complained to the system.

I'm not, right? Right?

Just as I was internally screaming about my potential protagonist status, the answer to my silent plea arrived.

The transfer student, Emilia von Aveline, 'gracefully' swept her gaze across the classroom, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. But I already know what she is doing.

As if confirming my guess, she suddenly stopped.

Her expression flickered—shock, recognition, hesitation—all packed into a single breath. Her lips parted slightly.

I tensed.

No.

Please!

No, no, no—

Her hand lifted.

"You!"

Yes! It is not me!

It is the boy sitting right next to me.

While I was bathing in joy, the entire class froze, the murmurs died down. Their first interaction had already begun.

I let out a slow, measured breath, fighting the urge to sag in relief.

I wasn't the protagonist.

Thank—

━━━◇◆◇━━━

[Scenario - "A Reunion Written in the Stars!"]

"Two paths, once intertwined, cross once more. But time changes all things. How will this meeting unfold?"

Objective: React appropriately to the unfolding event.

Failure penalty: Full memory erasure.

Rewards: ??? (Determined by the course of events.)

━━━◇◆◇━━━

"...Hah?"

My fingers twitched as a new system message appeared, its words cutting through my temporary relief.

Why are we already adding the childhood friend trope? Aren't we making it more cringe? 

I nearly ran my fingers through my hair, my thoughts racing.

And react appropriately? What does that exactly mean? Is it asking me to participate in this?

If I wasn't the protagonist, why—why was I still getting a participation notice?!

I squinted at the screen.

What kind of nonsense was this?

Putting my thoughts aside, how was I even supposed to participate?

Then, I looked at the warning.

Full memory erasure.

Strangely, cold chill settled over me.

That... sounded ominous.

Because, this wasn't just some minor punishment—this was serious. If I lost even these fragmented memories, I would be left with nothing. No sense of self, no knowledge of tropes, no understanding of what the hell was happening.

Nothing.

Then...

Wouldn't I be doomed to 'die'?

Urgh...

...That meant one thing.

I had to participate.

But how?

...

I shifted my attention to the so-called protagonist.