An Acting Fool

Quill couldn't decide whether to shake his head in disbelief or confusion as he discovered his class assignment.

The academy didn't sort classes by rank or background; instead, they randomly mixed students from each rank section.

Coincidentally, most of the main cast from the novel ended up in the same class: 1-C.

Even more coincidentally, Quill himself was sorted into that class.

'This doesn't make any sense.' 

He was sure there wasn't a Nocturne in the protagonist's class.

'So how? Had the story simply been rewritten because of me being here?... No, the classes should have been decided long before I awakened in Quill's body.'

His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the puzzle. 'Maybe I just didn't pay much attention, and Quill was mentioned only briefly... that seems likely.'

'Or maybe a Quill Nocturne did exist, but he never interacted with the protagonist.'

Quill rubbed his forehead as he sat at his designated desk, feeling the weight of confusion. "I don't get it. Why am I here?" he muttered under his breath.

This uncertainty only strengthened his resolve not to follow the novel's story strictly.

He wasn't the protagonist.

As a character seemingly without a story, he had to create his own.

Easier said than done.

Sure, he knew a lot about hidden artifacts, locations, and plot-driven events, but stealing these opportunities from their intended characters would invite nothing but danger.

Deciding to give his overworked brain a break, he glanced around the classroom.

The first students were already present.

Not taking any risks, Quill had arrived early, being the very first in the room.

Familiar faces began to fill the space—characters from the novel come to life.

Violeta Sol sat on the right side of the class, her red hair accented by a golden bow tying it into a ponytail.

Quill couldn't help but smile.

'She looks just like her description. Incredible.'

He quickly wiped the smile off his face, hoping nobody had noticed.

From his own experience, a single smile toward the opposite gender could spark a sea of rumors—attention he did not need.

Looking around, he saw another character with wavy golden hair: Ophelia Sunshower.

Similar to the Nocturne family, the Sunshower family was prestigious.

Ophelia was their beacon when it came to the talented new generation.

'Ophelia Sunshower. She's as graceful as ever,' Quill chuckled, marveling at how vividly she matched her description too.

Seeing a character he had only imagined now existing before his eyes stirred a mixture of excitement and nervousness in him.

Although these real-life versions of the characters differed slightly from his imagination, they were still strikingly familiar.

Behind him sat Luca Ivanov.

At least, that's who Quill concluded it was, based on the young man's stern look.

Luca wasn't really the protagonist's rival—that was someone else—but they grew quite close during the novel despite their initial bickering.

Luca's eyes suddenly looked over to Quill, making him instantly avert his gaze and turn around.

'Damn his high senses.'

He couldn't afford to draw Luca's attention.

If his memory wasn't playing tricks on him, these were all members of the main cast in this class, excluding the protagonist who, of course, was going to be late.

Now that he thought about it, there were many clichés in the novel... but honestly, He liked it.

These familiar tropes brought a sense of comfort in an otherwise unpredictable world.

/||\

Some time passed, and the seats filled. All but one.

The door opened, and a young gentleman entered, dressed neatly.

In contrast to the students who had to wear the black and reddish academy uniform, professors were free to choose their attire.

But that wouldn't matter much for this man since he always wore elegant outfits.

"I welcome you, dear future hunters and huntresses," he began, adjusting his gray glasses.

His hair was neatly gelled back, and though his gray hair suggested advanced age, it was simply dyed. "My name is Atticus Mendoza, and I will be your professor for this year. I hope to have the ability to create future legends."

Quill watched as Professor Mendoza scanned the room, his eyes lingering on the empty desk. "It seems lik—" but before he could finish the sentence, the door slammed open.

A student stepped inside, panting and sweating. His dark brown hair was tousled, and his purple eyes added to his striking appearance.

'Emrys Caster... Dammit, he is more handsome ...than I am, or rather more than Quill... wait, no, we share the same face... Ah this is too complicated!' Quill sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration.

Despite the triviality, it still irked him.

Quill thought his combination of red and dark hair beat Emrys's purple and brown, but no.

He was wrong.

Very wrong.

"I am terribly sorry for being late! I lost my way and ended up confused," Emrys apologized, looking genuinely flustered.

'Well, I can't blame him. If I hadn't paid attention to where people were running off to, I would have been late too.' 

"That's fine, Mr. Caster, but now that you know the way, please try to be early," Professor Mendoza said, his tone firm yet kind.

Despite Mr. Mendoza's authoritative appearance, he was lean and approachable.

He was a great mentor and would help his students even if it wasn't within responsibility. Sadly, that very kindness was ultimately leading to his death.

Emrys nodded, walking towards the empty desk just behind Quill's.

Quill could feel his presence—the character whose journey he had followed so closely was now walking next to him, completely oblivious to the fact that Quill knew him better than anyone in this entire world.

"Alright, alright, dear students," Professor Mendoza began, regaining the attention of the class. "Today we're going to do a little summary about the purpose of Hunters and their needs. Can someone tell me who the enemies of ours are?"

'The Reapers.'

"Ms. Sunshower, please," the professor said, picking one of the many raised hands.

"The hunters' enemies, no, better said humanity's enemies, are the Reapers," Ophelia answered confidently.

"Correct, Ms. Sunshower. Now, would anyone tell me why that is so?" Professor Mendoza continued.

Again, hands rose. "Yes, please, Mr. Sieben," the professor addressed a chubby fellow sitting on the left side.

He had freckles and wore orange glasses matching his orange hair. If Quill remembered correctly, he was simply a background character.

"The Reapers are dangerous creatures. They feed on souls, making them our natural enemy!" Mr. Sieben almost shouted, his enthusiasm clear.

"That is correct, Mr. Sieben. Reapers are indeed perilous beings. They don't just kill; they consume the very essence of their victims, leaving nothing but empty shells behind. This makes them a threat not just to individuals, but to the very fabric of our society," Professor Mendoza elaborated, his voice taking on a grave tone.

The professor paced the front of the classroom, his expression serious. "This is why, to protect humanity—or rather, all races—we train and fight these hideous creatures. Their existence threatens every living being, and it is our duty to stand against them."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "To do so, we will focus on your fighting styles and combat skills in the next few classes. Mastery of these skills is essential for your survival and success as Hunters."

Excitement showed on some students' faces, while others grew more nervous or remained indifferent.

Quill could feel a mix of emotions in the room, reflecting his own. 

'My parents did put me through a good regime of self-defense classes. I'm also adept at fencing... but I guess that's nothing compared to what these students are used to.'

One had to pass certain qualifications to enter Sentinel in the first place.

Qualifications that he theoretically never went through. But it also meant that the character Quill Nocturne was able to pass them.

'Maybe he isn't a good-for-nothing after all.' 

"That way I will also be able to see your strengths and weaknesses," Professor Mendoza continued, scanning the class once again. "I know I have prominent students in my class, so I hope to see grandiose talent."

With that, the lesson continued. Quill kept a low profile, not participating in the class despite knowing all the answers.

"Alright, dear students. We will stop today's class earlier since the professors have a meeting to attend. Please prepare yourselves for tomorrow's sparring. You are allowed to bring any weapon that you deem necessary for use in your combat style."

With that, Professor Mendoza left the room.

Quill took a moment to process the information.

'So, I can bring the gauntlet.'

He would have done so anyway since it wasn't noticeable at all under his uniform because it was so thin.

Heck, he was wearing it right now. Emergencies could happen anytime and—

"Wooooow!" A sudden pair of brown eyes appeared directly in front of him, making Quill flinch.

"What the—" Quill started, startled by the sudden invasion of his personal space.

'What's up with people and their need to get in my face, dammit!'

"Your eyes! You're a Nocturne, right? Right?" The young man's excitement was almost palpable as he leaned in closer.

It didn't take Quill long to recognize the annoying person in front of him.

His light blue hair styled in an undercut easily indicated that this was Silas Edel, a side character and the comic relief of the story.

"Yeah, I am, but could you please back off a bit?" Quill replied, trying to maintain his composure.

"Oh, sure, my bad," Silas said, stepping back with an apologetic grin. "Name's Silas, by the way."

"Quill," he replied simply. Silas' eyes suddenly grew wide upon hearing his name.

"Quill... Quill. Q-u-i-l..." Silas spelled out, his face lighting up with realization.

'...What is he doing?' Quill wondered, feeling annoyed.

"AH, I REMEMBER! You're that infamous jerk from the Nocturne family!" Silas exclaimed, his voice carrying through the room.

'Infamous jerk? Great...'

"Aw, sorry, didn't mean to shout that out loud," Silas added, looking genuinely apologetic.

'Too late, idiot,' Quill thought, noticing the glances now directed at him. 'So much for keeping a low profile.'

"You've been really quiet the whole time. I thought you'd be the type to love disturbing classes. No respect for authority and all that," Silas continued, his eyes wide with admiration.

'So there are rumors about me—Quill—circulating around? Wonderful...'

"Could you please quiet down?" Quill said, trying to play along. "I want to turn over a new leaf. It's time to change my ways."

'Please just buy it and leave.'

Hearing that, Silas' eyes grew even wider. "Dude, that is so inspiring! You're my new hero!"

'I don't like the direction this is going...'

"Uh, thanks. I, uh, have to go eat," Quill said, attempting to escape the conversation.

"Oh, I'm hungry too. Let's go together!" Silas said enthusiastically, grabbing Quill by the arm and dragging him to the dorms' cafeteria.

/||\

Apparently, they lived in the same dorm, meaning Silas was ranked somewhere near Quill.

In all seriousness, Quill could have distanced himself from the extroverted student. But he didn't, for two reasons.

First, knowing Silas's character, he would have made a big show out of it, complete with dramatic scenes and fake tears, drawing more attention than Quill needed.

The second reason was simpler: Quill was hungry. He hadn't eaten since waking up in this world, and his stomach was starting to protest loudly.

"Mampf, mampf."

'I hate you.'

They were currently seated next to each other in the bustling cafeteria of the Defender dorms.

The room buzzed with the sounds of clinking cutlery, murmured conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter.

"Mampf Mampf."

Quill glared at Silas, who obliviously continued to devour his sandwich, smacking his lips with every bite.

The noise was excruciating to Quill, who had been taught proper manners, especially in public.

This display was intolerable.

'Focus. Ignore it.'

The cafeteria had a pleasant, mildly busy atmosphere.

Quill had opted for a simple meal of rice with chicken. The academy provided three meals for free; anything extra had to be paid for by the students. Their scrolls functioned as credit cards, with money transferred by their families or themselves before the start of the academy.

Speaking of which, Quill realized he hadn't checked how much money he had.

He had simply assumed that, as a Nocturne, he would be wealthy by default.

But given everything else that had surprised him so far, he realized he should stop being so naive.

Seeing Quill's disgusted face, Silas spoke through a mouthful of food. "What's on your mind?"

"..."

"I'll tell you, just please finish chewing first," Quill said, his frustration evident. Basic manners weren't that hard.

"Sorry, my bad," Silas replied, swallowing his food.

One thing lingered in Quill's mind...

'Infamous jerk of the Nocturne, huh...'

It seemed Quill was known by his peers, just not in the way he had hoped.

"Hey, Silas, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead! Is it about a girl? Did someone catch your eye already?" Silas asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Quill's brows furrowed. "What? No."

His brain was preoccupied with more pressing matters. He was still coming to terms with his new reality.

But Silas's comment triggered another thought...

The heroines he admired in novels—characters he daydreamed of befriending or even falling for—were now real, with characteristics, appearances, and abilities far beyond his imagination.

Quill shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

'Focus.'

There were more important issues at hand.

"I was just curious... What's my reputation like?" Quill asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

It was a risky question. Logically, Quill should know his own reputation.

"Pfff... not great, to be honest. You've got a reputation for harassing girls at noble meetups and dances, and that's one of the milder rumors."

'...That's troubling.'

Quill's eyebrows knitted together. Why did Silas approach him if these sorts of rumors existed?

He remembered Silas as the comedic relief in the novel, but Quill knew Silas was more calculating than his behavior suggested.

"Mampf Mampf."

...Maybe 'calculating' was giving him too much credit. But he certainly wasn't as foolish as he appeared.

"If you know about those rumors and my reputation, why are you so eager to talk and eat with me?" Quill asked, deciding that directness was the best approach. No room for misunderstandings.

"I don't believe rumors until I see proof with my own eyes," Silas replied, his friendly demeanor unwavering.

Silas was a very friendly character in the novel, ...unless he witnessed any brutality against females, which triggered his darker side—making him violently protective.

'Oh...'

Now it made sense why he wanted to talk to Quill.

In the novel, Silas's backstory was tragic. He came from a violent household.

Silas himself wasn't a victim, but his mother was.

This fueled his hatred for his father and guilt towards himself.

A story one wouldn't guess from his usual demeanor.

It was... impressive.

'So is he simply testing me? Keeping an eye on me?' Quill wondered. 'But why? He wasn't a vigilante. Why was he so focused on me—no, on Quill? ...Did this idiot Quill do something to anyone he knows?'

"Hey Quill, why the serious face? You look like my dad when he's mad," Silas said, breaking Quill's train of thought.

Knowing Silas's background, this comparison was more intimidating than it sounded.

'Comparing me to his father... Those rumors are more than just rumors, aren't they? Damn it, Quill. What kind of person were you?'

"But hearing you say you want to turn over a new leaf, it almost inspired me to change too!"

"I mean it," Quill said, meeting Silas's eyes, which softened into a smile.

He didn't need an enemy right away. Quill was sure he already had enough of those just by being a Nocturne. Maybe he could even make an ally out of Silas.

"Sounds great, pal!

"Mampf Mampf."

'...Or maybe I'd rather pass on that,' Quill sighed, as Silas continued to eat noisily.