The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 30: Butterfly Effect [2]

Leon Harper... or should I say, Leona Harper?

The person standing in front of me—arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed, eyes sharp as ever—wasn't just anyone.

It was her.

Leona Harper.

Disguised as a boy, going by the name Leon, just like in the novel. She was hiding her true identity, cross-dressing to stay under the radar—for reasons only she and the author of World's Greatest Hero really knew.

...But seriously? Of all people in the academy, she ended up as my roommate?

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

I did not see that coming.

Sure, I interfered with the opening ceremony. No one died in the terrorist attack—not like in the original story. That alone probably caused half a dozen narrative aftershocks.

Still, even with all that considered, shouldn't she have ended up with Ryen, the main protagonist, like in the original timeline?

...Oh.

Wait.

Now that I think about it, wasn't the original Rin—the Rin—supposed to be her roommate in the first place?

In the novel, Rin died in the prologue. That's what triggered the housing reshuffle, and that's how Leona ended up sharing a room with Ryen.

But I didn't die.

I survived.

Which means the original arrangement stayed intact.

So now, here I was... sharing a room with Leona Harper. A heroine in hiding. Someone who didn't know that I knew her secret.

This was going to be... complicated.

She stepped aside, giving me that familiar, piercing look as I walked into the room.

I couldn't help but glance at her again.

Short hair, cropped just enough to pass as a boy. A sharp, serious aura that made her feel taller than she was.

And yet...

There were small tells.

Delicate fingers.

A certain grace in her posture.

Softness in her features if you looked closely enough.

She was just like how she was written.

The door clicked shut behind me. The dorm room was surprisingly decent. Two beds—one on the floor and the other up top with a small staircase—two desks, a shared wardrobe, and a wide window letting in the golden afternoon light.

It almost felt normal.

Almost.

"You got a problem?" she asked, catching me looking her way again.

"Ah—no. Just tired," I said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced.

"Right. Bottom bed's yours. I'm taking the top one."

I followed her gesture.

The beds were stacked like bunk beds, with a small set of stairs leading to the top.

No complaints from me. I didn't need much—just somewhere to crash.

Still, man... she was as bossy as I expected.

I nodded and dropped my bag beside the lower bed.

As I sat down, the weight of the situation finally settled in.

My roommate was Leona Harper. One of the core characters of the story. A soon-to-be hero. A girl hiding her identity in a school full of secrets.

And we were going to be living together. Every day.

This was going to be tricky. One slip-up, one wrong word, and she might realize I knew too much.

"...You're real quiet," she said suddenly, pausing while unpacking. "That normal for you?"

I forced a light smile. "Just processing. It's been a long day."

She grunted in agreement. "Fair enough."

Then, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, she added, "Don't touch my stuff. And if I catch you snooping... I'll break your hands."

Yup. Classic Leona.

"Noted," I said, chuckling nervously. "I happen to like my hands exactly where they are."

She shot me a glance. A flicker of suspicion in her eyes.

But then she turned away.

"Good."

I let out a slow breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

This was going to be a long semester.

---

"Ugh... come on, you can do this!"

Right after unpacking my stuff, I bolted out of the dorm.

Not because of Leona, of course. Definitely not because she was a girl in disguise.

I mean, sure, she probably had some stuff she wanted to sort out in private—personal things. Clothes. Secrets. The usual.

So I figured I'd give her space. I was being considerate. Helpful. Unlike a certain dense protagonist from the novel.

Ryen.

That guy tried dragging Leon to the gym for some "friendly training."

Let's just say... it didn't go well.

One minute, he's nudging Leon's shoulder. The next, she's swinging a training sword at his neck with the speed of a professional assassin.

Thank god he had protagonist armor.

Me? I didn't have that luxury. I liked my neck attached to my shoulders, thank you very much.

Leona was known for being secretive and not exactly friendly. I wasn't about to test those limits.

She was "Never a True Heroine" the readers called it—a trope where someone with potential to be heroine in novel dies before they can shine.

It was surreal, honestly. To be meeting one of the "Never a True Heroine" victims in such a random, ordinary moment.

But anyway.

That wasn't the only reason I was out here.

"Ugggghhhh!!"

Why the groaning? Because I was currently doing something borderline masochistic.

Something almost mystical in its power.

Yes.

I was working out.

It's practically a law of transmigration. You wake up in a new world? You hit the gym. No questions asked.

After climbing a literal mountain to escape death, I figured a workout was the logical next step.

My body, frail as it was, felt like it was about to collapse under the sheer might of...

...1 kilogram.

Yep. Two dumbbells. Half a kilo each.

And yet, I was enduring. With the patience and grit of a man holding up the sky.

Manifesting Greatness

"One hundred thousand and sixteen...!"

Yeah, that was just for flair. I was actually on rep sixteen.

"One hundred thousand and seventeen...!"

Still, fake it 'til you make it, right?

Because if I wanted to survive in this world—and the chaos that was definitely coming—I needed more than just plot knowledge.

I needed strength.

And it all started with one... very... light... dumbbell curl at a time.

...It was honestly pathetic if anyone saw me.

Luckily, the gym was empty. Most cadets hadn't arrived at Velcrest Academy yet, so I could embarrass myself in peace.

But you know what was even more pathetic?

This body.

A normal cadet here starts with thirty-kilo dumbbells in each hand—like it's nothing.

Me? I was struggling to hold this 1kg dumbbell like it was Excalibur.

At first, I went with a solid 2kg.

Big mistake.

After a few reps, my arms screamed at me like I'd just betrayed them, and I had no choice but to listen.

But hey... I wasn't just some ordinary weakling.

I was a transmigrator.

And I had my ways.

Enhancement.

That was the best part about my talent—it didn't discriminate.

It didn't care if my body was trash.

About half of my primal Qi—now significantly larger than average thanks to some recovery—was consumed in one go. And in exchange, I felt it. That warm sensation. My body quietly shifting gears.

I took a deep breath. "Huff..."

This time, I'd enhanced my recovery rate—specifically the regeneration of torn muscle fibers.

Which meant... every pathetic little rep I managed would now give back twice the gains. My muscles would recover and grow faster the more I pushed them to their limit.

It was the perfect grind.

I'd be training my body, my talent, and my trait all at the same time.

Slow and steady?

Screw that. I was going for efficient and clever.