After changing into the well-fitting uniform, Qiu Mian stood in front of the full-length mirror, feeling a touch of daze.
The girl in the reflection had a slender frame, carrying the distinctive pallor of someone long plagued by illness. Yet her features were refined, ink-black hair falling smoothly over her shoulders, and her dark eyes held a faint air of aloof detachment under the morning light.
The tailored dark blazer and knee-length plaid skirt lent her an aura that was somehow both youthful and austere.
“So this is… what ‘I’ look like now?”
She tried curving her lips. The mirror returned the same smile.
The sense of dissonance was still noticeable, but she seemed to be slowly growing accustomed to this body.
“Anyway, first things first—fill my stomach, then head to school and scope out the situation.”
Stepping out of the bedroom, she entered a modestly sized but neatly arranged living room that opened into a small kitchen.
The air carried the warm aroma of toasted bread and fried eggs.
The light linen-haired girl—her “little sister”—stood with her back to Qiu Mian, busily working at the counter. Her entire body was tense. The moment she sensed Qiu Mian’s presence, the hand holding the spatula gave a faint tremble.
Qiu Mian noticed that the girl was also wearing the Holy Iris Academy girls’ uniform, though hers appeared slightly smaller, which only emphasized her softer, fuller figure.
“G-Good morning,” Qiu Mian said, trying to sound as natural as possible while taking a seat at the dining table.
“! G-Good morning! Jie-jie!” The girl startled violently, spinning around so fast she nearly dropped the spatula. The faint blush that had just begun to fade from her cheeks surged back in full force.
In a flurry of nervous movements, she placed an artfully arranged breakfast in front of Qiu Mian: a perfectly golden sunny-side-up egg, toast toasted to just the right degree with slightly crisped edges, a few fresh lettuce leaves and cherry tomatoes, and a glass of warm milk.
“Th-Thank you.” Qiu Mian was quietly surprised by how much care had gone into it.
“N-No need to thank me! It’s… it’s only right!” The girl shook her head rapidly, then—as though suddenly remembering something—added in a tiny voice, “Jie-jie… please enjoy it slowly. I-I’ll go prepare my school things first!”
With that, she scurried away like a startled hamster and slipped into what was presumably her own room, closing the door with a soft click.
Qiu Mian stared at the closed door, then down at the still-steaming breakfast in front of her. The complicated feeling in her chest grew heavier.
So terrified… yet she still remembers ‘my’ preferences?
She knows I like my eggs fully cooked, that I want the toast edges just a little charred… Even if those details were automatically filled in by the world as part of her “setting,” the way she prepared everything so carefully… sigh.
Qiu Mian picked up her fork and began eating in silence.
It tasted good—really good, actually.
But thinking of the girl hiding in her room made the food suddenly feel a little hard to swallow.
What in the world did the original do to her…
While taking small bites of the breakfast her “sister” had so painstakingly prepared, Qiu Mian rapidly sorted through her thoughts in her mind, untangling the mess like a ball of yarn.
The system’s mission is to identify the white-masked killer, or I die. But I don’t even know who she is or why she killed me.
This world is the unfinished novel I wrote. Right now I’m the short-lived, widely hated villain “Qiu Mian.”
The setting has at least four yanderes watching me like hawks. Given the story’s progression, school is almost certainly the main stage.
Aside from this frail, good-for-nothing body, this face, and the “villain” title, I have nothing.
The only possible point of entry is the girl in front of me—who’s terrified of me yet still takes care of me—or whatever pitiful scraps of original plot knowledge I still remember from my own story?
Her fork absently prodded the tender sunny-side-up egg as her mind drifted back to the opening of that novel, barely a few hundred thousand characters long.
I remember… the story kicked off with a super clichéd “hero saves beauty” scene.
On the way to school in the morning, at a quiet corner near the campus, the female lead—the character I originally designed as the “protagonist”—happens to witness “villain Qiu Mian” bullying a timid little sidekick and saying some really nasty things.
The protagonist can’t stand it, steps in to stop her, and that’s how she earns the villain’s enmity. At the same time, she notices the pitiful, trembling little sidekick being bullied…
That little sidekick was originally just a nameless background prop meant to show how awful the villain was—no name, no development, nothing.
Her gaze drifted involuntarily toward the closed door, recalling the small figure in the kitchen who had kept her breathing so light she barely made a sound.
And now the world has retroactively filled her in—turned her into “little sister,” gave her an actual appearance, personality, everything.
What if… what if I can steer this “completed” world to follow—at least roughly—the plot points I originally wrote, even if it’s just the opening?
A bold idea suddenly flared to life.
Since I know nothing about what comes later, instead of bumbling around like a headless fly, why not… actively trigger the “known” plot points? Especially the very first scene!
If the protagonist is supposed to show up at that corner, if she’ll stop “me” from bullying “little sister” just like in the original… then wouldn’t I be able to meet the protagonist?
The character who, in theory, stands on the side of “justice” and—at least in the early stages—is still relatively normal? Maybe I could get some information from her. Or at the very least, find someone who isn’t immediately life-threatening to observe?
And as long as the major beats follow the direction I remember—even just a little—that would basically count as my own personal “cheat,” right?
At least I wouldn’t be completely blind.
Yes! That’s it! Start by recreating the “morning corner bullying incident”!
Decision made, Qiu Mian quickly finished the rest of her breakfast, took a deep breath, and tried to recall the tone and expression the “villain Qiu Mian” in her story ought to have.
She set down her utensils. The soft clink of metal against porcelain drew the stealthy figure out from the other room.
Her little sister silently picked up the now-empty breakfast plate and carried it toward the kitchen.
Qiu Mian paused for a second before standing up. She walked to the kitchen doorway and watched the girl wash the dishes with painstaking care, as though terrified of making even the slightest sound.
The brief spark of excitement from her new “plan” was immediately dampened by a sour, aching feeling.
I have to speak harshly to her… even if it’s just an act.
But she’s already so scared… If I raise my voice even a little, she’ll probably tremble three times over.
Yet when she remembered the glint of the blade on the rooftop, Qiu Mian steeled herself.
No choice. Survive the immediate crisis first.
Later… later I’ll find a way to make it up to her.
Sorry… I’m really sorry…
Qiu Mian gave herself a little mental pep talk.
Then she cleared her throat and forced her voice to carry an impatient, condescending edge.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t truly a mean person at heart, so the “nasty” tone came out somewhat awkward and forced.
“Hey, you.” She spoke toward the girl’s back.
The girl froze instantly, as though someone had hit pause. Very slowly, she turned around. Her eyes were wide with panic, fingers unconsciously twisting the edge of her apron.
“…J-Jie-jie?”
“Stop dawdling.”
Qiu Mian deliberately looked away, afraid she would soften. “Clean up and come with me.”
“C-Come with you?”