The girls continued walking toward me.

There were five of them.

Even before Adrian’s memories finished sorting themselves out, I could already tell they weren’t people I wanted to provoke.

Their uniforms were immaculate. Their jewelry looked expensive. The confidence in their movements made it obvious they were accustomed to getting whatever they wanted. Sinners Academy wasn’t a normal school. Most of the students came from wealthy and influential families, and many of them had spent their entire lives surrounded by people who never told them no.

"Look who’s awake."

The girl leading the group smiled.

The smile wasn’t friendly.

"We were wondering if you’d try to skip today."

More memories surfaced.

Bianca Hartwell.

She was a third-year student.

And the daughter of a powerful business family.

Someone Adrian had learned to fear.

In her hands was a neatly folded uniform.

The moment I saw it, my stomach sank.

A translucent screen appeared before my eyes.

______

[Story Event Detected]

The Broken Doll

Synchronization Required

______

Before I could process what that meant, another window appeared.

______

[Choose Dialogue]

[1] "Please stop doing this."

[2] "Why are you always targeting me?"

[3] Remain Silent

______

A countdown appeared beside the choices.

10

9

8

I stared at the options.

Then at Bianca.

Then back at the screen.

This was insane.

The game was literally giving me dialogue choices.

The timer continued dropping.

7

6

5

I selected the first option.

"Please stop doing this."

The words left my mouth almost automatically.

The girls immediately laughed.

Bianca covered her mouth, pretending to be amused.

"See? That’s exactly why you’re fun."

A notification briefly appeared.

______

[Synchronization Successful]

______

The message vanished almost immediately.

Bianca stepped forward and held out the uniform.

"You know what to do."

I looked at the folded clothes.

Then I looked at her.

A second choice window appeared.

______

[Decision Required]

[1] Accept

[2] Refuse

[3] Attempt Escape

______

My eyes twitched.

Accepting felt humiliating.

Running felt stupid.

Refusing felt reasonable.

So naturally, I chose to refuse.

"No."

The laughter stopped.

The atmosphere in the classroom instantly changed.

Bianca stared at me.

For a brief moment, genuine surprise appeared on her face.

Then it disappeared.

"What did you say?"

I took a step back.

"I said no."

The slap came without warning.

Crack.

My head snapped to the side.

Pain exploded across my cheek.

For a moment, the entire classroom became silent.

I slowly raised a hand to my face.

The skin felt hot.

When I looked at my reflection in the nearby window, a bright red handprint was already visible against my pale skin.

Bianca grabbed the front of my uniform before I could react.

The strength behind the movement surprised me.

She shoved me backward against a desk.

The impact rattled through my body.

"Do exactly what I’m telling you."

Her voice had become cold.

Gone was the playful attitude from earlier.

"You seem to have forgotten your place."

The pressure around my throat suddenly tightened.

I froze.

Bianca’s hand had closed around my neck.

Not enough to seriously injure me.

More than enough to make her point.

My heartbeat accelerated.

For the first time since waking up in this world, the reality of my situation truly sank in.

These girls weren’t simply spoiled.

They weren’t harmless bullies.

They were people who had spent their entire lives getting away with whatever they wanted.

Bianca stared directly into my eyes.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded immediately.

The pressure disappeared.

She released me as if nothing had happened.

A system notification appeared.

______

[Warning]

Story Deviation Detected

Result: Escalation

Survival Probability Reduced

______

Wonderful.

Apparently common sense was the wrong answer.

I rubbed my sore throat while staring at the message.

Hell Mode, my ass.

This wasn’t Hell Mode.

This was a tutorial explaining exactly how screwed I was.

For a few moments, I remained standing in the empty classroom, rubbing my throat and trying to calm myself down. The burning sensation on my cheek hadn’t faded either. Every time I touched the spot where Bianca had slapped me, a sharp sting shot through my face.

The girls had already left. Their laughter still echoed faintly in my mind.

I looked down at the folded uniform in my hands and sighed.

My first day in this world had barely begun, and I was already being treated like a toy.

As I stepped into the hallway, a voice suddenly called out to me.

"Adrian."

I turned toward the source.

A boy with short brown hair was sitting on a windowsill nearby. The moment our eyes met, he pushed himself upright and walked over.

Adrian’s memories immediately supplied a name.

Ryan Carter.

One of the five other male students.

"You look terrible," Ryan said.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome."

Despite his words, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal tube.

"Use this."

I glanced at it.

"What is it?"

"Ointment."

Ryan pointed toward my face.

"The mark on your cheek. Bianca hit you pretty hard."

My hand instinctively moved toward the burning spot.

The red mark was probably still visible.

I accepted the tube and applied a small amount.

The moment it touched my skin, a painful stinging sensation spread across my cheek.

I immediately regretted everything.

Ryan laughed.

"I told you it would sting."

"You could have warned me better."

"I literally did."

Unfortunately, he had a point.

After a few moments, the pain began fading.

The medicine actually worked.

I handed the tube back.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Ryan pocketed it before glancing toward the uniform in my hands.

His expression immediately became sympathetic.

"That’s unfortunate."

"I have a feeling I do not want to know what you mean."

"You probably don’t."

That wasn’t reassuring.

I looked around the hallway.

"By the way, where is the dressing room?"

Ryan stared at me.

Then he tilted his head.

Then he started laughing.

Not a polite laugh.

A genuine one.

I frowned.

"What?"

Ryan wiped a tear from his eye.

"Did you lose your memory after getting slapped this early in the morning?"

For a second, I almost answered honestly.

Technically, I had gained memories rather than lost them.

Instead, I shook my head.

"Just show me."

Ryan chuckled again before turning around.

"Fine. Follow me."

The two of us walked through several hallways. Along the way, I noticed how luxurious the academy looked. Everything seemed expensive. The floors were spotless, the decorations were elegant, and every corner of the campus looked like it belonged in a wealthy private institution.

Eventually, Ryan stopped in front of a small door near the back of an older section of the building.

"There."

I stared at it.

"This?"

"Yes."

"It looks like a storage room."

Ryan shrugged.

"It used to be."

My bad feeling immediately returned.

When he opened the door, I discovered that my assumption had been completely correct.

The room had clearly been converted from a storage area.

A few lockers had been installed against one wall. A wooden bench occupied the center. The lighting wasn’t particularly good, and the room itself felt cramped.

Compared to the luxurious facilities I had seen elsewhere in the academy, the difference was embarrassing.

"This is the boys’ dressing room?" I asked.

"There are only six of us," Ryan replied. "The academy isn’t exactly eager to spend money on us."

That sounded about right.

Inside the room, four other boys were already present.

The moment I entered, several pairs of eyes landed on the folded uniform in my hands.

A blond-haired boy immediately grinned.

"Please tell me that’s what I think it is."

His name was Ethan Brooks.

Another one of the six male students.

I looked at him.

Then at the uniform.

Then back at him.

"I have a feeling I am about to regret checking."

"You definitely are."

The others started paying attention.

Slowly, I unfolded the uniform.

The room became silent.

Then everyone burst out laughing.

I looked down.

A pair of cat ears stared back at me.

There was also a tail.

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

A catboy outfit.

What else could it possibly have been?

Ethan nearly fell off the bench laughing.

"You got the cat uniform!"

A taller boy named Marcus Reed pointed toward himself.

"You should be grateful. Yesterday they put me in a turtle costume."

I opened my eyes.

"A turtle costume?"

"A giant turtle costume."

The room exploded into laughter again.

Marcus looked genuinely offended.

"It wasn’t funny."

"It was hilarious," another boy replied.

That speaker was Daniel Foster, a quiet-looking student who seemed much calmer than the others.

Marcus pointed at him.

"You took pictures."

"Because nobody would have believed me otherwise."

"You promised to delete them."

"I considered it."

"You are a terrible friend."

Ryan was laughing so hard he nearly dropped onto the bench.

Watching them interact felt strange.

The memories I inherited had painted the male students as fellow victims, but seeing them joke around like this made them feel much more human.

For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt slightly less alone.

Eventually, Ethan glanced around the room.

"Wait."

The laughter died down.

"Where’s Noah?"

The room became noticeably quieter.

Noah Walker.

The last male student.

More importantly, the protagonist of Sinners Academy.

The person around whom the original story revolved.

Daniel shrugged.

"Hospital."

Ethan blinked.

"Still?"

"His grandmother is there."

"Oh."

That seemed to explain everything.

I remained silent.

In the original game, Noah’s introduction happened much earlier. If he wasn’t here, then something had already changed.

As if responding to my thoughts, a notification appeared in the corner of my vision.

______

[Story Variation Detected]

Original Scenario Incomplete

Monitoring Changes...

______

The message vanished a moment later.

The others continued talking.

Nobody noticed the notification except me.

I stared at the empty space where it had appeared.

The story had already started drifting away from the version I remembered.

Considering my survival probability was still less than one percent, I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a very bad one.