Lemuel slipped into a quiet corner of the academy building, far from the crowds, hidden even from the most curious stares or mana sensors. A strange giggle escaped him—nasal, unhinged, completely unfit for the imposing vilin persona he had just dispyed.

  "Huhehehehehehe...!!!"

  It was the kind of ugh that didn’t scream evil mastermind, but rather Saturday morning cartoon side character.

  [Host, you're ruining his image,] Vivi sighed, utterly done.

  Lemuel abruptly stopped and cleared his throat. "Spirit," he muttered in his usual cool voice, trying to salvage what little dignity remained.

  “What can I do, Vivi? I basically aura-farmed out there. That’s been a dream of mine for ages, and it just happened.”

  [As long as you’re happy, Host... as long as you're happy,] Vivi replied, resigned. After surviving a month of Bora’s unpredictable antics, she no longer had the energy to fix his behavior. She simply watched the world burn beside him.

  "Still, I’m disappointed I didn’t see Light Bearer," Lemuel added with a pout, referring to one of the supposed 'protagonist types' he expected to meet. "I wonder if he’s as pathetic as his game version."

  [Then why not go inside, Host?] Vivi said sweetly, her voice suspiciously cheerful—too cheerful.

  Lemuel narrowed his eyes. "You’re pitching something, aren’t you?"

  [Nooo~] Vivi dragged out the lie like a child denying stolen candy. [But what if I told you... I could give you a morph spell. Fully realistic. You could turn into an unnoticeable mob girl. Totally average. But—if someone touches you, poof, you return to Lemuel.]

  "...That reeks of a trap," Lemuel said ftly. "What’s the catch?"

  [Every Vilin Point you have.]

  He froze. "Every?"

  [Yes.]

  "You scammer!!" Lemuel screamed internally. [Host, let’s be honest—you’re never going to use the store. You keep saying you want ‘authentic growth,’ remember? Might as well get some chaos out of it.] Vivi’s argument was infuriatingly logical.

  Lemuel groaned and looked up at the sky, thinking of all the imaginary items he’d never own. His inner accountant wailed as he muttered, "...Fine. Do it."

  [Transaction complete! Vilin Points bance: 0!] Vivi announced cheerfully.

  Lemuel got a new system notification. He now possessed a skill: Morph (Fixed). It would always morph him into that one specific mob girl model—no changes, no refunds.

  "...I’ve been scammed," Lemuel thought, as dead inside as his Vilin Points bance.

  Lemuel took a breath, steeling himself.

  “System, commence the disguise.”

  With a faint shimmer, his figure shifted—height reduced, features softened, and curves dialed just barely above ftline. His long bck hair draped forward in unkempt bangs, nearly obscuring his eyes. The standard academy uniform hung from his now smaller frame like it was designed by someone who gave up halfway through.

  He gnced at his reflection on a nearby window and let out the saddest sigh in existence.

  "...This body is so mid it hurts," he muttered mentally, despair cing every word. "It’s like that 'I’m in this picture and I don’t like it' meme—except I am the meme."

  [Ahh, don’t be like that, Host,] Vivi said with forced cheer. [Just treat it like... I dunno, a rental body. Or cospy. You're still hot inside, spiritually.]

  Lemuel—now fully embracing his new identity—gave up emotionally and decided to name the persona on the spot.

  "Michan," he decred ftly. "Short for Mid-chan. The very embodiment of mediocrity. I am... tragically average."

  She (he) gave a hollow ugh in her thoughts. Vivi, upon hearing it, felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps scamming her host out of all his Vilin Points wasn’t her brightest moment.

  Even the system interface glitched slightly, as if ashamed of the low-tier transformation.

  Still, Mid-chan stood tall—or at least slouched at a reasonable height—and cracked her knuckles with mock determination.

  “Alright! Enough self-loathing. I have heroines to scout. Possibly Light himself to evaluate. Operation Mid-Stalker is a go!”

  And with that, Mid-chan tiptoed her way back into the academy building, eyes sharp, mana cloaked, presence suppressed, looking like the kind of girl nobody notices—and for once, that was exactly the pn.

  She passed through a few students in the hallway, completely ignored, which ironically boosted her mood.

  “No one even looked twice at me. Perfect stealth stat. Who needs an invisibility cloak when you look this unremarkable?”

  [Host, you're scaring me with how fast you're adapting,] Vivi whispered.

  “Let me have this,” Michan replied with dead eyes and a triumphant smirk, already scanning the cafeteria from behind a pilr like an undercover goblin.

  Michan slipped seamlessly into the crowd like a ghost in uniform. Her small, unassuming frame did wonders for stealth as the opening ceremony droned on in the background. She kept her head low, her long bangs acting like built-in camoufge, and navigated through the sea of students with practiced grace.

  “There,” she noted mentally, spotting her younger sister seated beside Mari. A subtle wave of relief washed over her.

  "Good. If she’s sticking close to Mari, it'll be easy to slip her money and resources without drawing attention. Being an overprotective sibling in secret feels like an S-tier side quest."

  She didn’t linger—this was recon, not bonding. Her gaze swept across the auditorium like a hawk on a caffeine high.

  Then she froze.

  “Is that... ohhh it is. Merry Beaux. Childhood friend of Light. Former noble. Marquis family. Tsundere type. Ft as a cutting board. Cssic.”

  Michan observed Merry with mild amusement as the girl sat stiffly, arms crossed, clearly annoyed by something or someone—or maybe that was just her default setting. Despite her familiar character archetype, Light was nowhere to be found.

  Michan tilted her head.

  "Wait. Light should be here... unless... oh. Right. The cssic 'Main Character in Css D' cliché. I'm in Css S, second year. Of course I won't bump into him casually. Script says no."

  Shrugging off the minor disappointment, Michan resumed her scouting like a frustrated dungeon crawler who couldn't find the hidden boss room.

  She turned a corner and stopped again.

  “Ah. Samantha Fme. The Crimson Duchess of the Central Kingdom.” Her eyes narrowed. “Duke-rank noble. Kuudere. Zero emotional dispy. Red design motif. Confusing contrast. Honestly, she looks like a tsundere, talks like a kuudere, and acts like a sleep-deprived AI. The writers got bold here.”

  And then came a brief fsh of ptinum armor.

  “…Of course. Bright Shield is here too. Literal knight in shining armor. Chivalrous. Handsome. Loud. Overrated.”

  Michan sighed inwardly. No sign of the other heroines yet, but she wasn’t surprised. This was just the prologue—the real plot wouldn’t start rolling until the Academy arc got into gear.

  Typical. Can’t frontload all the fgs or the pacing falls apart. I’ll just keep watching, maybe drop a few comments from the shadows like a mysterious NPC.

  With a small smirk tugging at her lips, Michan slipped further into the crowd, unseen and unnoticed. She was everywhere and nowhere. A background character. A wallflower. A mid-tier phantom with SSS-tier stealth.

  And yet, behind those dull bangs and dead eyes, the raid boss of the game world continued to scheme with glee.

  Just wait, Light. Your true final boss is currently scouting the entire cast in a girl’s uniform and regretting everything.