Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 153: Pointed
"Mr. Alicei, please introduce yourself."
He pointed a thick finger toward the back of the room, to the empty desk directly beside Cecilia’s seat by the window. "There’s a vacant seat there beside Miss Araceli. So go sit after you finish your introduction. Professor Suna will arrive in a moment for her period."
"Thank you, Professor."
The voice was low, cultured, and carried a timbre that seemed to vibrate at a frequency just below hearing.
Professor Hargrave gave a curt nod, gathered his ledger, and strode out, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence he left behind was even heavier. Twenty and more pairs of eyes were locked on the newcomer.
The young man turned to face the room fully.
"Good morning, fellow academics." His tone was polite, neutral. "My name is Oathran Alicei from the Alicei Household. Nice to make your acquaintance."
He gave a slight, formal bow from the neck.
DING!
[You’ve met Transfer!Oathran Rank 1, the school’s new mysterious beauty!]
[Unlock rewards by acquiring scenario copies in the banner and completing tasks!]
A list unfurled in her vision.
[Reward Rank 2]
- [5 Stars Outfit: Transfer!Oathran’s School Uniform]
Disguise him as a normal school boy, and +50% STR
- [Task: Make him kiss you!]
[Reward Rank 3]
- [5 Stars Weapon: Transfer!Oathran’s Lance]
+50% ATK
- [Task: Make him confess to you!]
[Reward Rank 4]
- [5 Stars Artifact: Transfer!Oathran’s Woven String Bracelet]
+50% CritDMG
- [Task: Make him claim you in front of everyone!]
[Reward Rank 5]
- [5 Stars Artifact: Transfer!Oathran’s Metal Heeled Shoes]
+50% CritRate
- [Task: Make love with him!]
[Reward Rank 6]
- [5 Stars Skill Orb: Psychoscopy]
Grant him the ability to perceive and interpret the psychic impressions and memories left upon objects or locations.
- [Task: Uncover his secret!]
[Reward Rank 7]
- [5 Stars Skill Orb: Tactile Empathy]
Grant him the ability to influence the emotional state and surface thoughts of others through physical contact.
- [Task: Make him remember the life outside of this scenario!]
The familiar boilerplate text followed.
[You will be returned to your world after you complete the tasks, and no time will pass outside of the scenario.]
[You can gain Love Points and double the Affinity Levels in this scenario.]
[You can roll the banners in this scenario.]
[Good luck, and have fun!]
Cecilia let her gaze drift from the shimmering text back to the real-world before her.
Transfer!Oathran was now walking down the aisle between the desks. His steps were silent on the worn floorboards. His focus was on the empty desk. Her desk’s neighbor.
He reached it, placed his simple leather satchel on the floor without a sound, and slid into the seat. He arranged his writing materials, a fountain pen, a notebook of expensive-looking vellum, before finally settling, his posture perfect, his gaze fixed forward on the empty blackboard.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Cecilia Araceli," she said gently. Just normal academic courtesy.
She didn’t turn her body, just merely tilted her face at an adequate angle in his direction, her eyes skimming his form for less than a second before snapping back to the dense text of her Advanced Thaumaturgical Principles textbook.
The immediate priority was temporal orientation. Was this a fresh branch, or a continuation? She needed data.
Subtly, she flipped a few pages in her book, not reading the arcane diagrams of mana flow, at least not yet, but searching for the marginalia of her past self.
Her own handwriting filled the margins. And then, she saw it. A doodle of a grumpy-looking lion in the corner of a page on elemental convergence theory. And a hastily scrawled reminder. ’Eastiel’s elemental pracs, Tues/Thurs, South Quad. Do NOT bring coffee again. (Incident).’
Her heart gave a small lurch.
After!
This scenario happened after Eastiel!
A wave of triumph washed through her. Perfect. The timeline was linear within the confines of this artificial world. The social earthquakes she and Eastiel had triggered, the public fights, the whispered confirmations, the keychains on his belt, they were part of this reality’s history. The groundwork was laid.
Yes!
A harem ending in this twisted school sim would be possible. The narrative could accommodate it because the narrative already held the seeds. And more importantly...
She could plan things.
She knew the terrain. She knew the key players. She had already shifted the social tectonics once. She could do it again.
Today was—fuck.
It was a week after...
...cold marble, heated whispers, and her own voice, far too loud, echoing off vaulted ceilings...
...after that hallway... hallway se—
Cecilia closed her eyes shut. Heat flooded her cheeks. She could feel the burn all the way to the tips of her ears.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Araceli."
Ah.
She flinched. A tiny, involuntary jerk of her shoulders she hoped he didn’t see. The heat in her face intensified. Of course. Of course he would speak now, when she was at her most mentally disheveled.
Oathran had responded.
The voice was the same as before. It was low, cultured, and perfectly polite. Yet, heard from barely two feet away, it seemed to vibrate differently.
She simply gave a small, tight nod, and pretended to be absorbed in the complexities of theoretical magic.
AUGH—
Where even was Eastiel?! Was he skipping class? Of course he was. That bully! Leaving her alone to face the social fallout of their... everything... while he was probably off somewhere cool and breezy, not having to explain a single thing. Or had they? She didn’t know!
Well, if this was Oathran’s scenario, and the System hadn’t yet activated the ’harem route’ protocol, then the world’s narrative logic would naturally sideline other romantic variables. The spotlight had to be on the new male lead.
But... where?
Was he narratively "away", or was he physically elsewhere in the school, a loaded Chekhov’s gun of chaotic energy waiting to stumble into this delicate new act?
The classroom door swung open again. Professor Suna swept in, a woman with the sharp eyes of a hawk and a perpetual air of being deeply disappointed by the collective intellectual output of adolescence. She placed her materials on the desk with a thump.
Her gaze swept the rows. It landed on the conspicuously empty seat where a certain golden-haired elemental prodigy usually held court, oozing lazy arrogance.
"Oh," she said. "Eastiel Edengold is not here? Anyone know why?"
It was as if she had pulled a single, unified lever.
In a single, synchronized breath, the entire class, every head, every pair of eyes, swiveled. Not toward the door. Not toward the professor.
Toward Cecilia.
