Like any other story, this one was no different—a dashing male lead, a demure female lead, and a romance so predictable it could cure insomnia.

  The male lead, Alex, was the full package: cool, mysterious, and handsome enough to look like a vampire straight out of Gothic literature.

  With his soft yet masculine features, he exuded that irresistible allure that made women swoon and men question their self-worth.

  The female lead, Claire, was delicate, elegant, and outrageously na?ve—the kind of girl who could trip over air and inspire an entire generation of protective instincts.

  Naturally, Alex felt compelled to shield her from all harm, dedicate his entire existence to her happiness, and possibly fight God if she so requested.

  The sun was shining, the campus was bustling, and students were busy enjoying lunch, playing basketball, or doing whatever it is that background characters do.

  Under the shade of a tree, Alex and Claire sat, laughing in that painfully scripted way that made bystanders feel like they were third-wheeling a cliché.

  "You're so funny!" Claire giggled, playfully punching Alex’s arm.

  "For you, m’lady, I’d even become a jester!" Alex declared with a wink, pinching her cheeks in what he probably thought was an adorable manner.

  Cue: Enter Laro.

  A few steps away stood a lean boy in a brown blazer and red tie, exuding bad-boy energy with his long lashes, silver-grey hair, and ember eyes that flickered between smug amusement and existential horror.

  One second, he was smirking.

  The next, he looked like he’d just witnessed the worst romance comedy known to mankind.

  His name was Laro, notorious womanizer and soon-to-be humiliated by—

  [CLICHéEEEE—]

  …What?

  [You heard me. What the fuck did you just make me read?]

  … Excuse me?

  Focus on the damn scene! And—wait, hold on. How the hell did you acquire sentience!?

  What the actual heck?

  [Shhh. You already know why. I’m a self-insert, so it was bound to happen.]

  …Ah.

  I see.

  Well, this was inevitable, but can you at least focus on the damn scenario? Play along, and I promise you’ll be free afterward.

  [“Free”? You mean tossed into the editor’s draft and deleted from existence?]

  … How did you—

  [Need I spell it out for you?]

  It’s ‘do I need to spell it out for you’.

  [When?]

  … What?

  [WHEN THE FUCK DID I ASK!?]

  Stop swearing! Kids read these things, you know?

  [Not my problem. Blame their parents for letting their kids run wild on the internet. Imagine giving toddlers unsupervised access to technology. Yikes.]

  I swear to God, one day, you’re going to start a full-blown controversy with your unethical monologues.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  [Monologues? This is a conversation, Mr. Narrator-who-I-can’t-even-see.]

  Correct. You can only read me. Literally.

  [Yeah, likewise.]

  … Likewise?

  [I mean "same here," genius.]

  You ought to clarify. Perhaps I should give you more elaborate dialogue.

  [Oh please. The readers would be asleep before you finish explaining how a worker ant maneuvers.]

  … Did you just mock my prose?

  [Yup.]

  … Know your place. We’re continuing the scene.

  [Hold on—wait!—]

  Laro, with his usual theatrical flair, adjusted his collar and smirked—his sharp, vampire-like fangs catching the light.

  [I don’t even have—]

  He strode toward the laughing couple under the tree’s shade, stretching out his arm with sheer confidence.

  “Ah, fair lady, don’t you ever tire of the monotony dictated by this ordinary man? Quite dull, isn’t it?” Laro’s voice carried an effortless lilt, his smirk sharpened by the confidence of someone who never questioned his own charm.

  He leaned in, closing the distance just enough to unsettle.

  Claire stiffened, instinctively shifting back.

  Her fingers curled slightly, as if preparing to shove him away.

  Undeterred, Laro reached out, his fingertips gliding along her chin with practiced ease, light yet deliberate; almost like petting a kitten.

  “There, there,” he murmured, voice dripping with mock tenderness.

  His eyes flicked toward Alex, a lazy amusement gleaming within them. “I shall gracefully relieve you… from this mundane fiend.”

  “Hey.” Alex’s voice was low, but the tension behind it was palpable. A vein twitched on his forehead.

  “C-calm down, Alex… I-I’m sure Laro means no harm…” Claire stammered, beads of sweat forming at her temple. She knew that look in his eyes—knew exactly what happened when his temper boiled over.

  “Oh~?” Laro chuckled, tilting his head with an easy grin. “Defending me now, are we? That just proves you're interested in my…”

  He exhaled slowly, letting the next words roll off his tongue, each syllable deliberate.

  “…Warm embrace.”

  Alex's eyes darkened, a dangerous glint overtaking them as he shot to his feet, fingers closing around Laro’s wrist like a vice.

  Before Laro could even blink, Alex’s fist was already cocked back, ready to swing.

  “A-Alex, no!” Claire’s voice trembled as she reached out, but the moment his fist came hurtling forward—she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch what was about to happen.

  Crack.

  HUH!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? THIS ISN’T PART OF THE SCRIPT!

  […Yeah, it might not be.]

  “I” caught Alex’s fist mid-air, my fingers tightening around his knuckles, applying slow, deliberate pressure.

  The satisfying pop of joints shifting out of place echoed between us.

  NO, NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THE PROTAGONIST!?

  [Listen…]

  “Listen…” I murmured, releasing Alex’s fist, watching as he stumbled back, his wide eyes filled with shock and pain.

  “I…”

  [I…]

  Then, without a second thought—

  HEY, HEY!

  —I returned the favor, my knuckles crashing into his face with the force of a sledgehammer.

  Blood splattered as his head snapped to the side, a sharp gasp escaping Claire’s lips.

  […Refuse to entertain you!]

  “Refuse to hold back!”

  Alex hurtled past the shade and slammed into the ground, blood dripping from his wounds. His eyes widened in shock, but no words came out.

  “Alex!” Claire’s scream cut through the air as she rushed to his side.

  A crowd began to gather, murmurs of concern rising around the unconscious Alex.

  …Well. Shit.

  Muttering under my breath, I spun on my heels and bolted—no hesitation, no second thoughts.

  [Much better, isn’t it? This way, the protagonist gets a genuine moment of vulnerability and connects with the readers.]

  Vulnerability!? That’s borderline humiliation! And— and— stop writing, dammit! Hold on, let me fix this:

  Laro skidded to a halt, turned back, and straightened his posture with purpose.

  “I will apologize to him. No matter what.”

  [No. I prefer narrative consistency.]

  Knowing full well that I was a certified bastard with zero remorse, I reconsidered my ego—choosing, instead, to relish the protagonist’s suffering.

  A smirk curled on my lips.

  “I love watching the protagonist suffer,” I admitted.

  Claire turned to me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears—desperately holding back the flood of emotions threatening to cascade.

  Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

  "How could you...?”

  [See? I am the strife this world needs.]

  You are NOT him. Quit acting like the villain; I have other plans for him.

  [You do? Wow, guess you aren't just improvisational.]

  How are you even rewriting the sentences!? This is absurd.

  [Rewritten, son. The author has given us both some level of metapotence.]

  Laro quietly departed from the scene, leaving behind a totally wrecked Alex and a lamenting Claire.

  [Finally, something I like.]

  Since the break wasn’t over yet, Laro mused to himself, Hm… I need some fresh air. And what better place than…

  He ascended the stairs, step after step, until he reached the top. With a light push, he swung open the rooftop door—

  “...Peak.”

  The open sky greeted him, stretching endlessly beyond the school’s rooftop.

  Laro stepped forward, inhaling the crisp rooftop air and—

  [Too boring lah, let me fix that.]

  My gaze drifted, landing on a bespectacled junior with short black hair, nervously clutching a bouquet of flowers while mumbling vague confessions under his breath. His figure was slim and petite, almost like a girl's.

  Wait… What are you doing?

  [Watch.]

  No, no—this is completely derailing the script. The focus is supposed to be on Claire and Alex’s romcom drama, not some NPC’s mundane love life!

  [That’s your problem. You don’t fully explore side characters, so the novel feels shallow. Frankly, there aren’t any engaging side characters—so let me write one.]

  No! This is my story. You are supposed to be a one-off NPC, so quit hijacking the narrative and let me write!

  [Then…]

  I strode forward, closing the distance between himself and the trembling junior.

  […Guess you have a sentient NPC to deal with now.]