"Everyone, quiet! I know you're all uneasy, but there's nothing we can do about it. A lot of incidents have been happening lately."
Ms. Claire shot a displeased glance at the guards outside the classroom.
In just the past few days, the number of guards had suddenly increased. Probably because some higher-ups had deployed them after all the recent incidents.
She could understand their position, but...
Did the sight of the students looking so anxious bother her?
She was trying to calm the students down, but the one who seemed to have the most to say was the teacher herself. She was probably holding back to reassure them.
"As you all know, crimes targeting Academy students have been surging recently. Of course, you're all superhumans, and you're strong. But the villains are superhumans too. You should be careful."
Hmm, that doesn’t seem right.
Generally speaking, Ms. Claire was correct, but the Webermensch lackeys were just regular people running around with guns.
They were probably people with low compatibility for the pill. I didn’t think superhumans would lose to those kinds of guys...
But it was true that the number of superhumans far outnumbered those in other villain organizations. I’d better keep quiet.
"So don’t pay attention to them and focus on your classes. The reason you’re being targeted is because you’re letting those guys look down on you!"
"...That’s true."
"If they’re committing crimes, they must be nobodies, right? Why would they target us?"
The students’ frustration instantly shifted toward the villains.
Wow, her ability to manipulate the mood was no joke.
In the blink of an eye, she’d turned the students’ unease into anger at the villains’ arrogance. She subtly implied that the villains were weak and that the students were being underestimated, boosting their morale. As expected of a teacher.
"...Also, remember that final exams are in a month. If you want good grades, you’ll have to work harder, right?"
"Ugh. I’d forgotten about that."
"Ms. Claire, please don’t remind us..."
And her ability to crush their motivation just as quickly was also no joke.
The students who had been so fired up a moment ago were now groaning in despair.
"Final exams... What will be on them?"
[Hmm, what should I do? What would be good...]
The Author started pondering various possibilities.
...But this time, I had no intention of soothing or comforting the Author.
Drawing at the crime scene without my knowledge, the sudden appearance of twelve Webermensch executives, the Laila Perry incident, and the beast attack on the Academy’s entrance ceremony day.
Looking back, there had been an absurd number of twists and turns.
The Author had been letting me grow at my own pace, only intervening to prevent truly dangerous situations. But here, I decided to cross the line a little.
Was it dangerous? ...No, if I didn’t act now, the opportunity might never come again.
If things continued like this, the final boss the protagonist had to defeat might end up being some world-ending cosmic monster on an unimaginable scale.
To prevent that, I needed to find out how much influence I could have over the Author.
Up until now, I had only ever suggested things to the Author. I had never taken control of the story myself.
But this couldn’t go on. What if one day an event so massive occurred that it became uncontrollable?
What if, due to some small mistake, the protagonist actually died? What if the Author gave up on this world because of that?
I had to try now, while there was still some leeway. To test the limits of what the Author would allow.
...And for one other purpose.
I steeled my resolve, subtly shifted positions, and approached Amelia.
"Miss Amelia, do you know?"
"Uh, h-huh? No, I don’t know either. Didn’t you say you didn’t know either, senpai?"
Right. The author hadn’t set the details, so the final exam content wasn’t decided yet.
In a world where undefined things were filled in appropriately, it probably changed every year or something like that.
"I didn’t know either, but they say the test content changes every year to prevent leaks. Sometimes the same test from last year shows up, so it’s completely random."
See? Just as I expected, the test content was completely random.
…But that wasn’t the important part. What came next was.
"Ahaha. I heard a rumor about it."
"Really?!"
"Yes. I think it’s pretty accurate? It seems plausible. The final exam is a tournament."
"A tournament?"
"Yes. A tournament for all the freshmen."
[?! W-wait, Reader-nim! What are you doing?!]
The author panicked, realizing what I had done.
Of course. She was the one who set the story’s direction.
But she wasn’t an omnipotent god. She was just someone transcribing this world’s story. She could alter it to her taste, but there were limits.
A puppeteer couldn’t control hundreds of millions of puppets all at once.
Moreover, the author had to show her puppet show to others. That was where the gap lay.
I was probably one of the main characters in her novel. There was no way she wouldn’t use me when I was this close to the protagonist.
And for me, a major character, to tell Amelia—who was likely the main heroine—something with no basis in the story? From a narrative perspective, that didn’t make sense.
Amelia would naturally tell the protagonist what I’d said.
But what if the actual exam format was completely different from what I’d described?
In reality, this wouldn’t even be an issue.
It’d just be some baseless rumor, after all.
But in a novel, it was different. This wasn’t some trivial matter—it was about the final exam. It was a narrative foreshadowing.
With no prior hints, would readers have any reason *not* to take my words as foreshadowing?
No. They wouldn’t. Readers would believe the only information they had.
They’d accept the foreshadowing that the final exam was a tournament.
Of course, the author could just not write it into the story. But I’d already told Amelia.
The protagonist and heroine would start to believe me to some extent.
After all, people don’t usually make things up out of nowhere, right? They’d assume I’d heard it from somewhere.
Plus, I’d been through various events with them so far. I had some credibility.
Now they’d act based on that information.
They’d prepare for the final exam under the assumption it was a tournament.
What if the author introduced a different kind of test?
The narrative would fall apart. Yu Siwoo and Amelia would be expecting a tournament, so they’d prepare for one-on-one battles.
If the test was something like monster subjugation instead? The main heroine and protagonist would be thrown into confusion.
In the end, the author would have no choice but to make it a tournament—just as I’d said.
…And that was exactly what I was aiming for.
It was a move the author couldn’t undo because she couldn’t alter events that had already happened.
"Take it as a reference. …Well, I’ll be going now."
"Uh, y-yeah… Thanks."
After bidding Amelia farewell, I naturally slipped out of the classroom and into an alleyway.
…I wonder how this will turn out.
My hands were trembling.
[Well, a tournament isn’t so bad!]
"...Is that so?"
[Yes... But you shouldn’t do that again, okay? I’ll get mad! You told me to speak and act, but what am I supposed to do if you do that?!]
"Ha, haha... Right. I’m sorry."
I’m saved.
Relief and disappointment drained all the strength from my body.
This was different from all the times I had coaxed and soothed the Author before.
Complaining to her, getting angry at her—those were nothing compared to how rude this was.
This was shaking the very work itself.
Because I had shaken the story she was writing to suit my own tastes.
...And yet she forgave me. Did that mean the Author trusted me? Or did it mean she couldn’t change me?
Of course, it was good that she wasn’t angry, but failing to achieve my second goal left me a little disappointed.
What was that goal?
...I wanted to know the truth. Was I human, or was I a doll?
Was I a doll who believed it was human? Or was I truly human?
I couldn’t tell. That’s why I had wanted her to get angry.
If she could tinker with my settings, then I was just a doll.
If memories of a family I didn’t even know appeared in my mind... would that have made me a doll?
...This body is a crafted doll. A doll shaped by the Author’s hands.
She had said it herself, hadn’t she? That she had made my chest. She had said it while looking at my chest.
A colorless, odorless doll stepping onto the stage would naturally need adjustments.
So when she inserted the setting of being an Academy student, I hadn’t thought much of it. It wasn’t changing me.
It was just filling an empty space with something. My memories and past weren’t being altered.
If a human were inside a doll that looked exactly like a human, would it be a doll? Or a human?
I decided to believe I was human.
Unlike those dolls, my life, my personality hadn’t been flipped upside down.
I hadn’t suddenly developed an inferiority complex like Laila, and unlike the nearly 2,400 villains, my life hadn’t changed in an instant.
Only a minor background had been filled in.
"Author. What do you think defines a human?"
[...? That’s a sudden question.]
"Answer quickly."
[Hmm, well... I’m not sure.]
"I think it’s whether or not they have free will. That’s what determines if someone is human or not."
[Free will?]
"Yes."
If the world moved by the hand of an omnipotent god.
If people moved as the god desired, died as the god desired—
...Could you really call them human? No, you couldn’t.
That was no different from a doll. A pitiful doll bound by the thread of fate.
They might believe they were acting on their own desires, but in the end, they were being controlled by the thread of fate without even realizing it. A pitiful doll.
I was different.
I could oppose her, interact with her, and move as I pleased.
But what about everyone else? A single line she wrote could change their lives.
It could change their fate. It could change their thoughts.
"A human without free will is no different from a doll."
[...Is that so?]
"Yes, it is."
I don’t really get what you’re saying.
She groaned as she said that, so I smiled brightly for her to see.
In this world, the only humans were me and the Author.
That’s what I decided to believe.
If I asked the Author whether she could change me, and she said yes—
...I don’t think I could bear that.