I became aware that I was a game character on the first of May.

Before that, I had gone through the usual routine of living in accordance to my parents' wishes. I played tennis, a "respectable sport," to hone my instincts and body. I volunteered to be class representative throughout my elementary school and middle school years, regardless of the people who whispered about my "goody-two-shoes" act behind my back. I dyed my hair brown: the color was just unusual enough to be noticed, but not so unusual to be punished. I attended cram school after school and on the weekends to ensure my grades wouldn't fall behind, and I frequently visited the library to check out classic novels that'd expand my knowledge.

Eventually, I had accumulated a reputation of "smart, beautiful, confident, and athletic." When I first heard about my illustrious reputation, I couldn't help but laugh: I had done it! Through my constant efforts to strive towards perfection, I had become a girl that everyone aspired to be. If I continued along this path, I'd eventually be accepted to a high-ranked college. Maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to find somebody special to treasure. (Shoujo manga, although impractical, had always been my guilty pleasure.)

Then, I entered high school.

I had been originally excited: after all, high school meant new opportunities, people, and clubs. In fact, for the first month of high school, I had participated in the Debate Club. Debate was outside of my usual comfort zone, but it was fun. Researching new topics and arguing for my position had been exhilarating.

Of course, there were some minor setbacks. The Debate Club president hardly liked me; I often contradicted her points with hard, cold evidence. (It wasn't my fault that I spent longer researching than her: the library had plenty of resources that expanded beyond the websites she used.) I didn't intend to take over her role as club president, but as the weeks went on, the other club members began coming to me for advice once they noticed my growing achievements. Obviously, the president wasn't very happy about that. Eventually, her animosity had grown to the point that I considered quitting: being a part of the club wasn't worth the glares and badmouthing.

But I wasn't going to quit...not really, not until I met MC.

He had a name at the time, of course. Taro Yamada, the default Japanese name placeholder. I had originally laughed when I heard a boy by the name of "Taro Yamada" would transfer into our class, thinking that he'd become one of the many forgotten faces of my youth.

But when he walked through the door, we locked eyes.

And then everything came crashing down on me.

I could see things, things I couldn't see before.

There. Right above his head. [Insert-Name-Here].

I thought it was a joke, somebody playing a bad trick on me. Then I began noticing other things previously hidden to my eyes. Textboxes, files, and…

...a script.

There was a file labelled script flashing in front of me, as if it was mocking me or something. I excused myself to the nurse's office, took off running, and accessed it.

I learned that we were in a game. I also learned that we were currently in the "background" arc, and that our meeting was so insignificant that it hardly warranted anything but a small mention in the script.

And, most importantly, I learned that I was a side character, a simple stepping stone that would invite MC to my newly formed club so that he could fall in love with one of the three girls I recruited.

None of my efforts in the past mattered. None of the work I put into my reputation, my body, my intelligence, my kindness mattered because in the end, there would be an ending and I would never find my Prince Charming or happily ever after. I existed solely to grant others a chance at happiness, and I would cease to exist after I had fulfilled my role.

I was a disposable side character with no place in any of the happy endings MC would reach.

That day, one month after the start of my high school debut, I collapsed on the floor of the nurse's office and sobbed.

I once read about the stages of grief.

It was to help one of my friends who had lost her father in a car accident. Although books could only provide so much knowledge, I didn't know where else to turn to. I'd never experienced loss before, and I didn't expect to experience loss for many years to come.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

I was in the denial phase for only a few minutes. After all, with the files blinking directly before our eyes, there wasn't much room to deny it. Sure, maybe I just had schizophrenia or some other mental disorder I wasn't aware of, but as I read through the script, I found my doubts quickly disappearing. It was too elaborate, too convoluted of an idea; my mind would never have conceived the idea by itself.

Then came the anger, bitter and biting. Why was I the side character? What made those girls — Natsuki, Sayori, Yuri — so much better than me? What did I do wrong? I had trained myself to be everything someone would want to be: independent, intelligent, athletic, and caring! Why was I of all people delegated to the role of a side character?

Then, gnawing feelings of self hatred began to well inside me. Why did I have to find out? I never truly understood the meaning of the phrase "ignorance is bliss," but now it was all I longed for. At the very least, if I never knew I was fictional, it would hurt less when the game ended and I reached a game over. I wouldn't even realize that I was destined for nothing, I wouldn't have to live my life knowing that it was all a sham.

Stupid, irritating, annoying—!

Why? What made them so special? What made me different? What made me boring?

Why did I have to be in a game in the first place? All I wanted was a happy life; it wasn't as if I cheated or anything. I had put genuine effort into becoming not only a great person, but a good person.

The last thought struck me.

In my life, I had never cheated before. I was too prideful for that — I always had a somewhat vain part of me that refused to accept help or cut corners, but I never minded it because it kept my morals in check.

But now...now, knowing that I was someone else's made-up character, that vain part of me had silenced.

Screw depression. Screw acceptance.

If I wasn't going to be granted a happy ending, I would forge it with my two hands. I wasn't going to allow destiny — a script, a fucking script — to rule me.

Sometimes I wondered how my self-awareness came to be, but I would never truly stop to ponder it. The Third Eye compelled me not to think about it, after all.

I quit the Drama Club two weeks after realizing my destiny. Of course, I considered the possibility of not creating the Literature Club. In fact, that was my original intention.

But somehow...there was this growing, ominous voice that whispered inside me. It told me to quit. It told me to create the club. I knew that this voice was probably the plot trying to drive me towards the proper course. Instead, it almost drove me insane.

It whispered to me, telling me to befriend Taro Yamada. After all, I'd be the person to set the game in motion: I had to invite him to my club next year, and he'd be more willing to accept if we were friends. Everyday when I walked into the classroom, my eyes would involuntarily flicker towards the plain-looking boy being harangued by his pink-haired (pink hair!) childhood friend.

Her name was Sayori, and she was one of his love interests.

Instead of catching his eyes (curious, prying, fake), I looked away.

I distanced myself from my friends. There was no point in talking with them, anyways: they were more insignificant than me. They had no point in the plot, and they'd also be deleted after the game ended. At first, they tried to include me in their conversations, but when I began eating lunch on the school rooftop, they got the hint and left me alone.

My reputation shifted from the "friendly class president" to the "unapproachable beauty." I still talked with people, but I never let any of them grow close to me. Even Makoto-kun, a rather attractive boy that I think I could've fallen for if I had been given the chance. Everyone was fine with that, anyways. I still took care of my class president duties and participated well enough in class.

During my quiet rooftop lunches, I would experiment with the files floating in front of me. I admit unabashedly that my first attempt at changing the game mechanics was to delete the script. That didn't work, so next I tried replacing my name with the girls'. If I was going to be stuck in a game, at the very least I could become a main character.

That didn't work either, so instead I began manipulating the script.

It worked. Well, at least I thought it worked: I couldn't be sure, since we were still in the "background" phase of the game. I'd have to wait until second year to see if my changes did anything.

I slowly began to realize that the plot was unavoidable.

That was why I decided to outplay the game.

I didn't befriend Taro Yamada: after all, he was irrelevant. After the game started, it would be MC taking over the reins, and so the boy who he was before hardly mattered. But I did begin to seek out the other girls in the script.

Natsuki, Sayori, Yuri.

We were all in the same boat, right? Maybe they also became self-aware! Together, we could find a way to stop the game. If we all refused to play...well, there had to be some way to stop it, right?

I was proven wrong immediately after meeting Natsuki.

"What are you talking about?" The pink-haired girl glared at me, propping her hand on her hip. All of the girls in the game had unusual hair colors. Just another way to show how they were, I guessed. "A script?"

"So you can't see it?" I asked.

"No...you might want to go to the nurse's office, or something. Seeing things isn't normal, you know," the girl chided, returning to her manga. I considered commenting about the series; it was a shoujo manga I really liked, after all. But then again...sharing interests with her didn't really matter. It didn't matter if we were manga buddies: it just mattered that she and MC became manga buddies.

"Will do," I laughed, flashing her my patented smile. "Sorry about this. Enjoy your lunch!"

I scurried off. My questions towards the other two girls garnered similar responses of incredulity, so I was faced with the undeniable truth.

I was alone.

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Just Monika.