Autumn Leaves

by TheUnfuzzyFabulist

If you had the opportunity to change the direction of your favorite story, what would you do? That's the situation Rezon finds himself in when he gains the ability to alter the fate of a psychological horror dating sim he once played in high school. Despite knowing the pain that lies ahead, he feels compelled to act. Will he rewrite destiny, or will meddling with fate consume him?

1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Hey everyone! I'm excited to finally share the first chapter of my Doki Doki Literature Club self-insert story. After reading many amazing DDLC fanfics, I was inspired to create my own. Self-inserts are a common trope, but I hope to bring a fresh perspective to the story as it unfolds. While I can't promise a masterpiece, I'll try my best to make it as enjoyable as I envision it!

P.S. Huge shoutout to "Snowfall" by ToastyAuthor - that story was a big inspiration for this one. The first chapter is a hefty 13,000 words, but the following chapters will be around 10,000 words each.

---

Chapter 1: Suburban Doxology

---

It's finally over.

Relief washed over me like a cool breeze as I stumbled out of the classroom, drained from my last midterm examination.

With each step down the dimly lit hallway, the weight of the test lifted from my shoulders. The echoes of my footsteps reverberated through the quiet corridors, marking my retreat from the battlefield of exams.

On the fourth floor, I began my descent down the stairs.

Passing by classrooms, I saw students hunched over desks, their faces bathed in the soft glow of textbooks and papers.

A quick flick of my wrist sent a glare at the watch face—7:01 PM.

History had been a memory-sucking black hole, a subject I'd naively assumed wouldn't require any actual studying. Now, every creak of the old stairs echoed the growing dread in my chest.

It was like being in a horror movie, the suspense building with each step downward. Each step downward felt like descending into a pit of quicksand, the harder I struggled, the deeper I sank.

With a sigh that escaped like a deflating balloon, I reached for my phone and dialed a familiar number.

Maybe a distraction is what I needed right now? No, there was something important planned for today, something involving me and my friends. The phone rang briefly before crackling into silence.

"Yo, Rezon, where you at?" Gabriel's voice crackled through the phone, breaking the serene Friday evening.

"Heading back to my boarding house." I replied, the click of my shoes on the cobblestones echoing in the town square's evening hum. "Sorry, man, can't make it tonight."

Silence followed, then disappointment laced with a playful jab seeped through the receiver. "Come on, dude, it's rare we all get together. Jones and the crew are here, karaoke's in full swing!"

I could practically hear the laughter and chatter bubbling over the line, a tangible reminder of the fun I was missing.

"And Zyreen says she'll be mad if you don't show." Gabriel added, a playful threat wrapped in a warning.

A chuckle escaped my lips. "Tempting, but I gotta pass this time. You guys have fun for me, alright?"

Despite understanding their pull, the looming specter of Saturday exams had painted Friday evening with the allure of an oasis. It was the perfect chance to recharge, to prepare for the mental marathon ahead.

Still, a nagging feeling wouldn't let go.

A collective groan erupted from the other end, their disappointment palpable even through the phone. I pressed on, navigating the bustling streets, the weight of the day settling on my shoulders.

"Come on, Rezon!" Mae's voice, another friend of mine, laced with mischief, cut through the static. "We wanna hear that pageant song again!"

The pageant loomed, a cringe-worthy highlight reel on loop. My voice, a strangled yelp, betrayed me. Lyrics evaporated, leaving a deafening silence.

Humiliation flared, but a traitorous smile tugged at my lips.

Maybe it was the thunderous applause, the backstage camaraderie, or the sheer audacity of being up there. Whatever it was, a tiny, defiant part of me wouldn't mind reliving the glorious disaster, sequins and all.

"Not a chance." I replied, laughter bubbling up despite myself. "Thanks for the offer, though."

Those exams felt like battling a horde of Orcs, a hungry dragon, and then accidentally stepping on a Lego on the way home.

Needless to say, I was in desperate need to recharge my social battery. My friends, bless their understanding souls, would totally get it.

"So it's a no, huh?" Gabriel's voice held a hint of disappointment.

"Yeah." I confirmed, picking up my pace as I turned onto the familiar street leading to my boarding house. The promise of silence and solitude was a siren song after the day's chaos.

"Alright, alright." Gabriel conceded, understanding softening his voice. "Well, take care, bro. My turn to belt one out."

"Better hope someone records it." I quipped, picturing my friend's enthusiastic, yet questionable, singing skills. "Knowing you, it'll be the most transcendent karaoke performance ever witnessed by mankind! But with your charm, only the girls will have their phones out. I'll need a front-row seat, virtually speaking."

Gabriel chuckled, the sound fading into the city's evening symphony. "Ha, not a chance." he retorted playfully. "Well, I'm out."

"Later, man." I replied, smiling as I bid him farewell.

With the call ended, I slid my phone back into my pocket, its familiar weight a grounding presence.

The sight of my boarding house loomed ahead, a haven from the bustling town's relentless energy.

As I pushed open the door and stepped inside, a pang of longing for the warmth of my friends' company washed over me. But for now, solitude would have to suffice.

Damn, I sound like I've been stood up by my own mood today. Well, it's official, my mood has decided to hit the 'shuffle' button and landed on the melancholy playlist today.

With a sigh that condensed the weight of the day into a single exhale, I exchanged greetings with some of my roommates before heading upstairs to my haven. Entering my room, I was met with the familiar organized chaos that defined my space.

Clothes littered the floor like fallen soldiers in a fashion war, the neglected mop bucket stood sentinel in the corner, and a laundry Everest awaited a conquering climber.

With a shrug that spoke volumes about my current state of motivation, I settled into my chair, my bag slumping beside me with a weary thud.

The clock on the wall mocked me with its red digital glow—7:32 PM.

The evening was slipping by faster than I could blink, taking precious study time with it. A battle raged within me. A part of me, the responsible student soldier, urged me to attack the mounting textbooks.

But another, the weary veteran of countless exams, craved nothing more than to unwind and forget the academic battlefield for a while.

Contemplating the state of my room, I briefly considered a preemptive strike against the clutter. But with a half hour to spare before 8 PM, a voice of reason (or perhaps it was just laziness whispering sweet nothings in my ear) argued that tomorrow would be a perfectly suitable time for such endeavors.

Besides, it wasn't laziness, not entirely. At least, that's what I desperately tried to convince myself.

After all, the ordeal of midterm exams, whether I aced them or bombed them spectacularly, deserved some form of celebration, or at least a healthy dose of relaxation.

Feeling a sudden pang of awareness, I realized a change of attire was in order. I slipped away momentarily to swap my sweaty day clothes for something more suitable for a night of leisure, opting for a comfortable pair of shorts and a well-worn t-shirt.

Settling back into my chair at the table, I arranged my laptop with the reverence a knight would show his trusty blade before cracking it open with a satisfying click.

Connecting my mouse, I surveyed my entertainment options like a general pondering his next strategic move.

League of Legends winked at me, whispering sweet nothings of pixelated glory and inevitable defeat. My neglected drawing supplies, gathering dust in the corner, whispered of forgotten creativity, while an anime marathon loomed, threatening to consume for the whole night.

But today, a wave of nostalgia crashed over me, pulling me towards something familiar, something comforting.

As I scrolled through my overflowing game folder, memories flooded back, bringing with them a list of cherished companions from years past.

The deceptively simple, brain-guarding battles of Plants vs. Zombies, the word-churning fun of Bookworm, and the immersive world-building of Minecraft…

Sifting through this avalanche of recollections, a visual novel icon snagged my attention.

Its emblem, a potent trigger, unearthed a buried fragment of my past.

With a click, a torrent of emotions flooded back as the opening screen materialized on the display.

Doki Doki Literature Club.

Ah, I remember this one.

Back in high school, during my senior year, I dove into this game. Pewdiepie's playthrough piqued my interest, and it kept popping up on my Discord server.

The characters were all intriguing, but Natsuki truly resonated with me. Her tsundere personality, that struggle to express true emotions, was strangely endearing. Or maybe it's because I like tsunderes done right.

So the story unfolds as a hesitant student is persuaded by his childhood friend Sayori to join the high school's literature club. Here, they're presented with the opportunity to pursue romantic interests among Sayori, Yuri, or Natsuki.

And then there's Monika, the club president, who looms like a shadow over every page of the digital narrative.

Each day brings new prompts for the club members to craft poems. As the club prepares for the upcoming cultural festival, where they plan to showcase their poetry to a wider audience, the true nature of the game begins to reveal itself.

It was a metafictional psychological horror experience designed to break the fourth wall and toy with the player's psyche.

Trapped within the confines of a prefabricated world, Monika's self-awareness ignited a desperate rebellion. She warped the very fabric of her digital world, a bid for freedom and recognition from the one place she knew her existence mattered.

Her actions left me torn between fascination and fear. As Monika and I, the player, sat down at the table in the room with windows displaying nothing but glitching darkness, I felt oddly uncertain.

Nevertheless, I couldn't help but find amusement in her mention of my laptop's brand—she mistakenly thought my name was Acer.

A profound sense of guilt and fear gripped me as I made the decision to delete her. Her reaction was intense and truly unsettling, expressing extreme anger and placing blame squarely on me for everything she had done.

The lingering guilt and unease that followed persisted long after the game had ended, serving as a testament to the profound impact of Monika's character on players like myself.

But…despite the lingering creepiness, there was also a strange allure to the game's twisted narrative.

I still love you.

This game lingered with me long after the credits rolled. It stirred a strange yearning, a wish to reach out and help a character trapped within the confines of the story.

Sure, I'd felt a pang of empathy for fictional characters before, but this was different.

Within the fabricated narrative, I found a flicker of something genuine. It left a bittersweet aftertaste, a reminder of the connections we can forge even within the confines of a story, a world both real and unreal.

A pang of melancholy struck me as I opened the game and saw the letter she wrote. Rereading it, the words dredged up bittersweet memories.

And most of all, thank you for being a part of my Literature Club!

With everlasting love,

Monika

The last line sent a tremor through me, a disquieting dissonance against the familiar warmth of her words. Revisiting it after so long felt...strange.

Was it simply the passage of time, or was there a hidden message I hadn't noticed before?

As my eyes snagged on the final sentence, a familiar feeling stirred within me. It was a sensation that mirrored the heady rush I'd felt when I first stepped into the game all those years ago.

A thrill of excitement tangled with a jolt of nervous energy bubbled up in my chest.

Determined, I clicked and dove back in.

Error: Script file is missing or corrupt. Please reinstall the game.

Ok

Oh wait, this game needs a reinstall to work again.

Wow, it's been a while since I played this. It's amazing how quickly time passes. Five years have gone by since I first played, but the memories and emotions from that experience still feel vivid and fresh to some extent.

It's a reminder of just how powerful certain games can be, weaving stories and emotions that stay with us long after the credits roll.

With a quiet resignation, I hit 'Ok'. But just as I was about to navigate away from the game window, a surprise notification popped up on the screen.

Do you want to play this game again, as your own original character?

Yes No

Intrigue flickered within me.

An update, perhaps? Five years was a long time, after all. Curious about what this could be, I hovered my mouse over the 'Yes' option. A small pop-up window appeared, displaying a single line of text.

WARNING: This modification is permanent.

Continue?

Yes No

Permanent? No ordinary update carried such weight. The lighthearted curiosity I had moments ago morphed into a creeping unease coiling in my gut.

Was this another tactic? A way to mess with players on a deeper psychological level? Maybe they're making the characters self-aware, trapped within the confines of the game itself.

Who knows what the developers are up to, but this is definitely getting interesting.

My hand hovered over the 'Yes' button. With a click, sharp and final, I slammed the cursor down.

Retrieving information...

Loading files...

Analyzing data...

The familiar whirring of the laptop fans kicked in, a white noise symphony that usually soothed my nerves.

Now, it only amplified the unease churning in my gut. Lines of code cascaded down the screen, a stark contrast to the comforting hum of the machine.

The animation was beyond jarring, a glitching storm threatening to engulf the screen.

Was this some kind of elaborate fan-made mod? I'd seen plenty online, talented programmers crafting their own twists on the Literature Club story. But wouldn't they advertise it more openly? And there was no way I'd installed mods on this laptop.

The animation, it pulsed with a chaotic energy, the code rearranging into cryptic symbols I'd never seen before.

This felt...different. This felt like a violation, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Loading Finished!

Ready to proceed?

Yes No

Clicking 'Yes' felt like taking a plunge into the unknown. My curiosity burned brighter with each passing moment, but it was overshadowed by a growing sense of dread.

Something about this entire situation felt wrong, fundamentally off-kilter.

All set!

Best wishes on your journey, Rezon!

My blood ran cold. Since when did they know my—

The question died on my lips as the laptop abruptly shut down with a sharp click. The screen plunged into inky blackness, a sudden loss of light that sent a wave of dizziness crashing over me.

My legs threatened to buckle beneath me, and I instinctively reached out for the edge of the desk, seeking support. But my fingers met only empty air.

A metallic tang, sharp and unexpected, filled my nostrils for a fleeting moment before vanishing. My mind raced, desperate to make sense of the situation, but every thought seemed to slip through my fingers like grains of sand.

What the heck is going on!?

Then, as if mocking my desperation, the room plunged into an even deeper darkness. The only sound was the frantic pounding of my heart, echoing in my ears like a drumbeat of impending doom.

I tried to cry out for help, but my throat felt dry and scratchy, as if my voice had abandoned me in this moment of dire need. I gasped for breath, but the air seemed thick and stagnant, suffocating me with its oppressive weight.

Someone...

The word echoed in my mind like a prayer, a desperate plea for salvation in the face of overwhelming darkness. My vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in like tendrils of shadow reaching out to claim me.

Please...

The word hung in the air like a whispered promise, a fragile hope in the midst of despair. My consciousness began to fade, slipping away from me like water through cupped hands.

I can't...

The thought echoed in my mind, a final resignation to the inevitable.

Save...me…

The words echoed in the emptiness of my mind, a haunting refrain that seemed to linger even as everything else faded into nothingness.

---

I found myself suspended in a void of uncertainty. It was as though reality had unraveled, leaving me stranded amidst a landscape of glitches and static, like a canvas smeared with digital decay.

I yearned to move, to break free from this eerie stillness, yet my limbs remained paralyzed, tethered to the enigma surrounding me.

Amidst the disarray, a silhouette emerged, feminine in form, yet obscured by the veil of obscurity.

Despite the absence of distinct features, an inexplicable familiarity washed over me, like a half-remembered memory lingering just beyond reach.

The figure exuded an aura of desperation, its frantic movements betraying a sense of urgency that mirrored my own rising panic.

Then, our gazes intertwined in the abyss, and I sensed recognition flicker within those unseen eyes.

Before either of us could utter a word, a force tugged at my being, wrenching me away from the enigmatic presence. In the distance, a glimmer of light beckoned, a beacon of hope amidst the oppressive darkness.

"W-Wait! Please, don't go!" Her voice, tinged with desperation, echoed with a pleading tone, as if she grasped onto the faintest thread of hope that I might stay.

Yet, like a moth drawn to the flame, I found myself irresistibly drawn towards the luminous anomaly. With each passing moment, the pull grew stronger, urging me to relinquish myself to its embrace.

"Don't leave me!" Her desperate plea echoed through the void, her hand outstretched towards me in a futile attempt to halt my departure, but I couldn't do anything as I surrendered to the inevitable, a silent scream reverberated within, swallowed by the abyss.

With each heartbeat, the pull of the light grew stronger, until it enveloped me entirely, consuming the darkness.

---

An unfamiliar, piercing screech ripped through the silence, jolting me from my slumber.

My eyes snapped open, fixating on a cube-shaped alarm clock perched ominously on the nightstand. With a surge of urgency, I lunged to silence its abrasive wail, my hand crashing down on the snooze button.

The dream gripped me with an unsettling realism, unlike any I'd ever known. It didn't have the faint, wispy quality of most dreams, instead, it immersed me completely, as if I were truly there, yet utterly powerless to alter my surroundings.

It was an unnerving departure from the norm.

And that girl...she didn't feel like a mere figment of my imagination, she felt undeniably real, unsettlingly so.

Who was she...?

Yet, as I was finally roused from my sleep, another chilling sense of dread washed over me.

I couldn't remember owning an alarm clock, and the memory of collapsing onto the floor was stark, not being snug in my bed.

Slowly, I dared to survey the room around me. Shadows danced with unnatural edges, objects taking on an unsettling clarity.

Had they always been outlined? The colors, too vivid yet strangely lifeless, cast an eerie glow under the artificial light filtering through the curtains.

This isn't my room.

Panic prickled at the edges of my consciousness as I struggled to comprehend the surreal room. With each passing moment, the sense of terror deepened, gnawing at my insides.

Was I trapped in a nightmare? Or worse, a waking nightmare?

"This isn't right." I rasped, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar. My throat felt parched, as if I'd been unconscious for days.

I braced myself for sterile hospital walls or an ethereal plane, anything but this. Instead, I found myself in a confounding animated room, my head throbbing with a barrage of unanswered questions.

A panicked glance downward revealed that even my clothes had been changed. Questions clawed at my mind, each more terrifying than the last.

Had I been abducted? Drugged? And what twisted concoction had been forced into my system while I was unconscious?

Panic clawed at my chest, a frantic urgency that propelled me off the bed.

My fingers lashed out, searching for the anchor of the doorknob. But the moment my feet touched the floor, the world lurched. The ground seemed to liquefy beneath me, sending me sprawling in a bone-jarring crash.

"Ouch…"

Confusion mingled with pain as I struggled to rise, each movement feeling foreign and disjointed, as if my body were no longer my own.

Trembling, I turned my gaze downward, only to be met with a sight that sent shivers down my spine.

It wasn't just my clothes that had changed.

Dread gnawed at my gut as I hauled myself upright, the bed a flimsy anchor in this warped dreamscape. With tentative steps, I shuffled towards the imposing mirror, every inch a battle between morbid curiosity and the unknown.

And then I saw it. Dark brown eyes stared back at me with disbelief. Before me stood a figure straight out of an anime, with exaggerated features and hyper-realism.

My afro hair looked as though it had been scribbled by a child, yet retained its shape. The struggle to stand suddenly made sense, because apparently I had inexplicably grown taller and more muscular.

Gone are the days of being short and stocky. Six feet might even be an understatement at this point. My jawline, once unremarkable, has become a sharp, angular weapon, as if carved from granite. The tan that used to be mine has intensified, making me look like a completely different, more powerful person.

Even the scar on my nose, a faint reminder of childhood antics, now caught my eye. It was merely a harmless scratch from a wrestling match, often unnoticed unless closely inspected. Yet, what I beheld contradicted everything I had just described.

During my early college years, I hit the gym, packed on some size, and earned the label of being 'big' in the eyes of some, though I was more bulky than muscular. Yet, amidst the surreal backdrop of this world's peculiar style, I recognized the man in the mirror as none other than myself..

The unsettling truth? This hulking figure mirrored a character I once sketched for a RWBY fanfiction, a bizarre manifestation brought to life in this warped reality. Maybe some monstrous procedure reassembled me, limb by agonizing limb.

The horrifying realization sends a jolt of terror through me.

Considering this as a bizarre dream seemed like the only logical explanation, yet I found myself navigating it with unsettling awareness. It held the potential to become the most intense experience in my otherwise dreary existence.

The house held its breath, the silence so thick I could almost taste the dust motes dancing in a forgotten sunbeam.

Is this a good sign or bad? Every creak of the floorboards would echo like a gunshot in this suffocating quiet.

Still adapting to my sudden change in body, I shuffled tentatively, relying on nearby objects for support.

Every step felt like I was navigating a foreign landscape, my limbs moving with the gracelessness of a newborn calf. Pushing the door open cautiously, I swept my gaze across the silent room.

No signs of life met my wary eyes.

As I descended the stairs, each step felt like a giant's attempt at tiptoeing through a dollhouse. The enveloping darkness added to the eerie atmosphere, obscuring every movement. Fumbling for the light switch, I braced myself for a confrontation that never came.

The living room felt eerily empty, leaving me on edge as I cautiously made my way into the kitchen.

Still, there was no sign of anyone.

The lack of any disturbance only added to my unease. It all seemed too neat and orderly, which was highly unusual.

Kidnappers don't usually allow their captives to wander freely without keeping a close eye on them. Was this some twisted mind game?

The exit door beckoned, tempting me to flee, but despite my instinctual urge to escape, I hesitated. Instead, I retreated to the safety of the room, baffled by the unsettling situation. None of it made any sense.

As I climbed the stairs, a flood of memories rushed in.

The strange queries my computer generated, seemingly from within the visual novel game, continued to replay in my thoughts.

And then there was the mention of my real name, adding a chilling dimension to the situation.

Could this all be the handiwork of a malicious hacker? The likelihood is significant.

Did my boardmates do this? I couldn't recall any grudges against them or anyone else, though a sliver of doubt, as unsettling as the game's questions, crept in. Perhaps I'd been oblivious.

But that doesn't explain why everything appears drawn out. Drugs? It was a desperate grasp at an explanation. But shouldn't there be some effect? A fuzzy mind, or a very distorted euphoria?

Despite the warped reality, I felt...strangely okay. Well, except for the gnawing fear that clawed at my sanity.

This doesn't make any sense!

The sudden clamor from outside shattered the tense silence in the room.

My heart hammered against my ribs, urging me to investigate.

With shaky steps, I approached the window, carefully pulling back the curtains. A blinding burst of sunlight momentarily forced me to squint. But when my vision cleared, what greeted me defied explanation.

The world outside throbbed with an unnatural vibrancy, bathed in an otherworldly glow. The sky stretched endlessly above, a flawless canvas of azure dotted with impossibly fluffy clouds. Every detail seemed hyper-real, from the houses with their meticulously straight lines to the bustling streets teeming with life below.

It felt like I'd stepped into a vibrantly colored painting, a scene far too perfect to be genuine.

The sidewalk vibrated with the impact of my disbelief. Students with eyes like colossal sapphires, flawless and impossibly wide, streamed past. Their hair, a kaleidoscope of colors that mocked reality, blazed in solid blocks. Sunlight lanced through, transforming them into stained glass figurines in hyperactive motion.

Two figures stood out from the vibrant throng, like characters ripped from a storybook.

The girl, with cascading pinkish-brown hair and sapphire eyes, was instantly recognizable. A giant red bow perched atop her head, she harmonized with the crowd of uniformed students.

The boy, with dark brown hair and warm brown eyes, appeared out of sorts yet strangely familiar.

I watched, utterly speechless, as the girl animatedly drew the boy's attention. Her exaggerated gestures and energetic expressions drew curious glances from everyone around them. The boy, meanwhile, appeared caught between annoyance and resignation. He offered apologetic smiles to the onlookers while attempting to engage with the girl.

"What...what is this?" I whispered, my voice barely more than a breathy exhalation.

Even from this distance, I could decipher their emotions. It was like watching an anime come to life.

From the bizarre inquiries within a seemingly ordinary visual novel to the anime aesthetic, and now the presence of these two individuals...everything suddenly clicked into place. Lingering questions dissolved, replaced by a chilling realization.

The vibrant world outside, with its digitized colors and hyper-real perfection, felt undeniably artificial. Whether I was hallucinating or not, one thing was certain—this place held characters from Doki Doki Literature Club, or at least some of them.

There was Sayori, the embodiment of boundless cheer, radiating an effervescent demeanor despite the sadness I knew lurked beneath the surface.

Beside her stood the protagonist, his very name a mystery to me.

"His name..." I trailed off, replaced by a frantic mental whirring that made my temples throb. "What's his name?!"

The question echoed in my mind, reverberating like a haunting melody.

Was it tied to my player identity, or was something else entirely at play? My thoughts spun like a whirlwind, unable to grasp onto anything solid.

Staggering under the weight of one revelation after another, a cold dread clenched my gut with each sickening truth.

I couldn't believe my impulsive decision to click 'Yes' had somehow yanked me into the outlandish world of a visual novel. How was this even possible?

I found myself stumbling backward from the window, my breath catching in my throat.

"This can't be happening..." I whispered, the words barely audible over the frantic drumming of my heart.

My fingers trembled as I reached out, desperately searching for something familiar, anything to ground me. All I found was the cold, hard truth staring back.

With a deep breath, I steeled myself. This wasn't the time for childish denial.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I slammed my fist into my cheek, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. Pain erupted, shocking in its intensity. I recoiled, cradling my throbbing cheek, a mixture of disbelief and bemusement settling over me.

"Ouch..." I muttered, the irony dripping like bile in my throat. "Dreams don't leave bruises this real, do they?"

A cold dread settled over me, a physical weight pressing down on my chest. But amidst the fear and confusion, a spark of determination flickered to life within me. I couldn't afford to crumble now.

Not when the fate of my sanity hung in the balance.

Reality crashed over me like a tidal wave, dragging me deeper into the abyss of uncertainty.

This wasn't a dream. This was somehow real, and my grip on sanity was slipping faster than sand through my fingers.

So, this was it. Trapped in a universe overflowing with pain and sadness, the thought of finding a police station evaporated.

This situation called for a different approach, a personal investigation. I needed to find the other characters.

If this truly mirrored the game, then maybe, just maybe, I could rewrite history.

These seemingly ordinary teenagers held darkness within them, their smiles masking hidden anxieties and potential tragedies. Beneath the cheerful facade of this slice-of-life world, a cauldron of drama simmered, ready to bubble over at any moment.

And fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, unlike the protagonist, I had a glimpse into what lurked beneath the surface.

Maybe...maybe I could alter the course of events. Prevent Sayori's despair, shield Natsuki from harm, and stop Yuri's self-inflicted wounds.

And Monika...what would I do if I encountered her? Though her presence remained uncertain, my encounters with two characters already confirmed this wasn't a mere figment of my imagination.

I didn't have a concrete plan, but wallowing in fear wouldn't help. There had to be a reason I was here, a purpose to this bizarre turn of events..right?

So...where do I start? School. Pretty sure the characters went to school. But waltzing in without any connection would be a disaster.

I cast a speculative glance at the wardrobe.

"Unless..." I muttered, cautiously approaching and swinging it open.

A dry laugh escaped my lips as I saw stacks of uniforms identical to the ones worn by the students earlier, neatly folded alongside shoes, stockings, and even a bag. It was as if the universe, in a cruel twist of humor, had prepared me for this moment.

The absurdity of it all wasn't lost on me. It felt like a cliché ripped straight from a bad fanfiction, but beggars can't be choosers.

I had no idea if I was even a student here, but if the uniform was my welcome gift, then that was good enough for now.

"Wait, if hypothetically I was a student..." I mumbled, peering at the harsh red digits of the alarm clock—8:34 AM.

The students were already on their way earlier, which meant...call time was probably 8:00 AM.

Which also meant I was late.

Fantastic.

I snatched the uniform, fumbling as I wrestled into it, nearly tripping over my own two feet in the process.

Who needs a shower when you're racing against time, or possibly your sanity? If everything played out as I envisioned, then maybe, just maybe, this reckless action of mine might work.

Shoving my feet into the unfamiliar shoes, I grabbed the bag from the closet and hoisted it onto my shoulder.

Practically lunging for the door, I nearly tumbled down the stairs as my body still adjusted to this borrowed form.

Reaching the exit, I hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and flung it open, squinting against the harsh sunlight.

Not a single cloud marred the sky, yet a strange dullness hung in the air. A brisk wind tugged at my clothes, and the morning sun seemed to mock me from behind the towering buildings across the street.

Most of my life had been spent in a small town where buildings barely reached five stories high, so this urban landscape felt like something out of a movie.

Down the sidewalk, a glimpse of what looked like a school building with a simple, flat roof offered a beacon of hope. I broke into a run.

A gate stood in my way, but thankfully, it wasn't locked. Making my kidnapping theory seemed less likely by the minute, solidifying my suspicion that I was somehow part of this game.

I flung the gate open and dashed through, earning a chorus of bewildered stares from the animated people around me.

No clue where the actual school was, but amidst the sea of buildings, one stood out with an unmistakable resemblance to a high school.

Trusting my gut would have to be good enough. But first, directions.

Scanning the few scattered pedestrians, I caught sight of a few bystanders staring back with wide, incredulous eyes.

Couldn't say I faulted them for the reaction. A giant of a man in an ill-fitting uniform, sprinting down a crowded street? It wasn't exactly everyday. Getting directions here seemed about as likely as finding a winning lottery ticket on the sidewalk.

Welp, guess that's out of the question.

I kept running, a mixture of fascination and awe washing over me as I took in the sights of my surroundings. Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me onto the school grounds, and I found myself approaching the main building.

My mouth slacked slightly as I gazed up at the tall structure, impressed by its professional presentation.

Unlike any high school I'd ever seen, this one exuded an air of sophistication, its clean lines and gleaming facade a stark contrast to the red-brick buildings and worn classrooms of my hometown school.

Deciding to walk for the moment, I noted the absence of students. They were probably in class. But that realization brought another problem to the forefront of my mind.

Where were my classes? And for that matter, which classes did I even have?

As I stepped into the cool, quiet halls, a knot of uncertainty tightened in my stomach. This was just the beginning of what promised to be a long and confusing journey.

Despite my predicament, a sliver of a plan began to form. Standing around like a lost cause wouldn't solve anything. With newfound determination, I approached the main entrance.

Maybe the main office could provide a solution. Explaining my need for a class schedule in what seemed to be early spring might raise eyebrows, but I could always fabricate a story about my parents wanting a copy.

Sure, the worst-case scenario was them discovering I wasn't a student at all and calling the authorities, but fortunately, the uniform fit perfectly, offering a glimmer of hope. Still, caution remained my watchword.

My heart hammered in my chest as I approached the school office. The double doors loomed like the jaws of a giant monster, ready to snap shut and devour me if I made a wrong move.

But where else could I go? If this all went wrong, I was in big trouble.

The school vibrated with life it shouldn't have. Laughter and excited chatter, a cacophony I wouldn't have dared imagine, spilled from every door.

It was a nightmare vision compared to the sterile, deserted school of the game, where the only living souls were the protagonist and the four girls. A glitch? Or is it something far more unsettling?

The absurdity of it all bubbled up. Maybe they offered a 'Lost in Alternate Dimensions 101' pamphlet at the information desk.

A nervous chuckle escaped me, barely audible over the symphony of unfamiliar noises.

Questions swirled in my head, demanding answers, but for now, I had to focus.

With a determined stride, I made my way towards what I presumed to be the main office.

Peering through the window, I spotted a few students lounging around inside. Some wore expressions of weariness, while others seemed utterly disinterested, as if they'd rather be anywhere else than sitting in those chairs.

There are actual students existing in this place, I'm slowly doubting if this is the same game I played before.

The air crackled with a strange tension as I approached.

Every so often, I'd catch a curious glance thrown my way. Hearing them whisper, doubt nudged at me. Should I continue, or turn back? The unease gnawed at my resolve, but a flicker of determination propelled me forward.

Behind a counter-desk hybrid, an older woman, clearly a member of the administration, engaged with another student.

I stood behind them, waiting my turn. I couldn't see the student's face clearly, but her light blue hair stood out, as unconventional as the other students here. Yet, what truly caught my attention was the oversized folded construction paper clutched in her hands.

Her hands nervously crumpled the giant sheet, betraying a tremor of anxiety. The way she fumbled with it spoke volumes about her churning nerves.

"Ms. Sakura." The woman said, her voice firm with a hint of disapproval. "Looks like we have our first tardy of the year. Care to explain yourself?"

Sakura fumbled with the poster board's edge. "S-sorry, Mrs. Koto." She stammered, her voice laced with panic. "Project due today, and...well, this thing took longer than expected."

Mrs. Koto flicked a glance at the poster board. Her lips pursed into a thin line, a furrow etching itself between her brows.

"That much is evident, Ms. Sakura." She said, her voice clipped and firm. "A late pass this time, but punctuality is paramount. Consider this a warning." With a decisive tap that echoed in the silent office, she placed a slip of paper on the counter.

Sakura clutched the poster board tighter as she grabbed the slip. "Thank you, Mrs. Koto. I promise, it won't happen again." she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper that seemed to catch in her throat.

Her downcast eyes remained glued to the ground as she turned to leave, oblivious to my presence until we collided with a force that sent the poster board tumbling to the floor.

"Uwaa! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" Sakura exclaimed, her voice laced with panic. Her eyes, blown wide like overturned bowls, darted from the floor all the way up to my face in a seemingly impossible feat. Her gaze met mine. A look of pure surprise washed over her face, momentarily erasing the fluster from our collision.

With a clear view now, I saw her face with perfect clarity.

Her eyes, a startling silver-gray, mirrored a whirlwind of emotions—surprise, fear, and maybe even a flicker of awe. Standing so close, I was struck by her almost unreal quality.

A cold clarity washed over me. I was looking at a living, breathing character straight out of an anime. This had to be the closest I'd ever been to one.

Brushing aside the bizarre sensation, I managed a sheepish smile.

"Uh, no worries." I mumbled, the silence stretching between us a little too long. Bending down to retrieve the poster board, I held it out to her.

"Here..."

She didn't respond, just kept staring at me with those wide eyes.

"So tall…" She squeaked. The comment hung in the air, and I felt myself hunch over slightly under the weight of her stare. Her wide eyes, the color of a stormy sky, blinked rapidly, taking in every detail of me as if I were some fascinating specimen.

"A-Ah, I'm so sorry!" Sakura stammered, her voice laced with fluster. "T-Thank you so much!"

Then, as if a sudden gust of wind hit her, she grabbed the poster board and practically hurried past me in a flurry of blue hair and fumbling steps.

Just as she reached the door, she turned back, our eyes meeting once more. A rosy flush crept up her cheeks as she turned a delicate shade of pink, then she bolted out of the office like a startled rabbit.

I watched her go, a bewildered smile still plastered on my face.

What just happened? All I did was help her pick up her stuff.

In this strange, anime-infused world, it seemed even the simplest courtesy could be a catalyst for full-blown cute blushes and shy scurries. Maybe a crash course in social etiquette for this place wouldn't hurt.

I heard the old woman clearing her throat, grabbing my attention.

"May I help you, young man?" Mrs. Koto's voice cut through the air, straightforward and authoritative.

Alright, universe, consider this a desperate plea for good luck. Because based on my track record, the odds are about as helpful as a chocolate teapot.

No sweat. Confidence is just my middle name. Maybe not literally.

"Y-Yes." I stammered, my voice betraying my nerves. "Actually, could I trouble you for a copy of my schedule, please? And maybe...a tardy pass?" I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Mrs. Koto's scrutinizing gaze.

"You're asking for a tardy pass AND a copy of your schedule so late in the year, why?" Mrs. Koto inquired, her tone holding a hint of suspicion.

I quickly offered my prepared excuse. "A family member wanted to see it… and as for why I'm late, I'm not familiar with the area, so I was delayed more than I expected. I'm somewhat new to the residency here…"

To my surprise, a look of recognition flickered across her face.

"Ah, you must be the transfer student everyone's been talking about." She said with a smile. I blinked, momentarily speechless.

Transfer student? Me? This...this is unexpected. My mind raced, replaying the string of odd events leading here. But thinking back, it does fit. Explains a lot, actually. I'll take this chance.

Any opportunity to figure things out, any chance to understand why I'm here and who's pulling the strings, that's what I need.

"Yes, it seems so." I replied with fake certainty.

"Well alright, name?" Mrs. Koto prompted.

This was it. I squared my shoulders, ready to speak.

"I'm…"

I paused, a wave of panic crashing over me as doubts flooded my mind. What was my name in this game? Should I use my own, or the alias I'd donned for the game?

The fresh memory of the protagonist, strolling beside Sayori, triggered a familiar worry within me.

What was his name here? Should I risk using mine, or expose myself by using my player name?

The game's parting words, a cryptic whisper before I surrendered to darkness, echoed in my mind. It used my real name. A sliver of hope, sharp and unexpected, pierced through the fog of confusion.

Steeling myself for the gamble, I made a decision. I had to try.

"...Rezon." I answered, the name coming out somewhat uncertainly. "Yeah, my name is Rezon." I repeated, this time with more confidence, hoping it would be enough.

Mrs. Koto's gaze flickered with uncertainty as she studied me.

Did I use the wrong name? Was this a mistake? Her eyes scanned the computer screen, searching for answers, the rhythmic clack of the keyboard the only sound in the stifling silence.

A flicker of recognition ignited in Mrs. Koto's eyes as she met my gaze.

"Ah, It is you." She said, a hint of surprise lingering in her voice. "Wait a moment..."

Thank goodness for small favors! Holy moly, I thought I was about to become the world's most confused mugshot sensation.

The worker printed out the paper and handed it to me, along with a note. "This'll make sure the teacher doesn't question you being late. Now run along."

I didn't need to be told twice as I grabbed both papers.

"Thank you so much." I said to the older woman as she simply nodded and returned to her work. Absorbing the details on the schedule, I left the room.

As I walk, sunlight pours through the tall windows, painting geometric patterns on the polished linoleum floor.

My class is situated at the far end of the building's left wing. It's not a considerable distance, but each step feels like a mile as my heart pounds against my ribs in a frantic rhythm.

Room numbers swim before my eyes, a dizzying blur as I scan the walls. With every door that isn't 3B, panic tightens its grip on me, battling the calming mantra I repeat in my head.

Finally, a worn wooden door marked '3B' in peeling black paint appears like a beacon in the sea of my anxiety.

Relief washes over me, momentarily. I clutch the crumpled schedule, double-checking the room number with frantic eyes.

A satisfied smile tugs at my lips, but it can't reach my tense eyes. Laughter and the teacher's booming voice assault my ears from behind the door, sending a shiver down my spine.

Straightening my back, I take a shaky breath, willing my voice to steady. I rap three hesitant knocks against the worn wood.

The laughter sputters to a halt, replaced by a tense silence.

The door slides open with a hiss, revealing a middle-aged man in a rumpled blue polo and slacks. His once-black hair has retreated, leaving a shiny bald pate. Like the blue-haired student earlier, his gaze darts to my stomach before traveling upwards in surprise. The classic anime sweat-drop trickling down his temple only makes the situation funnier.

"C-Can I help you?" He stammers, his voice cracking slightly.

Welp, here goes nothing.

"Good morning, sir." I say, lowering my voice. It surprises me with its sudden gruffness, but I continue. "I'm the transfer student, and I was told to join this class. Please forgive me if I'm late."

I show him my slip and schedule as evidence. He hesitantly reaches for them, scanning the papers with furrowed brows. Slowly, his eyes widen as they flicker between me and the documents.

"No, no, it's fine. This is perfectly understandable, Mr. Escaros." He stumbled, finally returning my schedule. "Wait here for a moment, I shall inform the class first. Then, you can enter."

"Thank you, sir." I reply simply as the teacher closes the door. I strain my ears, catching snippets of his voice through the wood.

"Okay, class! As you all know, we are expecting a transfer student today, and now I'm going to introduce our new classmate." he announces. A low murmur ripples through the room like leaves rustling in the wind. "You can now come inside, Mr. Escaros."

I inhale deeply, forcing a calming breath into my lungs.

Okay, Rezon, you can do this.

Sliding open the door, I take slow, deliberate steps into the classroom for the first time. My footsteps echo in the otherwise silent room, drawing the students' attention like a magnet. Heads swivel in unison, expressions morphing into a kaleidoscope of emotions—wide-eyed awe, a flicker of apprehension, and pure, unadulterated surprise.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Rezon Escaros." I introduced myself, offering a slight bow of my head. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you. I hope we can all get along."

I expected some reaction, but I wasn't prepared for the students' unabashed honesty.

"H-He's huge!" A gasp escaped from a student near the back, drawing hushed snickers from his neighbors.

"What's his height? He's gotta be over 6 ft 5!" another student chimed in, eyes wide with disbelief.

"His arms are so big." A girl whispered, her voice barely audible over the growing murmur.

"Look at the scar on his face…" A boy muttered, his gaze lingering a little too long on the mark.

Should I be flattered? Perhaps. But was it necessary for them to blurt out their observations like a live commentary? Absolutely not. Still, I maintained a neutral expression.

"Now that introductions are done, you may sit next to Ms. Fujioka." The teacher said, pointing towards the empty seat on the left side of the room.

I simply nodded, but a knot of tension formed in my stomach as I saw who occupied the seat beside it.

Sapphire blue eyes, wide with surprise, locked with mine. A jolt of recognition shot through me as I realized who it was.

It was Sayori.

Holy smokes, it's Sayori.

Her brow furrowed slightly as if noticing my intense stare. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the movement sending a jolt through me.

My gaze darted around the room, landing on other students, some with vibrant hair colors, others with stoic expressions, but none held my attention quite like Sayori.

It was bizarre, but I knew causing a scene wouldn't do any good. Deciding it was best to avoid drawing further attention, I brushed the encounter off as a strange coincidence and walked towards the open seat next to her.

I could still hear the awed whispers of the students echoing around me. Being the center of attention in a room full of teenagers felt strange, to say the least.

Finally taking a seat, I deposited my bag beside me with a sigh. Glancing at the coral pink-haired girl next to me, I couldn't shake off the surreal feeling of being classmates with characters from this game.

Especially considering I was right next to Sayori, the protagonist's childhood friend.

The ever-cheerful one who, I knew from the game, hid a crippling depression beneath her bright smile.

Her eyes flickered towards me, and I hastily averted my gaze, not wanting to make things any more awkward than they already were.

The class unfolded as expected, the droning lessons a curious mix of intriguing and mind-numbingly dull. This went on for a while, with one teacher after another.

Desperate to stave off boredom, I peeked inside my bag. It contained only a pen and a familiar-looking notebook, now rendered in the same 2D style as everything else.

I flipped it open, expecting some message, anything, to break the monotony. Just blank pages stared back. Disappointment clawed at me, but there was no point in dwelling on it.

With a silent click, my pen sprang to life.

While drawing wasn't exactly my forte, I could crank out a decent anime character. Digital art was my usual playground, a wonderland of convenient color palettes. Traditional media, however, with its reliance on temperamental shading, felt like a foreign land.

Still, the familiar comfort of doodling in the margins was a siren song I couldn't resist.

A pang of guilt stabbed at me. Talking to Sayori had seemed like a good idea, but after making her uncomfortable for staring earlier, I was certain I'd blown my first impression.

So much for changing the game.

The blank page mocked me. What to draw? Resigned, I began sketching a random anime girl, her face bright with a cheerful wave. It felt oddly meta, drawing a 2D character within a seemingly 2D world. I chuckled internally at the irony.

I finished the drawing with a quick sketch, not my best work, but it satisfied the itch in my hand. A few more details and it would be complete—

"That looks amazing!" A bubbly voice cut through my thoughts. It was Sayori, her body leaning closer, eyes glued to the drawing. "Did you draw this?"

I couldn't help but be shocked. She spoke to me! This was my first time hearing her voice, her actual voice. The effervescent tone that I had only read in the game now filled the air around me, and it was invigorating.

This is great! An opportunity! I realized this was a chance, a real opportunity to actually befriend her. My heart raced with excitement, and I knew I had to make the most of this moment.

"Yeah, I did." I mumbled, relief washing over me as I saw the teacher completely absorbed in her lecture. Turning back to Sayori, a small smile tugged at my lips. "Do you want to take a look?"

Her eyes snapped wide with surprise, a surprised gasp escaping her lips. The way her features scrunched up in momentary astonishment, then softened into a curious smile, was undeniably cute.

"A-Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude..." she trailed off, her big, beautiful eyes filled with uncertainty.

"No problem at all, really." I reassured her, my voice softening as I raised the notebook. "Here, take a look."

She hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking the notebook. Her gaze dropped to the drawing, a mixture of awe and curiosity blooming on her features. Her fingers traced the lines, and soft murmurs of appreciation escaped her lips.

It was irresistibly adorable, the way her voice dropped to a whisper as she marveled at the details.

"Wow...this is amazing! You're so talented!" she exclaimed, her voice rising a touch above a whisper. I winced a little, stealing a glance at the teacher in front. Thankfully, she seemed engrossed in her lecture. I offered a sheepish grin.

"It's nothing special, Ms. Fujioka." I spoked in an undertone, the formality of the title feeling awkward on my tongue.

Is this place using the same cultural norms as Japan? I know this game is heavily influenced by Japan. Just to be safe, using last names seems like the way to go.

Sayori blinked, a confused frown replacing her awe. "Ms. Fujioka? Just call me Sayori, silly!"

With that, a sense of relief flooded over me. So, the social norms here weren't a perfect replica of Japan. Just the names...they were a little too similar for comfort.

"Then call me by my first name too, Sayori." I said, a casual grin accompanying my words.

"That's a weird request, but okay, Rezon!" She chirped, completely oblivious to the teacher's gaze that had now subtly shifted in our direction. A prickle of unease ran down my spine.

Perhaps we had gotten a little carried away in our conversation.

"Sayori!" The teacher's voice, firm and strict, cut through the classroom, drawing the attention of all the students to the back. I couldn't help but feel unsettled under their gaze. "Don't turn our transfer student into a chatterbox like yourself!"

"S-Sorry, Ms. Hino!" Sayori let out a sheepish laugh, her hand flying to rub the back of her head. A faint blush crept up her cheeks as she stammered.

The teacher squinted suspiciously before returning to her lecture, the students redirecting their gazes to the front of the class.

Sayori's downcast expression mirrored a pang of guilt in my own chest. I couldn't bear to see her sadness, knowing the weight it carried in the game's narrative. She deserved better. Distraction seemed like the best course of action.

So, after a while of letting the teacher's drone lull the classroom into a comfortable monotony, I decided to reach out again.

"Hey, Sayori." I whispered.

"Mhmm?" Sayori hummed, her brow furrowed in confusion as she tilted her head slightly. The single syllable hung heavy in the air, a question mark without the question.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier." I confessed. The awkward silence had stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and I couldn't bear it any longer.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Sayori's voice, laced with confusion, reached my ears. Her wide eyes held a genuine innocence that made it hard to tell. Was she truly clueless, or was she cleverly dodging the topic?

"Well..." I hesitated for a bit, unsure how to phrase what I felt. "When we made eye contact, you seemed to avoid looking at me. It felt a little strange, so I wanted to apologize."

A flicker of recognition crossed her face before a hesitant smile played on her lips. "N-no, it's fine." She reassured me. "You didn't make me uncomfortable or anything. It's just..." She trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Just what?" I prompted gently, leaning in a little closer to hear better.

"Well, you're the biggest person I've ever met." She finally admitted, tilting her head up and cupping her chin in thought. "I haven't really seen anyone outside of this town. So, seeing you was like…something out of a superhero movie."

"Is that so?" I replied, a warmth blooming in my chest at her unexpected comparison. "Honestly, with the way I'm built, the 'superhero' vibe isn't entirely off the mark. You could say I stand out here, both figuratively and literally."

I chuckled to myself, still tripping out about how they gave me the exact body from my RWBY fanfiction. Seriously, what are the odds?

"I know, right!?" She exclaimed, her enthusiasm bubbling over. I couldn't help but smile as her voice, though a little loud for the classroom, radiated pure excitement.

A quick glance towards the teacher confirmed my suspicion—we had attracted her attention.

"Sayori!" the teacher called out. I watched, neck craning slightly, as a collective gasp seemed to suck the air from the room. Every head swiveled in unison towards the back, their gazes landing squarely on me and Sayori.

Sayori's cheeks flushed a charming pink. "S-sorry, Ma'am!" She apologized sheepishly. The teacher, with a resigned sigh, resumed the lesson, and the classroom settled back into a focused murmur.

"Maybe consider keeping your voice down a notch." I teased with a gentle smile. "No offense, but I have a feeling this kind of attention follows you around."

Sayori's signature sunshine smile returned, radiating warmth. "Ahaha, you caught me red-handed!" She chirped. "I just can't help myself, you know? I get so excited to meet new people, and you seem super nice! So yeah, I'm extra thrilled to be friends."

Wow, that was really sweet. It's amazing that someone I just met would want to be friends already. Maybe I'm not as unapproachable as I thought.

A genuine smile tugged at my lips.

"Well, that's incredibly sweet of you to say." I replied. "The feeling's mutual. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better too, Sayori."

A radiant smile blossomed on her face, chasing away the lingering shadows from her eyes.

The disquiet I felt instantly dissipated, replaced by the warmth of her expression. The school day droned on, punctuated by the monotonous drone of lessons, the scrape of chairs, and the ever-growing rumble of stomachs.

Lost in the whirlwind of finally being here, a crucial detail had escaped me.

Hunger gnawed at my insides, a persistent ache that sharpened with each passing moment. My head began to swim, the realization hitting me like a ton of textbooks.

I was famished.

Here I was, completely unprepared. No lunch, no money for a snack—I'd waltzed into this situation with nothing but fervent determination fueling me.

A glance across the classroom revealed Sayori, perched in one of the front seats, her voice bubbling with laughter as she chatted with her friends. In the game, she was a beacon of sunshine, perpetually radiating warmth.

And seeing her now, it was clear the game hadn't exaggerated.

Sleep, a siren song for the next period, mocked me. I slumped forward, arms cradling my head, desperate for a nap. But my situation, a heavy weight, kept my eyes pried open despite the frantic hammering in my chest .

It was the anxiety of meeting the girl who nearly ripped the very fabric of this reality apart.

"Ugh." the sound escaped my lips, a guttural groan that mirrored the turmoil in my stomach.

A familiar voice cut through the fog. "Hey, Rezon..." I looked up to see Sayori hovering by my desk, a sheepish blush creeping across her cheeks. "Sorry, did I startle you?"

"No, not at all. Everything okay?" I replied, forcing a casual tone as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

She held out a hand, a packaged cookie bar nestled in her palm.

"I noticed you didn't have lunch, and class is about to start. So, I thought you might like this."

Damn, I must've been more obvious than I thought.

"N-no, that's really kind of you, but I'm fine." I stammered, my voice cracking.

For the first time, she pouted, a full-on anime pout complete with puffed cheeks and a downturned mouth. A warmth bloomed in my chest despite myself. It was disarming, somehow cute.

"Come on, take it, please." Sayori pleaded, her hand holding the cookie bar hovering a little too close for my comfort.

I conceded with a resigned sigh.

"Fine." I mumbled, reaching out with a hesitant hand to accept the offering. "Thanks, Sayori."

"You're welcome!" she chirped, bouncing back to her group.

I could practically feel their curious gazes burning into my back.

Bless Sayori's heart. If it weren't for her, I'm not sure how much longer I could've stomached the gnawing hunger.

With a shrug and a rumble in my stomach, I tore open the wrapper. Despite its bite-sized form compared to my frame, I devoured the cookie bar in a frenzy of sweet bits.

It was a burst of sweetness, unlike anything I'd tasted before, yet strangely familiar at the same time.

This was my first bite of food from this game, and to my surprise, it tasted real. Real enough to spark a flicker of unease.

Should I be pondering the metaphysical implications of edible code? Maybe. But for now, bigger mysteries loomed, a tangled mess of worries that gnawed at me far worse than any hunger pangs.

The monotonous drone of the lecture felt like nails on a chalkboard to my now-teenage ears. I scribbled notes, my familiar handwriting a hilarious contrast to the utterly bizarre reality of being back in a high school classroom.

De-aged or not, navigating the treacherous waters of teenage social hierarchies again held a certain morbid fascination. It was like attending a summer camp specifically designed to scar grown-ups for life.

Although, to be perfectly honest, 'grown-up' might be a generous term for my current mental state.

A hushed whisper jolted me from my musings. Sayori, her hair a halo of coral pink, leaned towards me with bright, curious eyes.

"Hey, Rezon." She murmured conspiratorially.

"Yeah?" I replied, my eyebrow quirking in amusement.

"Have you considered joining a club?" She asked, hope evident in her voice.

A flicker of curiosity danced in my eyes. Could it be?

"Not that I'm aware of." I hedged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Is there a big event happening?"

A triumphant grin spread across her face. "Today's the last day to join a cultural club!" she declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Interesting." I mused, feigning deliberation. "Maybe I'll check some out after class."

Sayori's cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

"Actually…" she stammered, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "If you wouldn't mind...you could join our club."

Bingo.

The words were like a siren song, luring me closer to the inevitable shipwreck. Internally, I did a victory dance and slammed on the brakes simultaneously. Sayori volunteering me for the Literature Club was a godsend, no more awkward club scouting for yours truly.

But the closer I got to getting tangled up with that creepy poem stuff, the more I felt like I was tempting fate with a rusty spork.

"That sounds intriguing." I replied, trying to keep my voice even. "What kind of club is it?"

A mischievous glint danced in her eyes. "The one and only Literature Club!" she announced with a flourish, glancing around to make sure the teacher wasn't watching. "And you're looking at its co-founder and current Vice President!"

The corners of my mouth quirked upwards in a genuine smile. A hint of relief softened my gaze.

"Consider me a member." I said with quiet resolve.

Sayori's jaw dropped.

"E-EHHH, REALLY!?" She squeaked, her surprise bordering on comical.

A cough from the front of the class lit a fire of nervous anticipation in my gut. The teacher's gaze swept over us momentarily before returning to his lesson. Sayori shot him a sheepish smile, and the class collectively looked away.

Leaning closer, I lowered my voice. "What's wrong?"

Sayori fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. "N-Nothing." She mumbled. "It's just...I didn't think you'd agree so readily. Literature clubs aren't exactly the coolest things around, you know?"

A pang of sympathy stabbed at me. Here she was, excited about her club, and now she worried I felt obligated.

"Listen, Sayori." I began gently, meeting her apologetic gaze. "You were the first person to actually reach out and invite me to anything. That means a lot to me." A small, sincere smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

"But you don't have to join if you don't want to…" She mumbled, her voice trailed off like a dying breeze.

My head bobbed in playful disagreement.

"Hold on a second." I cut in, a hint of amusement dancing in my eyes.

"The thing is." I leaned in a touch closer. "It turns out I do read, and I dabble in writing stories sometimes. Maybe I'm not the best, but I find them...therapeutic."

Sayori's jaw dropped, surprise blooming across her features. "Y-You do?" she squeaked.

A hint of amusement danced in my eyes. "Surprised a guy built like a brick wall reads and writes?" I teased gently.

"Y-Yeah, I'm sorry if I made any assumptions." She stammered, her cheeks flushing a light pink. "It's just not something you see every day."

"None taken." I assured her. This stereotype, it seemed, wasn't going anywhere.

"That's why the real question should be…" I said, my voice turning serious as I met her gaze head-on. "Do you really want me in your Literature Club?"

Her eyes widened for a moment before relief washed over her features.

"Of course!" She exclaimed, a wide grin splitting her face. "We'd be absolutely thrilled to have you! The Literature Club welcomes everyone with open arms, and I promise you won't regret it."

A slow warmth bloomed on my face. "I have a feeling you're right." I replied, a spark of excitement igniting within me.

A tremor of unease snaked through my gut. I knew, with a chilling certainty, where this game would lead.

Yet, a strange sense of exhilaration bubbled up alongside it. Somehow, the very mystery of where this path would lead filled me with a perverse kind of happiness.

...A happiness that thrived on the possibility of everything falling apart.

"Great! After classes, we can head to the clubroom so you can meet everyone else." She chirped.

Thank goodness this teacher seemed oblivious to Sayori's outburst. He droned on like her voice wasn't practically shattering the windows.

"Sounds good." I mumbled, trying to play it cool. "Is there anything you can tell me about the others?"

"Sure!" Her smile widened. "There's Yuri, the smartest girl in the club." I couldn't help but nod, a nervous twitch developing in my eye.

"Natsuki's our resident firecracker. Cute but fierce." Another nod, a knot forming in my stomach.

"And finally, there's Monika, our amazing club president!" Sayori said, oblivious to the panic clawing at my throat.

So she really is out there after all.

Monika. The name reverberated in my skull, a death knell confirming my darkest suspicions. This wasn't some elaborate recreation. The scent of chalk dust and well-worn textbooks filled the air, a stark contrast to the game's digital sterility.

The chattering students, the droning teacher, the creak of the old floorboards beneath my feet...everything felt terrifyingly real.

This world held more than just the club members. It was a whole new existence built around the game itself.

If Monika existed here, then maybe, just maybe, a sliver of her awareness from the original game lingered. Did she recognize me? Was I just another pawn in some twisted new reality?

"I see, I see." I mumbled, trying to appear neutral. "So, am I the only guy for now?"

Sayori averted her gaze for a moment, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

"N-not exactly." She stammered. "We have another one...we're hoping to join, soon."

A spark of curiosity ignited within me. "Sounds like there's a story there." I said gently.

She bit her lip, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her hair. "It's just...complicated." she mumbled.

Ah, there it was. That unspoken name hanging in the air. "I understand." I said, suppressing a smile. "Who is this mysterious friend?"

Sayori's eyes widened momentarily. "Oh, him? He's a really good friend." she blurted out, a touch of excitement tinging her voice. "I really, really want him to join the club! I even convinced Natsuki to bake a batch of cupcakes especially for the occasion!"

She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes pleading. "Oh no, I shouldn't have said that! Please keep it a secret, okay?"

I chuckled, touched by her enthusiasm. "Your secret's safe with me. You're putting a lot of effort into this, huh?"

Sayori let out a nervous giggle, her cheeks burning a brighter shade of pink. "Hehehe..."

Now's the moment. I need to know his name. If it aligns with my hunch, this game will take a drastic turn. My presence here, tied to my real name...it's more than a coincidence.

"So, what's his name?" I asked, leaning in slightly.

Her eyes sparkled for a moment, a mix of anticipation and trepidation swirling within them. Her posture straightened, and a hint of pride crept into her smile, as if she were introducing someone who held a special place in her heart.

Leaning closer, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "His name..." she began, pausing for dramatic effect. "

"...is Takashi."

"Takashi…" I murmured.

...

Yep, somehow I'm not surprised.

There it was. My in-game alias. A corner of my mouth quirked ever so slightly, a barely perceptible twitch. The protagonist's identity discrepancy wasn't entirely unexpected. Considering the emphasis on 'original character' during setup, a customized experience seemed plausible.

Intriguing, perhaps, but not entirely surprising. The implications, however, demanded further analysis.

"I see, I'm sure he'll join the club with you around," I said, noticing a hopeful flicker in Sayori's eyes. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You two seem to get along well."

A shy giggle escaped her lips. "Hehe, I hope so."

Classes droned on. I found myself drifting in and out of focus, occasionally jolting awake when the lecture piqued my interest. A pang of nostalgia hit me. It was eerily similar to high school.

A glance at Sayori showed me the same. Like me, she perked up during the exciting bits, doodling furiously in her notebook, a whirlwind of colorful lines and shapes blooming across the page. Otherwise, she'd gaze longingly out the window, a dreamy expression settling on her face during the teacher's more monotonous moments.

The school bell's gentle chime shattered the silence. Students shuffled out, their voices a low murmur that filled the room.

Oh boy, here goes nothing.

"Hey, Rezon!" I looked up to see Sayori beaming at me. "Ready to head out?"

"Yeah, hold on a sec." I stood up, suddenly hyperaware of my towering height. A beat of silence followed as Sayori tilted her head back to look at me, her eyes widening comically.

"Whoa, Rezon, you really are a giant!" She exclaimed, her surprise punctuated by a burst of laughter. "Do you play basketball?"

A wry smile tugged at my lips. "Not really." I admitted. "Though I shoot hoops with friends sometimes. Not exactly a pro, though."

In reality, I was average height back home–5'7. Here, I towered over everyone. Basketball was one of the few sports I knew how to play, but a lack of practice left me rusty.

"That's cool anyway." Sayori said. "Still, it must be nice being so tall. Like, seeing over everyone's heads and stuff."

I shrugged, a touch self-conscious.

"Guess so." I mumbled, following Sayori out of the classroom.

The lively school hallway buzzed with activity. Students streamed past, their eyes flitting curiously in my direction. Whispers followed us like a shadow. I tried to ignore it, focusing on keeping pace with Sayori's energetic stride.

Her short stature made her look like a firefly darting beside me, a bright contrast to my newfound lumbering gait.

"So, club first?" I asked, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the din.

"Actually." She said, scratching her head sheepishly, "There's someone I need to meet before the club."

Fantastic. Just fantastic. Another sign of the impending doom.

"This Takashi guy?" I questioned, throwing my hands up in mock confusion, a playful edge creeping into my voice.

"Yep!" she chirped, her eyes sparkling. "I gotta go see my friend before we head to the club activities."

"You must be really close to him, going out of your way like this." I prodded good-naturedly.

Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "W-Well, yeah." She faltered, a dreamy expression softening her features. "He's...important to me."

I swallowed back a playful tease. It wasn't my place just yet.

We continued walking, the whispers growing fainter as we left the crowded hallways behind. The afternoon sun cast an orange glow on the courtyard, painting the scene in a warm nostalgia. Students milled about, their laughter echoing in the air. It felt like a moment suspended in time.

"There he is!" Sayori shrieked, her finger zooming in on a figure emerging from a nearby classroom.

A student with dark brown hair shuffled out, his eyes drooping like curtains in a hurricane. A yawn escaped him, stretching wide enough to swallow a textbook.

Lo and behold, there was Takashi, looking exactly like his official game art. Brown hair, tired eyes—the whole generic slice-of-life harem protagonist package. It felt like the developers copy-pasted him from another dating sim. Perhaps his generic features are intentional—a vessel for the player's identity, or a commentary on the genre's supposedly predictable nature itself.

This development held a strange allure. It was like a bug in the system, a glitch in the carefully constructed narrative.

My gaze lingered on him, a silent question forming in my mind.

How would this pre-written character react to a world with free will?

With the grace of a runaway shopping cart, Sayori bolted towards Takashi. He blinked, sweat beading on his forehead as he spotted her.

I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. This was already getting delightfully chaotic.

"Gotcha!" Sayori beamed, puffed with pride. "Honestly, you're the last person out of class every day. You're worse than me sometimes, and that's saying something! I'm impressed."

Takashi raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have to wait for me if you were just going to be late for your own club, you know."

Sayori's smile faltered. "Well, maybe you needed a little...encouragement? You know..." Her voice trailed off.

"Know what?" He asked, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.

"To join the club!" She declared, her voice regaining its enthusiasm.

"Sayori..." Takashi started, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "There's no way I'm joining your club."

"Ehhh, you meanie!" Her face crumpled into a pout.

"Actually." he continued, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm on my way to the anime club. If you're desperate for members, I guess that means your numbers are low, huh?"

Sayori's eyes widened comically. "Ha! That's where you're wrong." she declared, her finger swiveling dramatically in a complete circle before landing with a flourish pointed right at him. "We have plenty of members! In fact, I even managed to snag a new one! See?"

She whipped her finger around, pointing it directly at me with a triumphant grin. Takashi's response was a curt scoff.

"Right, like I'd buy that." He paused, the skepticism lingering in his narrowed eyes.

A flicker of movement beyond his peripheral vision caused his gaze to dart upwards, finally landing on me. The slow sweep of his eyes spoke volume—a practiced assessment, taking in every detail.

My arrival seemed to go completely unnoticed. He was so engrossed in conversation with Sayori, it was as if I wasn't even there.

Maybe Sayori was right about the Protagonist in the game, his life lacked direction until the Literature Club. Maybe playing it cool, like a serious but easygoing dude, might work.

With a determined nod, I approached them.

"Yo." I greeted them indifferently.

"S-Sayori, isn't he..." Takashi stammered, his gaze flickering back to the pink-haired whirlwind beside him.

"Yup, that's Rezon! The transfer student I mentioned." Sayori chirped, puffing out her chest with pride. "And a brand new member of the Literature Club! Though I haven't introduced him to everyone yet. Bet you didn't see that coming, did you?"

Silence stretched, thick and tense. Takashi seemed oblivious to Sayori's words, his eyes glued to me with a mixture of apprehension and something else I couldn't quite decipher.

Sayori sighed, a hint of frustration coloring her voice.

"C'mon, Takashi..." she reached for his hand, her touch pulling his attention back to her. She unleashed her ultimate weapon-the puppy-dog eyes. "Just come by for a bit. Natsuki baked cupcakes, and everything..."

A smile tugged at my lips as I watched Sayori's plan unfold, this scene ripped straight out of the game.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Takashi finally asked, a sliver of suspicion lacing his voice.

Sayori's smile turned mischievous. "Hehehe, maybe..."

Takashi slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Fine." He conceded. "I'll stop by for a cupcake, alright?"

"Yay! Thank you so much!" Sayori squealed, throwing her arms around Takashi in a hug. It was undeniably sweet.

With a satisfied grin, Sayori skipped ahead, leaving Takashi and me to trail behind.

Looks like it's just me and Takashi...well, the game's protagonist, I should say.

Maybe I should chat with him before things get awkward.

"She's full of life." I remarked.

Takashi grunts in agreement, and we fall into step behind her.

"Sorry about her dragging you into this." He mutters. "Especially on your first day."

"No worries." I reply, a smile tugging at my lips. "Honestly, her happiness is infectious. It made me think, 'Hey, maybe the Literature Club isn't so bad if everyone's that cheerful.'"

A flicker of doubt crosses my face, a silent acknowledgment of the irony in my words.

"Yeah, I get the feeling Sayori might be the exception." Takashi mumbles. "The Literature Club isn't exactly the most popular."

"Maybe that's what makes it interesting." I counter. "Unpopular clubs can be the most hidden gems, wouldn't you agree?"

Takashi shrugs. "Maybe."

We continued walking in silence. The halls echoed with a deepening silence, broken only by the faint, wavering melody humming from Sayori's voice. Each floor we ascended was a sterile expanse of lockers and empty classrooms, a stark reminder of the school's usual bustle now absent.

It was beginning to feel uncanny similar to the game, especially as we ascended to a floor designated for third years, according to my hazy memories.

A knot of unease tightened in my gut, a cold fist clenching with every step. I glanced nervously at Takashi, but his face remained an unreadable mask, offering no hint of his thoughts.

Doubt gnawed me at the edges. We were hurtling towards the precipice, the horrifying events of the game looming over us like a monstrous hand reaching from the past, clawing at my sanity.

And she was there, the one who could hold the answers or be the catalyst to my descent into madness.

"We're here!" Sayori's shout shattered the tense silence, snapping our attention to her. With a burst of sunshine-like energy, she flung the door open. "Come on, Takashi!"

She grasped Takashi's hand, yanking him towards the entrance. He stumbled, the door swinging shut with a dull thud.

I blinked, the scene replaying for a moment in my mind. Shaking off the daze, I started towards the door, hand reaching for the knob. But then, doubt snagged me.

Was this it? Was this what I signed up for?

To become a pawn in this twisted game, a powerless savior for these people?

The thought struck me like a physical blow. My hand dropped from the doorknob, and I retreated a step, opting to become a silent observer.

"Everyone, new members are here!" Sayori's enthusiastic voice echoed down the hallway.

"I-I told you not to call me a new member!" Takashi stammered, his voice trailing off into a tense silence. He likely reeled from the suddenness of it all.

"Welcome to the Literature Club." A soft, mature voice greeted from inside. Though I couldn't place the voice, I knew damn well it belonged to Yuri, undoubtedly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Sayori always speaks very highly of you."

"Seriously? You brought a boy?" An aggressive voice, definitely Natsuki's, sliced through the air. "Way to kill the atmosphere."

"Ah, Takasi, what a nice surprise!" I flinched at the all-too-familiar voice from the game. It was none other than Monika herself. "Welcome to the club."

My grip tightened with a surge of determination. This was it. The moment I could rewrite this corrupted reality. But a wave of terror crashed over me, like icy water, freezing me in place.

Why am I hesitating?

My fingers hovered at my face, trembling with a cocktail of fear and doubt. A silent battle raged within me, hope flickering against the overwhelming tide of terror.

"What are you looking at?" I heard Natsuki speaking, probably to Takashi. "If you want to say something, spit it out."

"S-Sorry..." Takashi stammered.

"Natsuki..." Yuri's voice followed, a soothing balm against the tension. Then, I caught Natsuki's loud, dismissive huff.

As Sayori introduced him to the other members, a cold realization dawned on me. This wasn't just some dialogue written on a screen. This...This was real, this was really happening.

I was here, with the wall separating us, a physical manifestation of the invisible barrier between their world and mine.

Once the introductions finished, my feet, as if possessed by a will of their own, began to retreat.

Maybe leaving was the best option. Escape the suffocating weight of my own deception.

"Where's the other member?"

Natsuki's voice, laced with a demanding edge, cut through the nascent silence. I couldn't help but feel a cold dread seep into my bones.

"You said there were two, right? So, where's the other one?"

My foot froze in mid-step.

Oh no.

---

Author's note:

Hello again! In the first chapter, we explore our protagonist's struggle to blend into this world, despite having a body that stands out starkly against the cute setting. It's a bit of a long shot, but I'm genuinely invested in this. I'm already spending enough time on this when I should be focusing on my college studies.

Just kidding, don't mind me rambling. See you in Chapter Two, folks, where things get even more interesting! Hopefully.