"Creeaak~~"
The heavy wooden doors slowly opened.
Professor Minerva McGonagall—Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and Transfiguration professor—led the group of first-years into the Great Hall in a neat line.
Under the gaze of students from other years, they marched straight to the front of the hall.
As they passed through the hall, Orsaga spotted a familiar face among the older students sitting at the house tables—Penelope.
When he noticed her waving at him, Orsaga lazily raised a hand in return.
It was a casual greeting at best.
Seeing their exchange, the girl sitting next to Penelope leaned in with curiosity.
"Do you know that first-year?"
Penelope replied calmly,
"We sat in the same compartment on the train."
The girl tugged her sleeve, pleading,
"Then introduce me, please!. He's so handsome~~"
Fresh meat is always tempting—and she was ready to pounce.
"…"
Penelope turned her head, a bit helpless in the face of her friend's shameless enthusiasm.
She could only explain,
"We're not really close. I just know his name is Orsaga."
Truthfully, her friend wasn't the only one eyeing him.
When the first-years walked into the hall, nearly ninety percent of the upperclassmen's eyes landed directly on Orsaga.
His aura was simply too striking.
Even while standing in the crowd, he stood out like a beacon.
Everyone else around him faded into the background—reduced to nameless NPCs: Background Character A, Background Character B…
For a moment,
Even Harry Potter, the much-discussed "Boy Who Lived," was entirely overshadowed.
After all, when you've got a real-life heartthrob standing there, who cares about some kid with glasses and a forehead scar?
The whole "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" story? That was years ago. Whatever. Who even cared anymore?
Harry was left completely in the dust—reduced to a side character in his own legend.
He, however, remained blissfully unaware, not yet realizing what his supposed "main character" status even meant.
But the Purgators—those who did know the original plot—were a different story.
They were fuming with envy.
"Same newbie mission world, yet he gets the spotlight while we're stuck crawling through shadows…"
"I need to find a way to kill this guy…"
Many of them began nurturing this kind of bitter, jealous hatred.
Meanwhile, Orsaga just gave a sleepy yawn as he eyed the banquet tables.
Good food.
And just in time—he was feeling hungry.
---
Once they reached the front of the hall, McGonagall turned to the new students.
"Please wait here. Before we begin the Sorting Ceremony, Headmaster Dumbledore would like to say a few words."
A white-bearded old man in glasses rose from his seat and delivered a brief speech, outlining the important school rules and what to expect.
As the man spoke, Orsaga silently assessed him.
Decent magical power.
At the very least, far superior to the many weaklings here who couldn't even properly control their mana.
Other than Dumbledore, there was only one other person worth noting: a man hiding under a head wrap, clearly nervous and withdrawn.
Inside his body were two distinctly different magical signatures—though unimpressive in combination, one of them belonged to a major story boss.
Once Dumbledore finished, McGonagall stepped forward holding what looked like a rather shabby pointed hat.
"Now, when I call your name, please come forward.
I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will determine your house. First up—Hermione Granger."
The blonde girl beside Orsaga hadn't expected to be called first.
She flinched in surprise, muttering under her breath:
'No—okay, don't panic… You've got this…"
She hesitantly walked up to McGonagall.
Orsaga, recognizing the name, recalled that this was the girl who had been looking for a toad on the train.
The name sounded familiar, so he subconsciously glanced at the secondary mission list—or rather, the bounty list—provided by the Matrix Purgatory.
Sure enough, near the bottom of the list, there it was:
Hermione Granger – 500 Reward Points
"Huh… that cheap?"
"Must be a side character."
Orsaga didn't know all the details of the first book's plot, only the rough outline. He figured she had some significance, but nothing worth dwelling on.
The other Purgators, however, paid very close attention to Hermione.
They weren't put off by the low reward. In fact, that just made her more appealing.
Compared to Harry, who was constantly monitored by Dumbledore and Snape, and Ron Weasley, who—though poorer—still had pure-blood lineage and institutional backing, Hermione was an easy target: a muggle-born girl with no powerful connections.
Her death could easily be disguised as an accident.
Still, there was a problem.
In this world, Plot Armor was very real.
As a true "Child of Destiny," Hermione was cloaked in invisible protection from fate itself.
Unless someone had overwhelming strength, any Purgator who tried to make a move on her risked a major backfire due to unexplained coincidences and narrative interventions.
In other words, high risk, inconsistent reward—a bad gamble.
Of course, if someone like Orsaga were to just nuke the whole world, plot armor wouldn't really matter.
When you flip the entire game board, the rules on the board stop applying.
"Gryffindor!"
The Sorting Hat shouted.
Hermione, who had been visibly nervous, beamed with relief and took off the hat.
It wasn't that she had any deep loyalty to Gryffindor—in truth, she didn't even understand the differences between the four houses.
Her earlier anxiety was simply fear of being declared "unfit" or "unsuitable."
Now that the deed was done, she was all smiles.
Next:
"Draco Malfoy!"
McGonagall continued reading from the list.
And so time ticked by, names called one after another.
"Zhao Xiang!"
Upon hearing McGonagall butcher his real-world Chinese name, one particular Purgator stepped forward with a face full of regret.
"Damn you, Matrix Purgatory…"
The other hidden Purgators all turned their loving, murderous gazes his way—mentally calculating the best way to eliminate him.
In the Matrix Purgatory, aside from their numerical designations, Purgators were required to set an alias.
That alias would determine how the system named them in various mission worlds.
Many opted to use their real names, for good reason.
Otherwise, when someone in the story world shouts your title like "EdgyMaster69" or "ShadowBanditXx," it's beyond cringe. It's like being an alien caught walking around in cosplay.
Thanks to these unfortunate naming choices, several more Purgators were also outed on the spot.
Then came the name:
"Orsaga."
McGonagall read it aloud.
Orsaga rose calmly and walked to the front.
He had no idea what the four houses actually stood for, but for now… he was mildly curious.
Seeing the composed boy standing before her, McGonagall—normally strict and stern—actually gave a rare smile.
Handsome people always get special treatment.
The Sorting Hat was placed firmly on his head.
Everyone's attention shifted toward him.
They were eager to know which house the handsome newcomer would be placed in.
Especially the girls.
But the Sorting Hat… had other ideas.
As a magical object infused with sentience, the hat was designed to read the surface-level emotions of whoever wore it.
It could analyze feelings like joy, anger, sorrow, and fear to determine a person's core nature and assign them accordingly.
However—
The moment it touched Orsaga's head, it was overwhelmed by a wave of unfiltered malice, and a suffocating flood of emotional pain.
Within a single second, the hat nearly died on the spot.
"AZKABAN!! SOMEONE SEND HIM TO AZKABAN!! IMMEDIATELY!! RIGHT NOW!!"
It screamed with everything it had.
Then, in front of everyone's stunned faces, the Sorting Hat launched itself off his head like a rocket, rolled across the floor, and tried to make a run for it.
Orsaga remained completely unfazed by the outburst.
He just stood there, expression calm, thinking:
'Azkaban?, Which house is that?, Is it some kind of secret elite house?"
'The fifth house out of four. I get it now—just like how the Four Heavenly Kings always end up with a hidden fifth member!. As expected of me…'
_____
T/N:
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