Akira Tajima, a high school student, was utterly captivated by a novel titled "Magic Revolution." It wasn't the plot scrawled in black ink that hooked him, nor the ultra-cool main character, but one particular heroine he had waifu'd to the moon and back: Alise Antoinette Seraphim. He adored her tsundere side—sharp on the outside, but oh-so-sweet and stunning underneath. His dreams were perpetually graced by the character named Alise.
"If only I could jump into that world and become the MC, I'd marry her in a heartbeat... Hehe," Akira fantasized, a small smile flickering across his face before fading just as quickly.
Even so, he felt a twinge of disappointment because the novel ended on a cliffhanger that left him slack-jawed when he reached the final page.
"What the heck is with this hanging ending? Man, I'm gutted!" Akira tossed the book onto the bed in frustration that defied description.
A long, heavy sigh escaped him.
"All I wanted was to see my waifu in some romantic situations."
The morning atmosphere was no different from the days before. The sky slowly turned blue, a thin mist still cloaking the old buildings on the city's outskirts. In the distance, the academy's towers stood firm, like silent guardians to a world hiding its own dark secrets.
Akira sat on the edge of Chester's luxurious bed, his eyes staring blankly at the wooden floor that creaked slightly under touch.
He'd long stopped counting how many times he'd woken to the same morning. The same window, the same whisper of wind, the same faint clinking of the iron fence outside as it trembled with every breeze.
Last night... last night had unfolded as usual. He'd disguised himself as Chester, gone to the academy, met Alise, heard their plans about the café, and then everything reset.
He'd tried sleeping early. He'd tried sleeping late. He'd even tried not sleeping at all.
But every time his eyelids closed, the same morning awaited.
And now, that odd feeling had morphed into a darker unease.
Something was trapping him here.
And most disturbingly, he didn't know why.
—
His steps were slow as he descended the grand staircase of the house. Each footfall echoed through the empty corridors. The grand home, which should have felt warm, instead resembled an abandoned family mausoleum.
"Chester!"
That voice again, greeting him before he could reach the front door.
His father stood there in the same robe, with the same gaze, the same heavy breath.
Akira remained silent. He glanced at the man briefly before turning away, pretending to inspect something outside the window.
His father stared at him for a long moment.
That look made Akira turn back, but he held his ground. If Chester's father sensed any change, he'd be in hot water.
"I'm bored."
That was all the response he gave before stepping out.
And once more, the same carriage, the same roads, the same city.
It all felt scripted, like a play on repeat.
"This morning feels off," he muttered softly as the carriage rumbled along the cobblestone path.
Finally, he arrived at the academy. The students' footsteps, their voices, their laughter—all replaying like a tape looped endlessly.
And in that moment, as he stepped into the main courtyard, that voice greeted him again
"Disgusting!"
Akira turned quickly.
Alise stood there, flanked by her two friends. The tone, the hand gestures—everything identical to the first time.
But this time, Akira didn't move. He didn't retort. He didn't play Chester's role as before.
He just stared deeply at Alise.
And for a split second, time seemed to freeze.
"What are you staring at?" Alise frowned, a bit puzzled by the uncharacteristic response.
Akira returned the gaze, silent as a statue. He made no reaction or move to bother Alise.
In his mind, he was searching for a way to shatter this script.
And if that meant defying the story's flow, so be it.
Anything was better than being stuck in this never-ending day.
The moment stretched on.
Alise still stood with her dissatisfied glare, her two friends at her side. Other students watched from afar. Some whispered, others pretended not to notice.
Akira—or more precisely, 'Chester'—took a deep breath.
Stay calm. Don't rush. If you break Chester's character too suddenly, everyone will smell a rat.
He forced his lips into a cynical smirk, something fitting Chester's style.
"Hmph. What's got you so riled up this early, noble princess? Didn't get enough beauty sleep?"
The tone was lazy. A bit flat. Delivered in clipped words, like the Chester he remembered from the novel's pages.
Alise's reaction? Identical to yesterday.
She turned her face away with a loud huff.
"Tch!"
With that, her friends began pulling her away, whispering something. Alise acted like she didn't care, but her expression held a hint of tension—perhaps from anger, perhaps from awkwardness.
But to Akira, it was all a carbon copy of before.
"'If I follow the script, everything moves as usual...'" he whispered to himself.
He knew one thing: as long as he kept playing Chester according to the story, this world would proceed like a memorized manuscript.
And if he wanted to unravel the mystery of this loop...
He'd have to seek its source beyond the 'written' tale.
The day unfolded as usual. Classes, magic lectures, the library... all in sequence. Every step through the corridors brought faces he'd seen a hundred times. The sound of footsteps, the breeze from slightly open windows—everything a duplicate of a world on endless replay.
And in the quiet corner of the library, Akira sat alone. Tall bookshelves loomed around him, the scent of old paper permeating the air.
He surveyed his surroundings with a calm yet confused gaze. Beneath it, his mind churned with the unexplained loop. And he remembered one thing... The novel he'd read, this scenario—it wasn't in any published volume, as if it were an unwritten world left incomplete.
"Why am I in this world... and in Chester's body?"
Afternoon arrived once more.
The sky turned golden, small birds flitting low over the academy's rooftops. As students began heading home, that voice reached Akira's ears again.
"So, we're heading straight to the White Candle Café this afternoon, right? I heard they just added caramel cake to the weekly menu."
"I'm in! It's been ages since we hung out outside the academy. Plus, the weather's perfect."
Alise smiled, serene and simple. "I'll tag along. I'm tired of staring at magic books anyway."
Bursts of laughter accompanied their steps as they moved out of the academy grounds.
That voice. The same intonation. The exact word order.
And in that instant, a wild idea popped into Akira's head.
What if I let this scenario play out? What happens if I allow everything to unfold as originally intended?
What he didn't know—or perhaps hadn't fully realized yet.
This loop wasn't happening because he'd messed up.
The loop was occurring because something was resisting the story's progression.
And maybe, that 'something' was waiting for the right moment... to reveal itself.
Night fell, and like the night before, Akira returned home. The silence was the same. Dim magic lamps flickered in the corridor corners. His father was off somewhere, perhaps on academy business he couldn't care less about.
In his room, Akira sat on the bed's edge, staring blankly at an empty book's page.
"I follow the script, I relive the same day... but the answer hasn't surfaced."
He gazed out the window. The sky was dotted with dim stars, as if the heavens themselves were weary of watching it all.
"Tomorrow... I'll try changing something."
With that, he closed his eyes.
And before he knew it—
Morning.
"Chester! Get ready—"
That voice.
That atmosphere.
The same scent of bed linens.
Akira smiled thinly, but anxiety danced behind his eyes.
"Alright. Let's try breaking this stupid story."
That morning, when his father's voice knocked on the door with those all-too-familiar words, Akira didn't get up right away.
"Chester! Get ready. You need to attend early today."
Silence.
No response from within.
His father waited a few seconds, perhaps expecting the usual snarky reply. But when none came, the sound of heavy footsteps faded down the outer corridor. Quiet enveloped the room once more.
On the bed, Akira lay staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.
"If everything moves according to the script, I want to see what happens if I break a major one—I won't go to the academy today."
He sat up slowly, his fingers raking through his messy black hair. His mind worked overtime, piecing together possibilities. If this world truly operated on the 'story' he'd read before, skipping Chester's appearance at the academy should alter a 'key scene.'
But the question was—
Would this world really let him do that?
Or would it 'force' the plot back on track?
—
He walked to the side table and picked up a sheet of paper.
"If Chester doesn't go to the academy, what's a plausible excuse?"
He pondered for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"Chester Kerl... son of the academy's headmaster. The guy who loves stirring up trouble. If he skips, the most believable reason is 'laziness.'"
Quickly, he scribbled a few words on the paper.
"I'm not going to the academy today. Feeling lazy. You know I'm no model student."
Then he placed the note on the living room table, where his father or a servant would surely see it.
Done. Now the experiment began.
That day, for the first time since waking in this world, Akira didn't leave the house.
He sat in the grand living room chair, gazing out the window. Sunlight streamed in slowly, painting the wooden floor in golden reflections. Yet the house's atmosphere remained eerily quiet. Servants passed by occasionally, but none dared address Chester directly.
In the midst of it all, just him and his swirling thoughts.
Bored? Not quite.
More like anxious, on pins and needles.
"If this were a normal world, my actions should have an impact," he whispered softly.
Afternoon approached. Small birds perched on the outer iron fence, the sky shifting to orange gradients.
Akira stood, stepping to the window. His eyes scanned the distant city. The academy was there, its white peaks visible with a blue flag fluttering lazily.
And then...
In one corner of the cobblestone street, he caught a glimpse of bright blonde hair he knew well.
Alise.
Walking with her two friends.
Even from afar, Alise's faint laughter reached him vaguely... just like every day before.
And more importantly—
Their direction... heading to the café again.
Akira clenched his fists slowly.
"I didn't go to the academy... but the story still moves forward?"
A heavy thump echoed in his chest.
"No... there's something else."
Night descended.
The house was silent. Servants avoided him, whether by his father's orders or due to Chester's notorious troublemaking reputation. Only the ticking of an old clock in the wall corner filled the void.
Akira stood by the window, gazing at the dark night sky.
"I didn't change anything after all... I skipped the academy, but... the main plot keeps rolling."
He gritted his teeth.
"That means the loop's cause isn't me. But them. Maybe?"
Then, Alise's disgusted expression toward him flashed in his mind.
"Alise."
He slept that night with a chest full of questions. His thoughts spun, assembling all he knew about the novel, the plots he remembered, the characters moving like actors on a stage.
He wanted to know if the loop was because of him, or because of the story's heroine?
As expected, the next morning.
The door knock. His father's voice.
"Chester! Get ready. We'll be leaving soon."
Akira rose slowly, no longer surprised.
He stared out the window.
"No point dodging it. I have to face this story head-on."
If he wanted answers... he needed to go to that café. Tonight. With his own eyes.
The next day, like a ritual whose rhythm he knew by heart, Akira got out of bed slowly. He wasn't rushed, nor lazy. Just steady steps, full of planning.
"Alright... today I'll follow your script again, Chester. But don't think I'll keep playing this foolish game."
As soon as he descended to the living room, Chester's father was waiting as usual.
"You're late."
The voice wasn't angry. More disappointed. Chester's father had long given up hoping his son would turn over a new leaf like the other students. But this morning, the man's gaze was slightly different. Like a hint of confusion lurked behind his eyes.
"...as if it's anything new," Akira replied curtly, in the lazy tone he imagined Chester always used.
Without much talk, they boarded the carriage. The interior was quiet. Only the creaking wheels and the horse's heavy breaths.
Yet Akira stole glances at Chester's father's face. There were old lines at the corners of his eyes, like years of unspoken burdens. The weight of harboring a problem child in the academy he himself led.
His steps at the academy were as usual—lazy strides full of swagger, shoulders slightly slouched, the gait of someone who couldn't care less about anyone. The other students' looks hadn't changed. Disgust. Annoyance. More disgust.
"Ah, the academy's trash is here again," whispered one male student from the left group.
"Let him be. Even if we fight, no one's brave enough to touch him. Daddy's boy."
Akira heard it all. But he just flashed a thin smile.
It was all in the script. Same as yesterday. Same as before.
But one thing he realized now: they all moved within the story's bounds. No one thought outside the script except him.
And as usual—
"Disgusting!"
That voice, like a heartbeat reminding him where he was.
Before him stood Alise Antoinette Seraphim, in her neat academy uniform. Her blonde hair gleamed under the morning sun. Her two friends loyally at her side, like shadow guards.
Alise's face? Still full of loathing.
Akira tilted his head slightly, feigning laziness like Chester.
"I guess I'll be here until you stop caring about me."
"Idiot!" Alise hissed, looking away. Her cheeks flushed slightly—whether from anger or embarrassment, Akira wasn't sure.
Her friends began whispering, trying to calm her.
But Akira stayed silent. He hadn't come to spark trouble like the usual Chester. He'd come to find what was 'wrong' in this story.
And in that moment, an idea struck.
He needed to approach Alise, not as Chester... but as himself. But gradually. Too fast, and he'd blow his chance.
That day, throughout classes—Akira still mimicked Chester's carefree style, pretending to doze at his desk, feigning boredom during magic lectures and aristocratic sorcery theory. But this time, his eyes observed every reaction, every distant movement from Alise, every conversation that could lead to the café.
And finally, dismissal time.
In the academy's main hallway—
"So, we're heading straight to the White Candle Café this afternoon, right? I heard they just added caramel cake to the weekly menu."
"I'm in! It's been ages since we hung out outside the academy. Plus, the weather's perfect."
Alise smiled, serene and simple. "I'll tag along. I'm tired of staring at magic books anyway."
Bursts of laughter accompanied their steps as they moved out of the academy grounds.
That voice.
That atmosphere.
Same.
Like a scratched record playing on loop.
But this time, Akira had a plan.
He'd go to the café.
Stealthily.
And perhaps, there, the first answer to the loop awaited.