Chapter 2: The Male Lead Is Still Not Worth Dying For
Lily Hart woke up with one thought echoing in her head.
I'm still alive.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains again—too bright, too perfect, too fictional. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, waiting for the familiar panic to return.
It didn't.
Instead, a strange calm settled over her.
"So this is my life now," she murmured, rolling onto her side. "A rich villainess in a comic."
She sat up slowly, half-expecting something dramatic to happen—another maid bursting in, a system notification, a prophecy.
Nothing.
Just silence and a very soft mattress.
Good.
The original Lily Hart would have jumped out of bed in excitement, heart racing because today —the male lead—again.
This Lily?
She stretched lazily.
"Alright," she said, cracking her neck. "New rules."
Rule number one: No chasing male leads.
Rule number two: No humiliating confessions.
Rule number three: Absolutely no dying.
Satisfied, she slid out of bed and walked toward the wardrobe.
The closet doors opened to reveal rows of neatly arranged clothes—designer skirts, fitted blazers, elegant dresses. The villainess wardrobe screamed rich, dramatic, and please look at me.
Lily frowned.
"…Yeah, no."
She bypassed the flashy dresses and chose a simple white blouse, a navy cardigan, and a pleated skirt that actually looked comfortable. Flat shoes instead of heels.
When she looked in the mirror again, she almost didn't recognize herself.
She looked lighter. Normal. Like a background character.
Perfect.
Downstairs, the dining table was already set. Breakfast smelled warm and inviting—toast, eggs, fruit, and coffee that looked dangerously expensive.
She sat down and ate properly.
Not rushed.
Not distracted by thoughts of Noah Blackwood.
Not rehearsing imaginary conversations.
The maid stared like she was witnessing a supernatural event.
"Miss… you're eating very well today," she said carefully.
Lily smiled politely. "I plan to survive."
The maid did not know how to respond to that.
After breakfast, a sleek black car waited outside. Lily slid into the backseat, resting her head against the window as the familiar campus came into view.
Tall gates. Green lawns. Groups of students laughing, gossiping.
This was the setting of Campus Crown Prince.
And somewhere in there—
The male lead.
The car stopped.
Lily stepped out.
And immediately felt it.
That invisible shift in atmosphere.
Whispers. Glances. The subtle excitement that always followed one person.
She sighed internally.
Right. Him.
She didn't look.
Not even when a familiar voice called her name.
"Lily."
Her steps didn't slow.
"Lily Hart."
Still nothing.
Students froze.
The air went weird.
Her best friend, Mia Brooks, grabbed her arm so fast Lily nearly stumbled. "WAIT—what are you doing?!"
Lily blinked. "Walking?"
Mia looked horrified. "That was Noah Blackwood."
"Yes," Lily said calmly. "I heard."
"…You didn't even look at him."
"That was intentional."
Mia's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "Did you hit your head or something?"
Technically, yes, Lily thought. With a car.
She finally glanced back—not dramatically, not lingering.
Just one quick, clinical look.
Noah Blackwood stood a few steps away.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. School uniform worn like it was tailored for him alone. Sharp eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and a face so annoyingly handsome it looked unfair.
Main character energy oozed from him effortlessly.
Lily assessed him the way one might evaluate a painting in a museum.
Objectively attractive, she concluded.
Emotionally hazardous.
Her gaze slid away just as quickly.
"Hmm," she murmured.
Mia leaned closer. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"
Lily adjusted her bag strap. "He's still not worth dying for."
Mia choked.
Behind them, Noah Blackwood stood frozen.
He was used to Lily Hart's eyes.
Used to the way they followed him.
Used to the desperate admiration.
Used to annoyance, anger, obsession.
But indifference?
That had never been part of the script.
He frowned, irritation bubbling up beneath the surface.
Was this another trick?
A new way to get his attention?
His gaze followed Lily's retreating figure, confusion tightening in his chest.
"…Weird," he muttered.
Lily, meanwhile, walked into the building feeling oddly victorious.
First encounter: survived.
Male lead: ignored.
Death flag: avoided—for now.
She smiled to herself.
"This," she thought, "is going to be fun."