I Killed The Main Characters

Chapter 42: Frustration And Confusion [4]

The highest-scoring students were destined for greatness, while the lower classes were often overlooked, especially at the beginning.

"If you landed in the S class, the academy practically rolled out the red carpet for you," Noah continued, flipping another page.

"But if you fell down to D… well, you were pretty much on your own."

As someone who was still catching up after missing two months of classes, Noah was unsure where he'd end up.

The old Noah probably wouldn't have cared, but now?

Now, he wanted at least a fair shot.

He didn't expect to land in S class—there was no way, not with how much he'd missed.

But maybe, just maybe, he could manage B or C class.

"C class would be fine," he muttered under his breath.

"B class would be even better, but it's a stretch.

I'll just have to see how well I can cram before the exams."

He sighed, scribbling a few notes as he thought it over.

"I've only got a week."

It wasn't just about placement, either.

Noah knew from the game that those in the higher classes were watched closely by the academy's leadership.

They were groomed for bigger things, given opportunities that the lower classes wouldn't even know existed.

It was a system that rewarded potential, but it also left behind those who couldn't keep up.

"Of course, the main character's going to end up in S class. That's a given," Noah said, shaking his head.

The protagonist of Beyond Horizons was always destined for greatness, and the game had made sure to emphasize that by placing them in the highest class, right from the start.

But Noah wasn't the main character here. He was just trying to survive.

"For now, I'll aim for B class. Or C class, at the very least.

That should give me enough breathing room without drawing too much attention," Noah decided, feeling a little more grounded.

He glanced at the pile of books on his desk, flipping through another one.

The knowledge crammed inside these pages would determine not only his placement but his future in the academy.

With Seraphina gone, and so many variables changed from the original storyline, Noah wasn't sure how things would play out, but one thing was certain—the academy's expectations were high.

His pen scratched across the paper as he jotted down a few more notes, the soft rustle of the pages filling the quiet room.

His mind churned with the weight of what was coming, but for now, all he could do was prepare as much as possible.

"Just get through this," Noah told himself.

"Then we'll see where things stand."

***

In the quiet elegance of her room in Silvercrest Hall, Amy Bluerose sat at her desk, surrounded by books and notes.

The grandeur of her surroundings—the ornate wallpaper, the plush velvet furniture.

The grandiose chandelier hanging above—did little to soothe the unease she felt.

She had always been focused, disciplined, and sharp, but lately, she could barely concentrate.

Her mind kept wandering, always drifting back to one thing—or rather, one person.

She folded her arms on the desk and rested her head on them, letting out a soft sigh.

The parchment in front of her was mostly blank, save for a few scattered words.

Her hand hovered over the quill, but she couldn't bring herself to write any more.

It wasn't the study material that was the problem.

She knew this.

It was him.

Noah Ashbourne.

Her mind transported her back to the Starlight Manor Incident, where she had seen him—an image that had been seared into her thoughts ever since.

He had stood there, amidst the chaos, black hair falling in messy strands over his forehead, his yellow eyes glowing in the dim light.

His face had been partially covered in ice, frost forming along his cheekbones, giving him an eerie, almost ethereal appearance.

She remembered how he had fought, how his entire body had radiated a strange, cold power.

He had looked fragile, and yet, at that moment, he had been anything but.

Amy clenched her fists, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt.

A strange warmth spread through her body every time she thought of that night, of Noah.

It was something she couldn't quite explain, a feeling that made her chest tighten and her skin flush.

Every time the memory resurfaced, it left her distracted and frustrated.

She had to focus on her studies, on preparing for the upcoming placement exams, but she couldn't get him out of her head.

"Why... why can't I stop thinking about him?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

She unbuttoned the top of her shirt, trying to cool down.

Her skin felt too warm, as though her body was reacting to something beyond her control.

Every time she remembered his yellow eyes, his cold breath forming mist in the air, that warmth intensified, flooding her senses.

"This is ridiculous," Amy muttered, shaking her head as if trying to shake off the thought of him.

She glanced back down at her notes, determined to regain her focus.

"I need to study. I have to. S-class is all that matters."

But her resolve faltered

The quill in her hand felt heavy as her mind returned to Noah once again.

She hated it—this distraction, this unwelcome sensation that had taken root in her ever since that night.

She gritted her teeth, her frustration mounting.

"I can't let this get to me. I have to be in S-class. I have to make father proud. I can't..."

Her words felt hollow, though, as if she were trying to convince herself.

No matter how many times she told herself that, the image of Noah—his cold, determined expression, the way he had stood even when it seemed impossible—kept flashing in her mind.

Each time it did, her body grew warmer, her heart raced, and her focus shattered all over again.

With another frustrated sigh, Amy leaned back in her chair, unbuttoning another button on her shirt.

She didn't understand what was happening to her, why these feelings kept creeping up whenever she thought of Noah.

All she knew was that it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

"I need to focus," she whispered again, but deep down, she knew that it was easier said than done.