Chapter 2

I have never once in my life suffered from a mental illness. Though I did experience depression at one point, the kind of mental illness I’m referring to involves seeing strange messages floating in my vision.

Every time I took a bite of meat, the message “[Goodwill towards the target has increased (1/100)]” kept popping up, exacerbating my already confused state of mind.

Gradually, the frequency of these floating messages decreased until they stopped altogether. But what could this possibly mean?

Since the message pertained to increasing goodwill, I figured it must be related to a romantic visual novel (VN). Although I’ve played a few visual novels, I’ve never been so obsessed with them that it led to a mental illness.

Therefore, there was no particular reason why I should be seeing something like this—messages that seemed oddly related to a romantic VN.

Of course, I did briefly wonder if I had somehow gained the ability to charm women like a protagonist in a VN…

Huh!

A sudden, lightning-fast realization struck me with such force that I was left gasping.

—Could it be that I’m seeing these hallucinations because I share something in common with protagonists of romantic VNs: the knack for charming women?

It’s incredible how being too skilled at something can become a curse.

I can’t stand myself, being such a sinful man.

Just as I was unable to close my mouth due to the overwhelming truth that left me breathless, a wrap filled with meat was suddenly shoved into my mouth.

The juices of the meat coated my throat smoothly, while the crisp lettuce provided a refreshing aftertaste that made the experience truly satisfying.

The sauce held everything together beautifully, making this not just an ordinary wrap—it was truly a work of art.

When I made one myself and ate it, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one the girl had prepared.

To put it simply, it felt like the difference between an ordinary wrap and one crafted by someone extremely talented.

According to the hallucinations, this girl was labeled as a “heroine,” possessing a mysterious ability called “Influence.” But if she truly had a special ability, shouldn’t it be her cooking talent that deserved recognition, rather than something as vague as “Influence”?

“Could you make me another one?”

“Sure, anytime.”

Despite following what appeared to be the exact same steps, the result of her wrap-making was undeniably divine.

After taking another bite of the wrap she had prepared, I confirmed to myself internally—

Perhaps the words floating above her head were not clues to explain my bizarre situation but rather ordinary symptoms of hallucinations, caused by my apparent loss of sanity.

Even if these visions were hallucinations, the situation wouldn’t change much.

It was true that something was off with my body.

It was true that I had woken up somewhere strange.

It was true that I was seeing strange things, and it was true that the person before me was showing an unnatural level of friendliness toward me.

Frankly, the scenario might have been much simpler if these messages were actually a system interface from a game, rather than mere hallucinations.

Every game has an end. If this world is indeed a romantic VN, then I must be the protagonist.

If I could flaunt my charm without hesitation, I might just conquer all the heroines and achieve the true ending.

“So, as always, my wraps are the best, huh?”

Perhaps noticing a pause in my eating, the girl leaned forward with her palms cupping her chin, and asked somewhat intimidatingly.

She’s a heroine, isn’t she?

Unlike the goodwill increase messages that appeared briefly, her name, ability, and role remained consistently hovering above her head.

She was a secondary heroine.

In romantic VNs, only women with extraordinary abilities and unmatched beauty who have yet to find love qualify as heroines. Thus, this girl was undeniably qualified to bear that title.

Her crimson eyes seemed unreal and mysterious. Her hair, with hints of emerald green in its black strands, and a face that even current celebrities would envy—it was hard to believe she was real.

Considering that the wraps she made tasted so incredibly good, it was clear that she was no ordinary person but the world’s favored heroine.

She was the person who could likely resolve some of the questions I was harboring.

Instead of struggling alone with whether these were hallucinations or not, it would be simpler to ask her directly.

Before fully understanding the situation, I tried to limit my speech to avoid unintentionally making things difficult for my new self. Still, this one question might help resolve some of my doubts.

“Can I ask you one thing?”

“Of course, we’re close friends. Just ask freely. We’ve already been speaking casually, haven’t we?”

An indication that we were supposed to be comfortable with each other after sharing a meal.

I regretted doubting her for even a moment, given her values and genuine kindness.

Still, the situation was confusing, and I needed to clarify some key points.

“Why was the CCTV installed in the hallway?”

“Obviously, because I’m worried about you.”

She was concerned about me even before we shared the meal?

Noticing that her crimson eyes momentarily glanced at my wrist, my gaze instinctively followed.

Since I had been drawn to the smell of the meat during my exploration of the room, I hadn’t had a chance to examine my body closely. Even if I had noticed any changes, I had purposefully ignored them.

That’s why, when I saw the marks on my wrist, I understood the meaning of the CCTV.

This was a form of survival check.

Not installed to prevent someone from leaving, but rather to ensure that if someone didn’t leave, others would come looking.

The self-harm scars on my wrist were far deeper and more chaotic than the ones I had made in my previous life. Such scars could not be replicated by simply taking hormones.

Though I had a vague idea about this “body,” seeing the evidence directly filled me with a mix of bitterness and absurdity.

Then came the obvious question.

“What kind of relationship do we have?”

This raised another doubt. Even if this body had received treatment for mental illness or female hormone injections, it seemed unlikely that these measures were to prevent self-harm. It made more sense to place safety measures inside the room or in the bathroom, not in the hallway.

Everything seemed disordered and chaotic.

Interrupting my query, she handed me another wrap, providing her answer.

“We’ve been childhood friends since we were seven… And we’re lovers!”

[Goodwill towards Inna has increased (20/100) – Reached the first-stage cap. The counterpart knows the self-harm keyword to unlock the first-stage cap. First-stage cap unlocked. Goodwill can now increase up to 40.]

[Warning. Warning. Warning. Be cautious. If your goodwill towards her reaches 100, you will be forever trapped in this world.]

[This is the first character to exceed a goodwill level of 20. You can now view the profile of Inna, the counterpart who has unlocked the first stage.]

[Heroine’s Name – Inna.]

[We’ve known each other since we were seven years old. For some reason, our paths diverged, but now she naturally visits your home while your parents are on a distant business trip. She believes you’re pretending to have lost your memory to deny an incident that occurred at school, and is confused about your newfound love for grilled meat. She’s decided to bring more next time.]

[Inna’s strategy to approach you includes gaslighting via influence, ostracizing you through influence, and her specialty: cooking. Beware.]

The profile provided information on how the counterpart would “approach” me, rather than how I could approach her. And it declared that reaching 100 goodwill would trap me forever in this world.

Slowly, I began to grasp the situation.

I wasn’t abducted.

I wasn’t mentally ill—not in the typical sense, anyway.

If I was indeed mentally ill, and if this reality was indistinguishable from the illness, then it would be better to go along with the world’s rules instead of denying them.

It would be far easier to accept this reality now, rather than regret it later if I discovered this was the world I had to live in.

The reason I could so easily accept such an absurd situation was that all the events I had previously experienced in life had been sudden and unexpected.

“We’re not lovers, and why are you inside my house?”

Not entirely sure how much of the profile to trust, I had no choice but to rely on this system that kept insisting this world was a romantic VN if I wanted to escape.

“Of course, it’s a joke, right? My teacher told me you absolutely have to come tomorrow, and I thought you might be hungry, so I decided to bring some food. You always enjoyed my grilled meat, didn’t you?”

Fortunately, Inna reacted positively, confirming rather than denying my words based on her profile.

“Only today. I just felt like having some grilled meat.”

Was this the right thing to say?

Trying to mimic the personality of this body’s original owner, I spoke without much thought, yet the girl’s expression seemed peculiar, as if I had said something strange.

“…Oh, well, if that’s what you prefer. Are you staying here longer while I clean up?”

“No, I’m going upstairs.”

“Alright. I’ll wash the dishes and leave. You have to come out tomorrow, though—I’ll be waiting outside your house.”

Imitating an incredibly rude and shameless person who takes advantage of others’ kindness by expecting them to cook and clean for me.

For someone who used to be a well-mannered gentleman, this behavior was particularly challenging—but it seemed familiar to Inna, as she took it in stride.

The incident that supposedly happened at school.

The event that caused this body’s owner and Inna to drift apart.

Though I still don’t fully understand what type of world this is, apart from it being a romantic VN, it seemed as though this body had already caused some trouble.

Even the first sub-heroine I encountered, who had shared the grilled meat with me and was quite kind, had some subtle but irritating traits that I couldn’t quite pinpoint yet. Nevertheless, given the already perplexing situation, I decided to retreat to a room upstairs as she had suggested.

As much as I enjoyed the food, cleaning up afterward was too much trouble.