Chapter 1

I transmigrated into a cannon-fodder extra, and the System immediately slapped me with a mission: seduce and win over the second male lead—the resident peacock of the school.

The problem? I’d been emotionally tone-deaf since childhood. All I could do was stand there, blink dumbly, and watch him try to toy with me the way he toyed with all his other prey.

"Guess where the rose is?"

He held a red rose behind his back, looking down at me with an effortless, honeyed smirk.

Host, in a moment like this, all you have to do is act shy! Look down and blush!

Right. Shy. Got it.

I offered a timid little smile, raised my hand, and let my fingers graze the shell of his ear before drawing back.

"I guess..."

A split second later, a gorgeous, fresh red rose materialized out of thin air between my fingertips.

"It’s right here."

The air went dead silent for two full seconds.

The rich boy's face flushed a violent, incandescent red.

01

The System buzzed in my ear with a violent screech of static, sounding as though its motherboard had just fried on the spot.

I held the rose out toward Parker Hayes.

"For you."

Parker stood there, completely forgetting to hide the blossom he was holding behind his back.

He’d probably flirted with half the girls at Westfield High, but this was undoubtedly the first time anyone had ever turned the tables and flirted back with pure sleight of hand.

After a few excruciating seconds, he ran a hand through his wavy brown hair, desperate to reclaim his swagger.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice slightly raspy.

He pulled the rose out from behind his back and offered it to me, those bedroom hazel eyes flickering with a dangerous, practiced charm.

"An even trade."

I shook my head, took his rose, tapped the two stems together, and with a swift flick of my fingers, bound them into a single, seamless stem.

I deposited both blossoms right back into his palm.

"You can have both."

Evidently not expecting a phase two to the trick, Parker froze, entirely disarmed.

"Why?"

The fried System finally rebooted in my head, screeching in panic:

Host! You have to be coy! Play hard to get! That’s the only way to hook a guy like Parker!

Coy?

Understood.

The System was telling me not to be clingy, and definitely not to force him into liking me.

So I took a respectful step back, looked him dead in the eye, and said, "Because I like you."

The System: ???

Then, to substantiate my premise with absolute logical rigor, I added placidly, "So all the pretty roses belong to you."

If human mortification could take physical form, steam would have been whistling out of Parker’s ears right about then.

He gripped the stems so hard his knuckles turned white. Without a single word, he spun on his heel and bolted.

Watching the furious crimson tinting the tips of his ears, I asked internally, "System, did I handle that correctly?"

The System paused for a very long time before muttering:

...That was an absolute god-tier play. I have no notes.

02

In my previous life, I was a professional escape artist. I died inside a padlocked water tank under blinding stage lights because of a mechanical failure and a crew member's split-second blunder.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in this world.

Even though I’d been saddled with a mission to pursue the second male lead and secure a happily-ever-after, getting a second shot at life—and getting to perform magic again—was more than enough for me.

The next few days of pursuing Parker were actually quite fun.

The System’s playbook was simple: bring him breakfast every day and shower him with constant, attentive care.

I followed the instructions to the letter.

"Parker, I brought you breakfast."

I sat in the desk right in front of him and placed a single, perfectly smooth hard-boiled egg on his wooden desk.

Parker stared down at the egg. Clearly, his bruised ego from the other day was still smarting. He let out a cold, defensive sneer:

"You bring someone breakfast and it’s a plain, unpeeled egg? Who am I, a shelter case?"

"What do you usually like to eat?" I asked plainly.

Parker threw out the first absurd thing that came to mind: "A New York bagel. Toasted, extra scallion cream cheese."

I swept my right hand lightly over the egg. In a blink, a warm, fragrant sesame bagel materialized directly beside it.

Parker’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"I—I meant an iced latte!" he blurted out.

Another pass of my palm. The bagel vanished, replaced instantly by a sweating plastic cup of iced latte with a straw.

"Holy shit... I meant a warm blueberry muffin! Fresh from the bakery!"

This time, I didn't wave my hand.

Seeing that I’d finally hit a wall, Parker leaned back in his chair with a smug, self-satisfied smirk.

"What's the matter? Can't pull that off with your little street magic tricks?"

I nodded honestly.

"If you really want a warm muffin, Parker, I can run down to the bakery on the corner and buy one for you right now."

The smirk vanished from his face instantly.

He sat up straight, his gaze darting away in flustered embarrassment.

"Bring the bagel back."

With a flick of my wrist, the sesame bagel rested neatly on his desk once more.

"This is plenty. Who told you to go running around buying stuff? You’re annoying."

I looked at the bright red creeping up his ears and smiled.

Host, didn't you actually have an emergency muffin in your backpack?

I answered in my mind:

The soul of magic is to deliver surprise and delight, not to humiliate someone in a battle of petty pride.

03

After tailing Parker for a few weeks, Westfield High held its first major standardized midterm examinations of the semester.

When the monthly Honor Roll and GPA rankings were pinned to the main hallway bulletin board, Parker looked like a thundercloud ready to burst.

He didn't utter a word of complaint, but he coldly pushed away the breakfast sandwich I offered him.

I looked up at the names at the very top of the bulletin board:

Rank 1: Julian Cole.

Rank 2: Parker Hayes.

The male lead and second male lead have always been bitter rivals, the System chimed in. They fight for the top spot academically, and emotionally, Parker is the female lead's childhood friend—yet he stands zero chance against the brooding, untouchable Julian.

I nodded slowly. The System had already briefed me: Clara Brooks, the original female lead, would soon transfer here specifically to chase Julian.

In the original plotline, Parker’s obsession with Clara derailed his academic focus completely. He never beat Julian again.

After high school, Parker shipped off to Europe to remake himself into a cutthroat corporate titan, hoping to return and win Clara back.

But by the time he returned, Clara and Julian had already tied the knot in a high-society wedding.

He remained unmarried for the rest of his life, pulling dirty strings behind the scenes in desperate attempts to drive a wedge between them. He became the textbook definition of the bitter, toxic second lead who ruined himself for unrequited love.

The main couple’s bond proved unbreakable. Clara eventually cut him off entirely, shattering what was left of his heart. Parker spiraled into chronic depression, and despite inheriting his family’s billion-dollar conglomerate, the relentless emotional torment wore him down into an early grave.

I extracted two fundamental takeaways from this tragedy:

One: Confidence is vital. I needed to rebuild Parker's self-esteem.

Two: Joy is paramount. I had to keep Parker happy.

I found Parker ditching class, sprawled on a weathered bench beneath a massive oak tree behind the athletic fields.

Hearing my footsteps, he squeezed his eyes shut and snapped, "I'm in a foul mood. Don't bother me."

04

Without saying a word, I sat down quietly on the opposite end of the wooden bench.

Then, I slipped a small, clear glass bottle with a black screw cap out of my jacket pocket.

"Parker, let me teach you a trick."

Parker opened his eyes, scowling, clearly about to tell me to get lost.

Until he saw me give the little bottle a sharp flick of the wrist. The single die sitting inside exploded into a dozen miniature dice right before his eyes.

His gaze was instantly hooked.

"There’s a false chamber in the black cap," I explained, unscrewing it. "The spare die sits here, and the miniature dice are nested inside the rim."

Parker caught on to the mechanism and gave a subtle, reluctant nod.

I reset the gimmick, screwed the cap back on tight, and offered it to him.

"Give it a try."

Parker took it hesitantly. "Just a shake?"

"Just one."

Parker gripped the bottle and gave it a firm shake.

Inside, the die hadn't shattered into mini dice. Instead, it had transformed into a piece of gold-foil-wrapped toffee.

Parker’s hand twitched violently.

He avoided my gaze entirely, staring down at the bottle as he awkwardly picked at the candy wrapper, muttering under his breath:

"What’s the point of messing around with these childish—"

The moment the wrapper unfolded, his voice died in his throat.

Tucked inside was a tiny strip of paper. On it was written in neat, steady handwriting: You will always be number one in my book.

The trick was my design; the note was a joint effort between me and the System.

Host, do you think he’s going to break down and sob from sheer gratitude?

Before I could reply, the System began blubbering in my ear:

Forget him, I'm the one crying! Wahhh, this is too soft!

Ignoring the bizarre synthesized sobbing in my head, I calmly unwrapped the breakfast sandwich Parker had rejected earlier and took a bite.

As it turned out, the peacock had weathered enough social storms to keep his composure.

He dropped his head, clutching the paper slip and the candy into his palm so hard his knuckles trembled.

Then he stood up, moving with the stiff, jerky mechanics of a rusted marionette, and strode toward the academic building.

"Parker?"

I jogged after him. "Where are you going?"

"Do you ever stop nagging?!" His breathing was ragged, his eyes darting frantically in every direction except toward me. "Where do you think I’m going? Back to class to study, obviously!"

With that, he took a giant sidestep to put three feet of space between us.

"And stop trying to hit on me. I don’t date in high school. Period."

I paused, asking the System in my head, "Has Parker really never had a girlfriend?"

Affirmative, Host. Parker strictly abides by the playboy code: all flirtation, zero commitment.

"So he’s what people call a player?"

Well, technically yes, but he’s never actually crossed any real lines. The most he’s ever done is a casual arm around someone’s waist at a party. The guy hasn't even had his first kiss... Whatever, he’s still a menace.

I nodded in agreement.

When I first arrived in this world, Parker had only flirted with me out of sheer boredom.

Yet lately... I studied the tall, retreating silhouette ahead of me.

He hadn't spoken to any of the cheerleaders or high-society girls in weeks.

"Why the sudden change?" I asked the System.

Probably because you kept uno-reversing his flirty games, the System reasoned. You gave his fragile playboy ego an existential crisis.

I nodded solemnly once more.

"My mistake."

05

"Hi everyone, I’m Clara Brooks. I’m really excited to be here, and I hope we can all be great friends."

At the front of the classroom, the transferred female lead was delivering her self-introduction.

I glanced beside me. Parker had stopped writing; his pen hovered motionless over his notebook as he stared intently at Clara on the podium.

Meanwhile, Clara’s gaze bypassed the entire room, locking straight onto Julian Cole, who sat in the first row by the door.

And Julian, sitting in the front row, suddenly lifted his head, looked across the entire classroom, and met my eyes.

Me: ?

Host! Break eye contact! Abort! Love triangle collision detected!

Startled, I moved to look away.

"Who are you staring at?"

Parker’s voice drifted over, thick with a venomous, quiet edge.

I turned back. He was twirling his pen, his hazel eyes narrowed into slits as they drilled into my face.

Quick on my feet, I blurted out, "Checking if the hall monitor is doing rounds outside."

To sell the lie, I slid a deck of Bicycle cards from my desk and executed a seamless, one-handed cut.

"Didn't want to get caught playing with cards in class."

Parker’s attention was instantly derailed by the flashy dexterity of my fingers. His tone softened despite himself.

"Teach me that cut after class."

I nodded. "Deal."

For some reason, during that split-second interaction with Julian, my heart had skipped an odd beat.

Having grown accustomed to life-and-death stakes on stage, it had been a very long time since I felt that sort of electric tension.

Once Clara settled in, Parker ended up bickering with her constantly.

Because Clara’s desk was situated diagonally in front of him, their hushed banter was practically a soundtrack to our lectures.

"Parker, help me out with the last calculus problem on the worksheet."

"Are you brain-dead? It’s a basic derivative. Take it away, don’t waste my study time."

I looked down at the AP English Literature practice test on my desk. Half of the essay prompts were blank; I hadn't the faintest idea how to analyze the allegorical subtext of nineteenth-century poetry.

Looks like the prince charming detests dumb girls, the System noted grimly.

I agreed wholeheartedly and let out a quiet sigh.

Naturally, the moment the bell rang, Parker reached over and snatched my test right off my desk.

He stared down at the sea of white space, his brows knitting together. "Why is this blank?"

"I don't get it," I confessed. "I don't know the answers."

Just as I was debating whether an apology was in order, Parker dragged his chair over.

"Which one don't you get?"

Wait, what?

I pointed lamely at question number one on the multiple-choice section.

Parker pulled his chair right up against mine, so close that the crisp scent of his cedarwood cologne wrapped around me.

"Missing this one is completely understandable," he began, his voice surprisingly patient. "The phrasing is unnecessarily obtuse. Look here, all you have to do is identify the underlying metaphor..."

He launched into an earnest, thorough breakdown of a basic vocabulary question. Watching his profile lean in so close that his shoulder brushed mine, my palms grew embarrassingly clammy.

Was it really "understandable"? It was literally a definition question.

The System sighed in my head: I take back what I said about him hating dumb girls.

06

Childhood friends were childhood friends after all.

Parker looked out for Clara in countless little ways, and occasionally, Clara brought him fancy bakery snacks.

Whenever Clara brought him food, Parker refused the breakfast I handed him, muttering under his breath:

"Keep it for yourself. You barely eat as it is. Look at you—a strong gust of wind could snap you in half."

What a waste, the System lamented. You stayed up half the night practicing that new coin transposition routine.

I took a bite of my smoked ham sandwich and shook my head quietly.

"It’s fine."

Courting someone was an incremental process; a professional illusionist possessed infinite patience.

The sandwich tasted great, anyway.

Still...

Deep down in my chest, a faint, dull ache stirred.

Just a tiny bit.

"Hey, Chloe! Parker told me you’re an incredible magician!"

During lunch, Clara turned around in her seat, resting her chin on her hands with an eager, sunny grin.

I blinked, momentarily thrown, then nodded.

"Could you show me a trick? Parker showed off a coin vanity vanish at a party last week and bragged that you taught it to him personally."

Before I could process her words, Parker reached over, snagged the hood of Clara’s sweater, and yanked her backward.

"Why are you bothering her? Go back to your locker."

"Let go of me, Parker! I just wanted to see a trick, stop being such a jerk!"

Parker scowled, his gaze instinctively flicking toward me.

I offered a gentle smile. "It’s really no trouble."

I stood up and pulled a plain yellow rubber band from my blazer pocket.

I asked Clara to hold out her index finger.

I looped the band securely around her finger, then stretched it across and looped it around my own.

Our fingertips touched lightly.

With my free hand, I gave a sharp, theatrical tug—

The rubber band seemed to melt straight through our flesh and bone, coming away completely intact in my hand.

Clara gasped, her eyes wide with shock. But before she could speak, my hand fluttered like a butterfly’s wing.

The rubber band dissolved into thin air. In its place rested a brightly wrapped gourmet lollipop.

I offered the candy to her with a warm smile, meeting her eyes.

Clara clapped both hands over her bright red cheeks, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Oh my gosh... thank you! Chloe, you are the coolest person alive!"

The warning bell rang, and an enchanted Clara was practically herded back to her seat by a stony-faced Parker.

07

When the final bell chimed, I was just zipping up my backpack when a large, elegant hand slammed down onto my desk.

I looked up to find Parker glaring down at me, his voice low and laced with accusation:

"Why did you go out of your way to do a trick for Clara?"

He searched my face relentlessly, refusing to miss a single micro-expression.

"Don't you feel even a little bit jealous seeing me with her?"

The System immediately began screaming tactical advice in my ear:

Host! In a critical drama scenario like this, you must display the magnanimous, unbothered grace of a true queen!

Got it. Crystal clear.

I looked up into his eyes and said with absolute sincerity, "You like her. If making her happy brings you joy, then I’m happy to do it."

Parker looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. He froze, utterly paralyzed.

He dropped his head into his hands with a groan, then looked back at me, his jaw clenched tight.

"Chloe... are you genuinely brain-dead? Are you playing dumb, or are you actually this clueless?"

Seeing the raw, overwhelmed emotion welling in his eyes, I congratulated myself on executing the System's plan flawlessly.

"I don't have feelings for her!" Parker blurted out, desperate to clear the air. "Our families have been business associates since before we were born! Our parents practically ordered me to make sure she didn't get lost on her first week here!"

He cleared his throat, his gaze drifting away awkwardly.

"...Is there anything you want from me? As payback?"

I tilted my head. "Payback?"

"A gift! A favor! Whatever!" Parker snapped, his ears turning red. "Parker Hayes doesn't take charity, and I'm not going to let you sit there feeling like a martyr for free."

Truth be told, Parker had already gifted me an absurd amount of things.

He frequently bought extra high-end stationery or limited-edition merch in the city, casually tossing them onto my desk with excuses like, "Bought an extra by mistake, it's taking up too much room in my bag."

Once, he tossed me a custom, gold-gilded deck of commemorative playing cards. When I looked it up later, it was an auction piece valued at over two thousand dollars.

The System was screaming at a fever pitch:

Golden opportunity, Host! Escalate physical intimacy! Do not fumble this!

I weighed the options carefully.

Looking up into Parker’s eyes, I asked, "Can I ask for anything?"

Parker shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to maintain an aloof posture. "Yeah. A Hayes keeps his word."

I spoke softly: "Can I hold your hand?"

Parker went completely rigid. His Adam's apple bobbed violently, and he jerked his head to the side, his entire face burning.

Just when I assumed my bold request had been denied, a warm, long-fingered hand reached across the desk, trembling ever so slightly.

My eyes curved into a genuine smile. "Thank you."

Then, with extreme restraint, I reached out and gently hooked my index finger around his.

...

After delivering that "gift," Parker seemed to have suffered a mild stroke. He could barely string a sentence together without stammering.

Even so, he stubbornly clung to his sacred "no dating in high school" rule like a monk clutching a vow of chastity.

"D-Dating... don't even think about it. I... I don't do serious relationships before college."

He looked down at me, an undeniable flicker of desperate hope dancing in his hazel eyes.

I understood. He was clearly looking for reassurance—he needed to know I wouldn't pressure him.

So I gave him a firm, solemn nod.

"Okay. I promise I won't try to make you date me."

Parker’s posture instantly deflated like a punctured tire.

I asked the System what happened, and it threw up its virtual hands: Don't look at me, human psychology is a mess. Maybe his blood sugar crashed.

I nodded sympathetically.

The light salad Clara had packed him really didn't have enough calories for an active teenage boy.

08

For the class president's birthday, a private karaoke lounge in the downtown district was booked for our social circle.

The guest list naturally included me, Parker, Clara, and Julian.

After the cake was cut, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Parker scoffed, calling it childish, and retreated to a leather booth in the corner with a drink. Clara slipped away to the restroom.

I agreed to play.

To everyone's absolute shock, the usually aloof Julian Cole pulled out a chair and joined the circle.

Watching the reclusive, ice-cold valedictorian take part in an ordinary teenage drinking game sent an electric ripple through the room.

What I didn't expect was that on the very first round, I drew the answer card, and Julian held the question.

In the dim shadows of the corner booth, Parker’s silhouette shifted forward.

"Truth," I stated simply.

Julian’s long lashes lifted. His piercing, stormy-gray eyes locked onto mine, his voice smooth and measured:

"Do you currently have someone you like?"

The rowdy chatter in the lounge vanished instantly into dead silence.

The suffocating quiet wasn't just because of the intrusive question, but because the person asking it was the untouchable Julian Cole.

In the dark corner, the ice in Parker’s glass rattled against the rim.

I thought about it for a few seconds.

If I answered "yes" in front of this crowd, the next immediate question would be "who?"

That would put immense social pressure on Parker, a boy who had explicitly declared he would never date anyone in high school.

So I looked Julian in the eye and said, "No."

Crash!

In the corner, Parker stood up so violently his glass slammed against the wooden table.

I turned in surprise just in time to see his jaw clenched tight, glaring at me with an expression of pure fury before he whipped around and slammed the lounge door behind him.

Several classmates exchanged bewildered looks and ran out after him. I moved to stand up to follow—

"Next round," Julian's cool, even voice cut through the air.

His fingers shuffled the cards with fluid precision, dealing the next hand.

The game continued under a cloud of stifling tension.