Vija Magical Academy – Two Months Before the System Attached to Jay Sama
I’ve always believed people reveal their true selves in moments of stress.
Whether it’s a collapsing bridge, a duel, or a pop quiz—they show you who they are.
That’s how I rose to the top.
That’s how I noticed him.
No House name. No political ties. And, apparently, no will to live.
The stage was collapsing.
An upperclassman’s fire spell had ricocheted off the defensive dome. A raw explosion roared across the sky.
Most students screamed.
I still remember it. fre.ewebnov el.com
Amid the chaos, while wind and mana and heat howled, Jay was slouched on the edge of the arena, arms crossed, head tilted back, mouth slightly open like a bored cat who accidentally wandered into hell.
I remember whispering to myself:
> "He’s either an idiot... or terrifying."
I started noticing things.
He never raised his hand. Never sparred. Never showed any measurable mana flow.
He always passed just enough to stay enrolled.
No one ever saw him cast magic, but his test papers were blank and still scored higher than top-tier nobles.
A first-year tried to trip him during lunch. Slipped, shattered his own ankle, and Jay said, "Whoops," without even turning around.
That was when I started following him.
From a distance, of course. I’m a princess, not a stalker.
He was asleep again—face down on a history book titled "Magical Military Failures of the Last 400 Years."
I approached, as quietly as I could. Just... curious.
His fingers were twitching.
Not randomly—in patterns. Mana runes. Sequences so advanced even I had to blink twice.
He was dreaming of casting spells no one alive had ever recorded.
And when I leaned closer, I heard him mumble:
> "Too much effort. What if I just... don’t?"
That’s when I realized:
Jay Sama wasn’t weak. He was lazy by choice.
He was suppressing something—something massive.
A week later, there was a rumor.
Jay collapsed during a museum field trip. Some said heatstroke.
Others said system overload.
That night, his dorm window glowed blue.
The academy sensors short-circuited.
And from that day on... he stopped pretending to be harmless.
I watched him from the shadows as he yawned through lectures, dodged assassins without trying, and melted a war golem by "accidentally tripping."
Everyone else saw a joke.
I saw a storm pretending to be a nap.
And I swore to myself—
> "Whatever you are... I’ll be the first to understand it."
"And if the world turns on you—"
"—I’ll break the world first."
Deep beneath the Academy, where no student dared step and no magic reached, there was a room with no door—only a mirrored floor that reflected not your image, but your thoughts.
And at this very moment, that room—sealed for over a decade—was unlocking.
Alicia sat beside him on the academy rooftop, her legs pulled up to her chest. She stared at his sleeping face with a mixture of exhaustion, awe, and... worry.
"It’s always ," she whispered to herself. "You break the world before lunch, then nap like it never happened."
She turned to glance at the horizon. The pixel-static sky had stabilized. The Archon had left—no battle, no retreat, just... vanished. Not out of fear, but incomprehension.
Jay had done what no one else could:
He bored an administrator out of a fight.
[System Prompt: Passive Skill — "Ignore It Until It Goes Away" has reached MAX level.]
[Effect: 100% chance to invalidate enemy escalation if the host takes no emotional damage.]
But then... another prompt appeared.
[ALERT: Sealed System Vault has been breached.]
[Awakening Protocol: Dreamer-001 initializing.]
[Estimated Time Until Contact: 12 hours.]
Jay’s eyes fluttered half-open. "Twelve hours, huh?"
Alicia jumped. "You’re awake!?"
He didn’t respond. Just stared upward.
She squinted at him. "What’s a ’Dreamer-001’? That’s a system term, isn’t it?"
"A sleeper agent," Jay mumbled. "Someone like me... but worse."
"Worse?" she repeated. "How?"
Jay sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes like a child shaking off sleep after summer vacation.
"Because I’m lazy by choice." His voice was eerily calm. "They’re asleep by force."
Cut to: Unknown Chamber
In the mirrored vault, a metal capsule hissed open.
Inside lay a boy—not much older than Jay—eyes sealed shut, body floating slightly, surrounded by a blue digital haze.
> [Dreamer-001: ’Rei’]
[Status: Dreamstate Lock—RELEASING]
[Emotion Filter: OFFLINE]
[System Core: INSTALLED – Type: "The Idealist"]
[Primary Directive: Restore Balance by Eliminating the Glitch.]
The boy’s eyes snapped open.
Cold. Calculating. Empty.