Chapter 1 – How to Ruin a Perfectly Good Revenge Arc

My name is Ryuuji Sato, and my life is a masterpiece of deception.

To the NPCs populating Northgate High, I was a ghost.

I was the quiet guy in the back of the class, a human loading screen who faded into the beige lockers the second the bell rang. I was background noise.

That was the point.

For two glorious years, I had meticulously crafted this persona, brick by boring brick.

It was all for a single, magnificent purpose.

I was engineering my own revenge arc.

The plan was a work of art, ripped from the sacred texts of the best isekai.

Phase one: establish a reputation as a kind but utterly forgettable loner. Check.

I’d anonymously done homework for half the soccer team and left cheat sheets for people I’d never even spoken to. It wasn’t kindness. It was method acting.

Phase two: get summoned to another world with my classmates. This part required a bit of faith in the cosmos, but I was all in.

Phase three: get betrayed. Left for dead in a dungeon, scorned by the hero, and rejected by the girl I was supposed to have a crush on.

The grand finale? I’d crawl out of the darkness, impossibly powerful, with a harem of cool monster girls and a legit reason to be salty.

It was beautiful.

It was perfect.

Today, the air in calculus crackled with Main Character Energy.

Mr. Henderson was droning on about derivatives, but his voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel.

A faint, white light began to bleed into the corners of my vision.

It grew brighter, washing out the math posters and the terminally bored faces of my classmates. My desk felt cold under my hands. Then it felt like nothing at all.

This is it. It’s finally happening.

The world dissolved into a blaze of pure, silent white.

I blinked, and the worn linoleum of the classroom was gone. In its place was a floor so white and seamless it felt like standing on a cloud inside an Apple Store.

The space had no corners, no ceiling, just an endless, milky expanse.

The pilot episode was officially underway.

Three other cast members materialized beside me.

First, there was Kenji Tanaka, the Golden Boy. Student body president, soccer captain, and owner of a smile that could probably cure minor illnesses.

Of course, he was here. He was the designated Hero, practically glowing with protagonist privilege.

Next to him stood Reina Inoue, the school idol. She was looking more confused than I’d ever seen her, which was perfect for her role as the Designated Love Interest who would inevitably betray me for the Hero. Classic.

And bringing up the rear was Daisuke, a guy from the kendo club who mostly just grunted. The Strong, Silent Type. He’d probably get a tragic backstory in chapter fifty before making a noble sacrifice.

Predictable.

The perfect hero party. And I was the designated loser, ready for my close-up.

A woman appeared before us, shimmering into existence like a heat haze on asphalt.

She was legit stunning, with silver hair that floated around her head and eyes the color of liquid gold.

A goddess, no doubt.

My heart hammered against my ribs, not from fear, but from pure, unadulterated hype.

It was all going according to plan.

“Welcome, people from another world.”

Her voice was like music, but held the distinct, weary tone of someone on their fifth straight hour of conference calls.

She glided toward us, her bare feet making no sound on the pristine floor. She examined Kenji, then Reina, then Daisuke, with the polite, detached interest of a celestial HR manager reviewing new hires.

Then her golden eyes landed on me.

“You are the chosen heroes destined to save our world from the encroaching darkness.”

Yes. Lay it on thick, lady. Give me the full spiel before you kick me to the curb.

“But first, I must conduct an appraisal. I need to see your innate potential.”

This was it. My moment to shine. Or, more accurately, to not shine at all.

I had to look as weak and useless as humanly possible.

I slumped my shoulders and tried to make my eyes wide and pathetic. I even forced a little tremor into my hands, channeling every under-leveled RPG character I had ever seen.

I was going for maximum disappointment. I needed her to throw me away.

“I… I don’t think I should be here.”

I pitched my voice to quiver, aiming for peak uselessness. It was a masterful performance.

“I’m not strong, or brave. I think there’s been a mistake.”

The goddess tilted her head. She floated closer, her gaze intensifying.

I braced myself for the scorn, the pity, the divine rejection I had dreamed of for two years.

Send me to a dungeon, lady. Do it now. Make me the tragic hero I was born to be.

A strange smile touched her lips.

It wasn’t a smile of disappointment. It was a quick, sharp grin, there and gone in an instant. A flicker of something that looked suspiciously like triumph.

That was weird. The script didn’t call for a happy goddess. She was supposed to be annoyed that a dud like me got pulled through the portal, not look like she just won the lottery.

“I see.”

Her musical voice was now flat. Clinical.

She raised a hand, and a pane of light, like a tablet made of glass, materialized in front of her. Swirls of golden text scrolled across its surface as she looked at me, though her eyes barely seemed to register the information.

She was just going through the motions.

“Your assessment is complete.”

She waved a dismissive hand, and the screen vanished.

“Unfortunately, you will have to leave the group.”

Bingo.

My soul did a victory lap. It was happening. It was really, truly happening.

The humiliation. The banishment. The first crucial step on my road to ultimate power and revenge.

My future was so bright I needed shades. A dark, edgy future full of suffering and eventual domination.

“You do not belong here.”

The goddess raised her hand toward me. A sphere of crackling, black energy formed in her palm. It looked like a miniature black hole, pulsing with the promise of a one-way trip to a forgotten labyrinth full of high-level mobs.

This was the catalyst. This was the moment my boring life ended and my epic began.

Everything was perfect.

“I won’t let you.”

A voice cut through the silence.

I turned. Kenji Tanaka, the guy with the perfect teeth and an even more perfect hero-complex, had stepped forward. He placed himself directly between me and the goddess, his arms spread wide in a protective stance.

His expression was firm, a look of righteous defiance on his stupidly handsome face.

“You will not send Ryuuji anywhere.”

The goddess blinked, her serene composure finally cracking. The ball of dark energy in her hand wavered, then fizzled out like a sad firework.

She looked from Kenji’s determined face to my own stunned expression.

The air grew thick with an awkward tension.

My plan. My perfect, beautiful, meticulously crafted plan.

What the hell did this NPC think he was doing?

He was going off script.