Under Glen’s personal guidance, Xanthia arrived at the lowest tier of the observation ptform on the west side of the school’s main pyground. Just a few steps up, she spotted Dematero, steeped in solitary mencholy.

  At this time, the main pyground was alive with activity. Many students were running around and pying football, filling the air with noise and excitement.

  On this half-day break on a weekend afternoon, they could indulge in football without restraint, unlike during physical education or other csses, where time always seemed too short to satisfy their enthusiasm.

  Among the football enthusiasts in Css Three, Sunny was especially engaged and as for his change of sports- no one knows. Naturally, he dragged his buddy Makarios—often called “Fatty Makarios”—to join him.

  Makarios wasn’t particurly fond of sports, but one position on the field suited him perfectly: goalkeeper.

  His role was more of a pose than a performance; he often leaned against the goalpost, absorbed in his phone. This left him frequently embarrassed by opponents scoring with spectacur long shots. However, since the matches were informal, everyone just ughed it off.

  Sunny, on the other hand, was a skilled dribbler who naturally gravitated toward the forward position. Unfortunately, his finishing was disastrous—his ball control was overly tight, often leading him to dribble himself into a corner or completely miss his shots.

  Sunny found this new game more exhirating than pying solo!

  Newcomers to the game were often awed by Sunny’s dribbling and ball sense, only to ter realize his selfish pying style made him a "bck hole" on the field. Once the ball reached him, it rarely left unless it was through an attempted shot. Sunny confidently defended his approach, ciming that since others couldn’t hold onto the ball, it was better for him to handle it himself.

  Sunny’s obsession with “football treasures” was remarkable, to say the least.

  “Dematero is up there. I won’t go over,” Glen said to Xanthia. “As his best friend, I know him too well. No matter what I do, I just can’t lift his spirits.”

  Unlike the sensitive Dematero, Glen was calm and rational by nature.

  He had a deep interest in philosophy and owned a telescope at home, enjoying stargazing as a pastime. Romantic retionships held no appeal to him—he considered love to be nothing more than a reproductive instinct.

  To Glen, love’s essence was the surrender of free will.

  As a result, he couldn’t empathize with Dematero’s heartbreak. Even when he offered comfort, it felt hollow and disconnected.

  His sorrow and joy were fundamentally incompatible with Dematero’s.

  “So, do you think I can help him?” Xanthia asked.

  “You’re a girl, so your thoughts are naturally more nuanced. You’re better than Elena in every way. This is a good opportunity to step in and erase his misguided feelings once and for all,” Glen replied casually, adjusting his gsses.

  “In matters of the heart, there’s no absolute right or wrong,” Xanthia countered.

  “But how can there not be? Elena isn’t the kind of girl who can be won over by sincerity alone. Liking her is simply a mistake.”

  “Then what makes me any different from Elena? Are you trying to guide him from one mistake to another?” Xanthia asked.

  In truth, she believed she was even harder to approach than Elena. Xanthia was a pure hedonist, a pyer in the truest sense, determined to keep her “Wisdom Root” intact. To her, being moved emotionally was out of the question.

  Prudent hearts didn’t fall in love.

  For those who idolized her, this was a blessing. They never had to fear their angel falling from her pedestal or being taken away.

  Glen fell silent. Perhaps girls really weren’t swayed by sincere efforts. Love, he thought, was a dark and tangled forest—one he wanted no part of. Philosophy was his sanctuary, and he resolved to slip away.

  “Anyway, I’m counting on you,” he said, before leaving.

  Despite his outward detachment, Glen still believed Xanthia was different from Elena. She was unique. Where others had failed to pull Dematero from his despair, perhaps she would succeed.

  Glen’s request carried a sense of desperation, a willingness to try anything, even a long shot. Yet he remained pessimistic. He feared Dematero’s heartbreak might ruin his entire high school experience.

  One shouldn’t underestimate the impact of a failed first love on a freshman just beginning to navigate the world of emotions.

  Time might heal emotional wounds, but it would also rob precious opportunities for academic success. A promising future could dim before it even began.

  It wasn’t until much ter, with maturity, that one might understand: there are many good people in the world. Why fixate on just one?

  A man with a successful career and achievements would never ck admirers. In the end, personal growth and strength mattered most.

  Glen had come to accept this truth.

  ...

  Meanwhile, Dematero had spiraled into complete despair.

  Initially, he had resolved to study harder, improve his grades, and prove himself during the upcoming midterms. He thought that maintaining strong academic performance would make him “worthy” of Elena.

  But Elena had told him he cked a sense of security.

  What exactly was a “sense of security”? Money? Power? Dematero couldn’t understand.

  What high school student in a cndestine romance would think about such things?

  In his despair, Dematero felt his academic success was meaningless. What was the point of being a top student if he was already disillusioned?

  He decided to dedicate himself to writing. Words, he believed, would never betray him.

  Seeing Dematero in such a state, Xanthia was deeply unsettled. His eyes were bloodshot, and his gaze vacant, filled with despair. He stared into the distance like a lifeless statue.

  He needed to change for the better.

  The Dematero she remembered was warm, gentle, and kind-hearted. He had always been considerate and supportive, even defending Xanthia from criticism.

  “Dematero, what are you doing here?” Xanthia greeted him, trying to sound cheerful.

  Dematero gave no response, retreating further into his darkness.

  Xanthia now understood why Dionysius had struggled with this same issue. Communication seemed impossible.

  “Dematero, I’ve been learning to py the ukulele tely. Let me sing you a song—‘Accidentally in Love.’”

  She began to strum and sing, though her real goal was far more strategic. Through music, she initiated a pn to employ “fighting poison with poison,” using the disposable system item: simuted rebirth memory.

  In the false memory she was about to impnt, she set her own role as “Heroine.” But to deliver the maximum emotional impact, this heroine would meet a tragic end during her brightest years.

  The system executed her design fwlessly.

  The result? A devastating surge of pain coins.

  Dematero’s first mission after his “rebirth” would be to save Xanthia from her supposed fate. The heartbreak over Elena would pale in comparison.

  ShoujoDirector