Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins

The doorbell chimed at precisely 11:03 PM. I glanced up from the mountain of silk pillows on my king-sized bed, irritation flickering across my face.

"Enter."

The door creaked open to reveal a trembling maid with chestnut hair tied too tight. "G-Good evening, Master Crimson! I’m Masha, your personal attendant!" She thrust forward a silver tray bearing three items: a platinum wristwatch, folded black uniforms, and a blood-red "#1" badge.

I arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly does a ’personal attendant’ do?"

Masha’s cheeks flushed. "A-Appropriate services! Laundry, meals, message delivery—"

"So you’ll be washing my underwear then?" I smirked as she nearly dropped the tray. "Excellent. I hate doing laundry."

She fled before I could tease her further.

[System: You’re a special kind of terrible.]

[Me: I know.]

Next Morning - Class 1A

I arrived precisely ten minutes late. The guard who’d stopped me yesterday merely bowed.