Months passed in quiet, slipping by with the gentle rhythm of school life. The winter chill softened, giving way to the warmth of spring, and with it came the much-anticipated Annual Day preparations. It was a tradition that every class participated in a performance, but there was a fun twist—each class would participate in a group performance, chosen at random by drawing folded notes from a box. It was meant to be fun, a way to unite students creatively. Music, dance, drama, or comedy—all possible options. The second-year class gathered in excited anticipation, their teacher pulling out a note and reading aloud: "Drama."
Joey's gaze flicked toward Rael, who simply nodded along. He already knew. Of course, Joey knew too—from the plot. That folded note had always said 'drama.' And in the original storyline, the real drama didn't unfold on stage.
Students cheered as roles were to be decided next—another draw of luck. Characters, roles, positions. It was a chaotic, cheerful moment. Names were called, notes unfolded. When Rael stepped up and opened his note, a wave of laughter spread across the room.
"Princess?"
The class howled with amusement.
"Man, Rael, you're gonna be the prettiest royal ever," someone joked.
Joey kept his smile even. He noticed the brief tension in Rael's shoulders, but Rael only sighed and nodded, clearly used to enduring these moments.
Next came Rishi's turn. His note read: "Prince."
There was a long pause. Joey knew this exact moment from the plot. And yet, standing here, watching Rael glance—just barely—at Rishi, he wondered again: Did Rishi like Rael?
Before Joey could follow that thread further, a soft chime echoed in his mind.
[System: Host, would you like assistance with the upcoming plot derailment? I can switch Rishi's role with yours. It will cost 5 points.]
Joey's smile didn't falter, but his answer was instant: No. Keep the roles.
[System: Understood. Alternate support available. Do you need a fast-acting stomach medicine for emergency use?]
Joey's eyes glinted. Yes. Give it to me. Prepare it now.
[System: Granted. Item stored in Inventory: "Relief Pill – Instant Cure."]
He couldn't change the role, but he wouldn't let the story fall into its cruel rhythm again. Not this time.
---
Rehearsals began over the next week. The drama, based loosely on a fantasy tale, had Rael and Rishi acting in the lead roles, with Maya supporting as a knight. Joey observed quietly, noting how Rishi hovered near Rael but never spoke of that confession again. As in the original timeline, their relationship hovered in an odd in-between space—strained and unclear.
Then came the day of the performance.
Students gathered backstage, dressed in flowing costumes. Rael looked tired. There were dark shadows under his eyes, clearly signs of anxiety—or maybe slight stage fear.
Joey was nearby when it happened, watching over him with concern.
Rishi approached Rael, a juice box in hand. "Here. You look pale. This should help."
Rael blinked. "...Thanks."
He drank it, slowly.
Joey narrowed his eyes.
It was just like the original plot.
Back then, Rael had gotten a stomach ache right before the performance. In the final moments, Maya had stepped in to replace him. It had all seemed sudden—but no one questioned it. Rishi, who had given Rael the juice just before, had apologized vaguely afterward, never explaining why. And Maya? She had somehow known all of Rael's lines, without ever rehearsing with him.
His classmates believed Rael had ruined their hard work, and that if not for Maya, the performance would have been a disaster. They praised her quick thinking, and Rishi's calmness in crisis. No one ever asked how Maya had known so much. And Rael—he was left to bear the blame. Isolated. Whispers behind his back. Subtle bullying that turned more blatant over time. Meanwhile, Rishi and Maya's images as kind, composed classmates remained untarnished, even though they continued hanging out with him as if nothing had happened.
But now Joey was here.
And he wouldn't let that twisted story play out again.
---
Rael's face paled. His hand went to his stomach.
"I—I think something's wrong," he muttered.
The teacher rushed over. "What? Are you okay?"
When panic filled the room and no one knew what to do, Rishi stepped forward, calm and composed. "If Rael can't perform, we can't delay the program. What if Maya takes his role? She's already in a supporting role—it's easier to adapt, and the knight has no lines."
Joey's gaze sharpened.
Some students agreed immediately, but a few looked unsure. One girl murmured, "But… how would Maya know Rael's lines?"
"She helped him rehearse," Rishi replied smoothly.
Joey cleared his throat. "Actually… Rael always rehearsed with me. Maya wasn't there."
A boy frowned. "Yeah. I never saw Maya with him."
Rael looked up slowly, eyes narrowing.
Rishi looked flustered. "A-at home. She helped him rehearse at home, right, Rael?"
He looked toward Rael with an apologetic smile, pleading silently.
"…Yes," Rael said at last, though his voice was low, his gaze cold and disappointed.
The moment hung in silence.
Joey gently stepped forward and took Rael's arm. "Come on. You're not out yet."
He led Rael down a quiet hallway.
"You need to trust me," he said softly, pulling out a small capsule. "Take this."
Rael stared at the pill. "What is it?"
"Special supplement. Old family thing. You'll be okay, promise."
Rael didn't hesitate long. He took it and swallowed.
The change was nearly instant. His features relaxed, tension melting from his body.
"That wasn't a regular pill," Rael said quietly.
Joey looked away. "Just a strong vitamin. Or something. Totally legit."
"You're lying."
Joey smiled. "Maybe. But it worked, didn't it?"
Rael didn't press further.
---
When they returned, Rael walked tall in his costume. The teacher blinked in surprise.
"I thought—"
"I'm fine now," Rael said firmly. "I'll perform."
Rishi said nothing but his invasive eyes betrayed him. Maya, already half in costume, awkwardly stepped aside.
The performance began.
And this time, it was perfect.
Rael shone under the lights. His voice rang clear, his presence regal. Rishi fumbled a few times, clearly shaken. Joey, from the side stage, watched with pride.
The audience cheered.
After the curtain fell, Rael turned to Joey and whispered, "Thank you."
Joey grinned. "Always, Your Highness."
Rael smiled. Small. But real.
This time, the story bent—not to fate, but to Joey's will.