Quoted By:
[isekai, school, romance, harem]
Your new bedroom is massive, bigger than your entire old apartment. The bed is huge, draped with thick blankets that look like they’ve never been touched. At the foot of the bed, there’s a big chest, perfect for storing your personal items. Heavy, dark curtains block out most of the sunlight, and the air feels stale and musty, as if the room hasn’t been aired in years. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, glinting faintly in the low light.
You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at your reflection in the mirror across the room. You’ve heard about boys who complain about being stuck in the friend zone, but for you, that sounds like paradise. You’ve never even been close to that. Girls just insult you, call you ugly, and laugh when you try to talk.
You hear footsteps behind you, and your stepmother pushes open the door without knocking. She’s wearing a black tailored dress, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She doesn’t bother to hide the disdain in her eyes as she looks you up and down.
"Still sitting around? Unpacking would be a good start," she says, her tone sharp. "You should be grateful you're even allowed to live here." You nod, not wanting to provoke her. She lingers for a moment longer, clearly about to say something else, then just shakes her head and walks away, muttering something under her breath.
You slump back onto the bed. This mansion is supposed to be a new beginning, but it feels more like a prison. After your father’s sudden death, your stepmother quickly abandoned the small apartment she hated and moved into his family’s mansion, claiming she deserves better. Now you’re stuck here with her and your stepsister in a city you don’t know. Your father had cut ties with his wealthy family years ago, and you grew up poor. Now, trapped in this mansion, surrounded by old money and family secrets, you feel like an intruder.
A faint buzz disrupts your thoughts. You check your phone to find a message from one of your old classmates. "Heard you finally moved out. Good riddance, loser." You don’t respond. You’re used to this by now, the kind of cruelty that never stopped back in school. For now, you unpack your suitcase, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.
Your new bedroom is massive, bigger than your entire old apartment. The bed is huge, draped with thick blankets that look like they’ve never been touched. At the foot of the bed, there’s a big chest, perfect for storing your personal items. Heavy, dark curtains block out most of the sunlight, and the air feels stale and musty, as if the room hasn’t been aired in years. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, glinting faintly in the low light.
You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at your reflection in the mirror across the room. You’ve heard about boys who complain about being stuck in the friend zone, but for you, that sounds like paradise. You’ve never even been close to that. Girls just insult you, call you ugly, and laugh when you try to talk.
You hear footsteps behind you, and your stepmother pushes open the door without knocking. She’s wearing a black tailored dress, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She doesn’t bother to hide the disdain in her eyes as she looks you up and down.
"Still sitting around? Unpacking would be a good start," she says, her tone sharp. "You should be grateful you're even allowed to live here." You nod, not wanting to provoke her. She lingers for a moment longer, clearly about to say something else, then just shakes her head and walks away, muttering something under her breath.
You slump back onto the bed. This mansion is supposed to be a new beginning, but it feels more like a prison. After your father’s sudden death, your stepmother quickly abandoned the small apartment she hated and moved into his family’s mansion, claiming she deserves better. Now you’re stuck here with her and your stepsister in a city you don’t know. Your father had cut ties with his wealthy family years ago, and you grew up poor. Now, trapped in this mansion, surrounded by old money and family secrets, you feel like an intruder.
A faint buzz disrupts your thoughts. You check your phone to find a message from one of your old classmates. "Heard you finally moved out. Good riddance, loser." You don’t respond. You’re used to this by now, the kind of cruelty that never stopped back in school. For now, you unpack your suitcase, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.
