Happy Evil Heartbreaker [Modern LitRPG]

It was a perfectly ordinary Sunday, or so it seemed. But for Luciel, the day would leave an indelible mark on her.

Initially, she was in rather high spirits. After all, she had enjoyed a delight, thanks to Xanthia, and had the rare privilege of visiting her flat. A hot bath, far better than anything offered at school, had left her feeling refreshed, and the experience had been one of luxury and comfort.

But the happiest moment, by far, was lying on the bed with Xanthia, chatting away. The scent of the girl’s perfume lingered in the air, and her brilliant smile was dazzling… In that moment, Luciel’s heart soared to its peak.

Little did she know that what came next would leave her reeling. She had always been curious about Xanthia's familia, but never could she have imagined that the reality would be so bleak.

After discovering the truth, it was no wonder why Xanthia had always been so reluctant to speak of her parents, her familia. There was simply nothing pleasant to say. How could one casually mention, “My mother is dead, and my father is a scoundrel”? Such words were not easily spoken.

In Luciel’s eyes, Xanthia was the type of girl who, no matter how much pain or sorrow she bore, would carry it all alone, never burdening others.

Xanthia’s outward happiness, her constant bright and sunny demeanor, was but a protective facade. She wasn’t the type to spread her negativity to her friends—no, she only wanted to share joy and positivity.

If there was one word to describe her, it would be "greatness." Xanthia had a truly great character.

Thinking about how Xanthia "found joy in suffering" made Luciel’s heart ache.

As they sat together on the bus back to school, Luciel turned to Xanthia and, with great sincerity, said, "Li'l Xanthia, if you ever face any difficulties, don’t be strong and try to bear it all alone. Share it with me—I’ll always help, no matter what."

"Alright, Sister Luciel, you’re the truly kind one, with your chivalrous heart and generous spirit."

Xanthia smiled again, revealing her pristine, white teeth. Her smile was beautiful, and her breath smelled sweet, as though it had been purified. Such cherry lips must be an absolute delight to kiss.

Her smile was always radiant, full of sunshine, and utterly infectious. Anyone who saw it would feel their spirits lift.

Luciel had always adored Xanthia’s innocent and carefree grin. But now, knowing how much pain lay beneath that smile, it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Poor Xanthia… Why did such a wonderful girl have to bear such a heavy burden?

"I’m only like this with you. You, on the other hand, are gentle with the whole world—even though the world has been so cruel to you," Luciel sighed.

Since learning about Xanthia’s past, Luciel had often compared their lives, and the more she thought about it, the more fortunate she felt. Her own happy familia stood in stark contrast to Xanthia’s tragedy.

Luciel even tried to put herself in Xanthia’s shoes, imagining her own reaction to such a harsh life. She knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it as well as Xanthia. She’d have become bitter, consumed by self-pity, and filled with hatred for the world.

And as for that so-called "heiress" title that Xanthia carried—it hadn’t brought her any advantages, only the threat of becoming a ticking time bomb.

Luciel genuinely worried for Xanthia’s future.

But for now, they were both just ordinary high school girls. What more could they do but study hard? Reality wasn’t a TV drama or a novel—there were no miraculous opportunities or protagonist plot armor. When an overwhelming force arrived, all they could do was surrender to it.

Xanthia chuckled at Luciel’s remark.

“Am I really so gentle with the world? I don’t feel that way at all.”

The world wasn’t cruel to her, not in Xanthia’s eyes. Life, after all, was full of amusements.

…

The two soon returned to their familiar school campus. Xanthia headed straight for the classroom, while Luciel made her way to the dormitory to wash her dirty clothes.

The classroom was rather sparse. Some students were chatting merrily, others were messing around in the back row, some were reading novels, and a few were discreetly playing on their phones. It was a lighthearted, carefree atmosphere.

Xanthia quite liked this youthful energy that filled the school days.

She lazily settled into her seat, pulling out a newly purchased manga magazine from her desk. As she flipped through its pages, her mood lifted, and a content smile appeared on her face.

Most of her classmates weren’t around—

Luciel had gone to the dormitory, Lhoraine was likely there too, and her deskmate Elena usually made the most of her Sunday afternoons. She rarely returned until just before evening classes began.

As for Glen, who sat behind her, he wasn’t in the classroom either. No doubt he and Dematero were off somewhere, enjoying themselves. After all, with Dematero now a "suddenly rich" writer, he was treating them to a big meal. Of course, the two would make the most of it.

But her former deskmate, Xenia La Sagrada, was still there, sitting at her desk.

"Xanthia, Xanthia! Have some bear biscuits!" Xenia cheerfully called out, offering her some snacks.

Although Xanthia and Xenia hadn’t been particularly close when they sat together, mostly due to Xanthia’s frequent absences and her reserved, introverted nature, things had changed since they became neighbours. Their shared love of snacks and Xenia’s occasional need for help with difficult problems had brought them closer.

Xenia thought Xanthia’s explanations were the clearest, almost on par with the teachers. As for her deskmate, Glen, though he was also a top student, his thought process tended to leap around too much, making it hard for her to follow.

But Xanthia was different—she could break the problem down completely, even explaining the intentions of the examiners and the precise concepts they wanted to test.

After just one of Xanthia’s explanations, Xenia had abandoned Glen and thrown herself into Xanthia’s capable hands!

Xanthia’s classmates all loved sharing snacks with her, and seeing her happily munch away always lifted their spirits.

"Alright, alright, thank you! I’ll have some!" Xanthia smiled, turning around. "I’ve got some fruit candies here—would you like one?"

Xenia smiled back, "Just one, apple-flavored, please."

Xanthia reached into her desk, which was filled with books and snacks, and pulled out a large jar of candy. She opened the lid and, as usual, offered a handful, but Xenia quickly waved her hands, "No, no, just one apple-flavored one, that’s enough!"

Xanthia, helplessly amused, picked out a single green apple-flavoured hard candy and handed it over.

Taking the candy, Xenia teased, "Xanthia, unlike you, I’m not one of those ‘eat anything and stay slim’ types. You’re so skinny; you need to eat more to put on some weight. As for me, I’ve already got an excess of nutrition! If I don’t watch it, I’ll end up even bigger."

Xanthia laughed, "You’re not fat at all, don’t be so hard on yourself!"

"Oh, I’m definitely on the plump side! By the way, I heard Dematero treated you to a big meal today? Did he really spend over five hundred... romani?"

It was clear Xenia had caught wind of the gossip circulating in the class group chat. Though Dematero hadn’t bragged about it himself, his best friend Glen had spread the word, ensuring everyone knew about their "big-spender" friend.

Of course, people also knew Glen’s tendency to exaggerate things…

Xanthia nodded thoughtfully, “Indeed, it did cost quite a bit. After all, we dined at Swiss Zine. I held back when ordering, believe me.”

Xenia, taken aback by Xanthia’s confirmation, couldn’t help but feel a pang of disbelief. Coming from a modest familia herself, her view of the world as a high school student was still rather limited. She exclaimed, “Spending that much on just one meal? Dematero sure is living extravagantly now. Seems like he’s struck it big.”

“Well, talented people are never short on money, are they? The fact that he’s been able to publish his work means he must have endured hardships we can hardly imagine.”

Xanthia recalled how Dematero had suffered under the torment of that one-time-use system item, his mind on the verge of collapse. It was the price of breaking free from the cocoon to become a butterfly. Though whether the development process were smooth or not is a question for another day.

“You’ve got an eye for things, Xanthia! Most of our classmates, myself included, never thought Dematero could prove himself. Yet here he is, not only writing excellent essays but also earning real money from his writing. And he’s spending it however he pleases, even at our age. I can’t help but envy him,” Xenia remarked with a touch of admiration.

And she wasn’t wrong. In their student years, any teenager with an ounce of sense knew their money came from their parents, earned through hard work. Naturally, spending it came with a sense of restraint. Buying snacks for friends was one thing, but treating someone to a lavish meal that cost over five hundred romani? That was something most high schoolers couldn’t even dream of.

Yet Dematero had done exactly that, and in doing so, completely overturned his reputation for being miserly. Of course, some might sneer, saying he was just showing off by spending such an amount. Why not keep the money for himself? Wouldn’t that be far more satisfying?

“Oh, by the way, Xanthia, I assume you’ve read Dematero’s latest novel too? I was curious, so I gave it a go... and let me tell you, I was fuming by the end. The quality of the writing is impeccable, and it deserves to be published, no doubt. But that ending! It’s such a tragedy! The heroine was written so brilliantly, and then she just dies? It’s infuriating!” Xenia’s frustration boiled over as she ranted.

Xanthia smiled to herself. That was exactly the effect Dematero had been aiming for. She didn’t care how much money he made from his stories. What mattered was the pain he caused through his writing, pain that was directly contributing to her own system’s Pain Coins.

Today had been especially fruitful. Luciel alone had been a goldmine, and there were certainly plenty of devoted readers in their school who, with a half-day off, were sure to rush out and grab a copy of the latest issue.

And when they inevitably finished reading Dematero’s story, they would be hit with that gut-wrenching ending, and their pain would explode, filling her system with more Pain Coins.

Xenia was a perfect example of this, and all Xanthia needed to do was play along. “Of course, I read it too. The writing’s really something, isn’t it? But that ending… too tragic. I was hoping for a nice, happy conclusion.”

“Exactly! From what I hear, when Dematero comes back to class, he’s going to face the wrath of many of our classmates, especially the boys. Their reactions are far more intense than the girls’. Dematero’s in for a rough time!” Xenia giggled mischievously.

Female readers, particularly those who were familiar with the genre, were often more resilient to tragic endings. After all, they were accustomed to such heartaches—how many romance novels in youth magazines actually had happy endings? The beauty of a tragic ending held a certain allure for them.

But the male readers? They had no such patience for writers like Dematero, who deliberately killed off beloved heroines.

Dematero didn’t bother with a pseudonym, so they had no qualms about seeking him out in real life. They’d track him down in class, confront him face-to-face, and demand accountability from the author responsible for their anguish.

Xenia eagerly described the reactions of the boys who had fallen victim to the story’s twists. They’d cursed aloud, shouting things like, “How could the heroine, Maria La Natina, die?!” “Dematero, you scoundrel, bring Maria back!” “I’m gutted! If I’d known it would end like this, I wouldn’t have read that trash!” “Why am I such a fool? Why couldn’t I resist reading it?” and “When Dematero gets back, I’m going to beat him up!”

Her vivid descriptions painted a lively picture, full of drama, and Xanthia couldn’t help but laugh at how much it matched what she had imagined.

She hadn’t been in class earlier, likely off somewhere consoling Luciel with tears and heartfelt talks.

As they continued to chat, more students trickled into the classroom.

When Dematero and Glen finally arrived, sure enough, just as Xenia had predicted, chaos ensued.

The students who had read Dematero’s story were quick to pounce on him, ganging up in collective outrage.

It was the perfect blend of old grudges and fresh annoyances.

The new issue was how pompous he had become, throwing so much money around to curry favor with Xanthia and Luciel. That alone was enough to be a crime in their eyes. How dare this butthead suddenly rise to such heights? It was unfair!

As for the old grudge, well, it was all about that wretched short story. Who in their right mind would write such a terrible ending? Surely, Dematero had done it to spite the world!

Dematero, of course, tried to defend himself, insisting, “I was just following the outline,” “There’s nothing wrong with the ending,” “The tragedy was foreshadowed,” “It has more literary merit,” and “If you don’t understand novels, don’t speak nonsense.”

But the more he tried to explain, the angrier his readers became, their negative emotions swirling.

Xanthia, listening to the constant stream of system notifications, was practically glowing with satisfaction. As long as she kept earning pain coins, she was winning.

As for Dematero? Well, it wasn’t her problem if he got beaten up by his readers. He had chosen to write tragedies, after all.

At that moment, Dematero, cornered against the classroom wall, cried out, “Glen, help me!”

Glen adjusted his glasses but didn’t rush to his aid. In truth, when Dematero’s sample copy had first arrived, Glen had read the story and had been tempted to hit him as well.

Despite his anger, he had held back because Dematero was his closest friend. Yet now, seeing their classmates riled up, he felt strangely satisfied.

He had questioned Dematero at the time, wondering why the heroine had to die after such a perfect character arc. Was it really necessary to end it that way?

Does he even thought that this might reduced significantly the number of his fans? Readers would assume tradegies is his niche so some might not consider to read his novels in the future,

For Glen, taking this path was foolishness although Dematero may come in spotlight, first impressions are the most important part.

Dematero had merely smiled, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and declared with absolute certainty that this was the essence of true love—this ending was inevitable.

Whether the readers liked it or not, they would have to accept his vision. And if they couldn’t, well, that was too bad for them.

It was as if Dematero had force-fed them poison, leaving them no choice but to swallow it.

With a shrug, Glen turned to his friend and said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Perhaps you should ask Xanthia instead?”

Naturally, Dematero wouldn’t dare. His choice to write tragedies had nothing to do with her, after all. She was always the innocent bystander.

“I’ll take responsibility for my actions. Go ahead, everyone. Do your worst… just go easy on me, alright?”

Dematero finally surrendered, though only physically. His classmates could exact their revenge, but they would never break his creative spirit.

No matter how many times they came after him, Dematero would continue to write stories filled with heart-wrenching twists, infuriating love triangles, and plots that would drive readers mad. He lived to make them scream and curse his name.

After this debacle, he’d learned one lesson: using his real name for such controversial stories was a bad idea. In the future, it would be best to create a few pseudonyms and wage guerrilla warfare. That way, Dematero could write whatever he pleased under different names, and no one could trace it back to him.

...

A New Month Beckons.

Time flew by, and before anyone realized it, another week had passed. October was drawing to a close, and November was just around the corner.

At Thessaloniki First High, the students eagerly anticipated their well-deserved monthly holiday. This time, they could relax without the looming threat of exams upon their return. Unlike the last break in October, they wouldn’t face a major test as soon as they got back.

The midterms were scheduled for mid-November, giving the students plenty of time to ease back into their studies after the holiday and prepare adequately.

For Xanthia, however, the beginning of a new month meant something far more exciting—new blind boxes to exchange for! It was like having her superpowers refresh each month, and she always looked forward to it.

November was poised to be a promising month, full of untapped potential.