Chapter 25: The White-Haired One Is Also Me?

Siloque pulled the white quilt over himself, reaching his hand down.

The Holy Sword was still there.

Nothing like that had happened.

Fortunately, he didn’t turn into a pretty girl—just his face looked even more like one.

“Hill, does this hospital also offer beauty treatments? White hair is one thing, but the skin… it’s even clearer and more radiant?”

“The nurse said it might be a sudden mutation in hair color caused by excessive magic consumption stress?”

A mutation in hair color? Are you sure it’s not a species mutation?

Siloque figured it out: the white hair was a side effect of excessive magic consumption, and the improved skin was due to the Lv increase.

He had originally thought that leveling up would make him look more manly, but why is my skin so smooth and delicate now?

Why do I have big eyes, long eyelashes, and pink lips?

The cuteness has surpassed gender boundaries…

Why am I so fascinated by looking at myself?

My dream was to be a fierce interstellar warrior!

Forget it…

The price of using such a large-scale AOE magic was just free hair dye and losing consciousness; it was a good trade.

Comforting himself with that thought, Siloque resisted the urge to smash the mirror and handed it back to Hill with a face full of dark lines.

Hill shyly said, twisting awkwardly, “Brother, be happy. Hill thinks you look even cooler now!”

“If you like it so much, then I’ll dye my hair white for you.”

“No, Hill’s trait is blonde twin tails. If both of us have white hair, won’t we end up with the same trait?”

Siloque translated her words internally: character duplication.

Come to think of it, her avatar was Dante… she seems to have a thing for white hair.

Somehow, this inexplicably boosted Hill’s favorability and made him even more popular with his little sister?

What kind of nonsense is this?

The principle is the principle, but psychologically, it’s hard to accept.

***

Hill’s room.

Siloque and Hill sat on the carpet watching the screen, holding controllers as they battled in the game, with a tissue box, chips, drinks, and other snacks beside them.

“Hill, you’re really good. Watching you play is such a pleasure.”

Hill smiled brightly and made a “yeah” gesture.

“Hehe, Hill even played the second game with his feet—easy, easy. But brother’s skills have gotten so bad.”

“…This controller is limiting my true power. If I switch to a mouse, I’ll speedrun you for sure.”

In his previous life, he didn’t have much time for controllers, playing mostly mobile gacha games or PC games.

He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was 10:30 PM.

On the way home from the hospital, he’d worn the new gray baseball cap the whole time.

His parents couldn’t stop laughing when they saw his white hair at home (why did they find it so funny?).

“Sorry, Hill, I’m really tired. Let’s play again tomorrow?”

He had boasted he’d finish the game tonight, but after four hours, he’d only reached halfway.

“Brother, you should rest first. Hill’s not tired at all. Tomorrow’s Sunday, Hill’s going to play all night.”

“You don’t often pull all-nighters, do you? Be careful of sudden death.”

“No problem! Hill’s body is used to staying up late, no issues at all.”

Hill was full of energy, and Siloque couldn’t help but admire his sister’s perseverance as a player.

Just as Siloque said goodnight and opened the door to head back to his room, Hill leaned close behind him:

“Goodnight, Siloque. A lot happened today, but I was really happy. Let’s play together again next time.”

“Hill?”

The way Hill said it was different than usual—a soft, alluring, sweet whisper right in his ear.

He turned to look, but the door was already closed.

The air still held a faint scent of lemon honey hair perfume.

The light leaking from the door crack flickered, proof that his sister was already deep into the game.

Siloque didn’t take it as a hallucination but was too lazy to verify it.

For now, he would treat it as a joke from his sister.

He returned to his room, yawning, and collapsed on the bed without changing clothes.

He wasn’t actually tired.

Lv increase brought enhanced physical abilities.

He recalled that an 80-level game character could survive with broken limbs for three weeks—leveling systems were truly terrifying.

Considering he still had training with Bried Taros tomorrow, he just wanted to get up early and sleep early.

So much had happened today.

He did special training he hadn’t done in his previous life, encountered Norius’ provocation in the library, got chased by Goblins through the dungeon, farmed monsters, used skills that shook the dungeon, and ended up dyeing his hair…

An explosively fulfilling high school life.

If possible, he didn’t want to experience this again. His body wasn’t tired, but his mind was.

He decided to try other second run skills tomorrow.

Siloque closed his eyes, and gradually, the comfortable darkness enveloped his body as he waited for sleep to claim him…

No.

Siloque kicked away the sleepiness in his mind, sitting upright in a somersault.

“Beiren…”

Two reasons made that name come to mind.

Siloque pulled up the Ring Chart window.

〈Pure Black Annihilation Ray〉

First, this skill shouldn’t exist here right now.

If this were a fantasy world, learning some secret martial arts manual wouldn’t be known by anyone unless you told them.

But here, although it’s a game world, it’s also the information age.

A Lv7 rookie like Siloque having a late-game skill was like “scratching a lottery ticket at the station and winning a million-dollar prize”—it would be headline news.

Using the old man ring as an example: it was as absurd as early-stage Greck soldiers proficiently wielding Melania’s ultimate skill ‘Waterfowl’—with the same damage and attack range.

This would definitely be deemed a bug by society.

As long as he remained a school student, exams would definitely scan the Ring Chart, and tomorrow in the dungeon, it would be checked again.

Once connected online, with cloud database AI scanning, having such an absurd skill in the hands of a Lv7 newbie, analyzing social networks wouldn’t look normal.

He’d be suspected of belonging to the Evil Demon Society—a terrifying terrorist group that gained power through abnormal means.

Siloque didn’t want to be taken away by the Tuners for investigation.

He had to conceal the existence of this skill.

For that, he needed Beiren’s help.

Checking the time… 10:38 PM.

“Still in time.”

As for the second reason…

Siloque tied his ponytail, put on a hoodie, donned his baseball cap, dug out some old shoes from the closet, and slipped out the window into the night.

Does seeing the person you like really need a reason?

***

A book café filled with the aroma of coffee.

The first floor sold coffee, milk tea, and other drinks, while the dimly lit second floor was quieter and more comfortable.

Located near a commercial district with residential complexes behind, it was considered a semi-prime location. As night deepened, more customers arrived.

Beiren sat by the window on the second floor. She put down her book and took a small sip of her coffee, which had gone cold from sitting too long. Her eyes glanced unconsciously at her phone on the table.

The phone was silent.

Beiren unlocked it. On LINE, aside from classmates and colleagues set to “receive but don’t notify,” messages from her parents back home asking about her situation, and chat histories with friends… there were no new messages.

Beiren hadn’t pinned that person to the top, scrolling down.

She saw the newly added chat from yesterday, still with no messages sent, named “F Class Siloque who owes money.”

The chat was completely empty.

Beiren’s odd pride made her feel that sending the first message was losing.

She was waiting for Siloque to casually send a sticker or a greeting to open the conversation.

After all, he was the one who asked to add her; the other person should initiate chatting.

“Could it be that guy is still unconscious?”

Should she go to the hospital to check again…

But the doctor said he’d wake up soon; it should be fine.

Maybe Siloque was also struggling with sending the first message to the person he liked?

Imagining Siloque’s hesitation made Beiren’s heart flutter.

“Tsk… why does it feel like I’m really looking forward to him messaging me?”

I’m not some lovestruck girl; what am I doing…

Beiren muttered softly, then simply turned off her phone.

It wasn’t her first time being confessed to; just a fifteen-year-old kid, nothing to be nervous about.

If anything, this was Beiren’s second time being confessed to in her life.

It brought back a memory that made her feel sick.

She remembered when she was in college, unable to refuse her roommate’s plea, she joined just to fill out the numbers for a social event.

She was a little curious, so she went to her first and last social gathering.

The atmosphere was so awkward; everyone seemed like rehearsed actors, speaking scripted lines one after another.

Unlike the lively scenes in dramas, Beiren just felt everyone was fake.

Boring as hell.

Despite putting on the act, Beiren smiled and laughed with them, keeping the mood warm. After the party broke up, on the way home, one of them approached her.

Just judging by appearance, he had to be a handsome guy.

“Since you sat down, I noticed you. I feel you have a kind of elegant beauty. I like you.”

The guy, seemingly reciting lines and drunk, confessed to Beiren.