Cerita Pendek & Novel Male POV Campus

On the day I'm about to quit the game, I see countless live comments flashing across my vision. "Yay! The male supporting lead is about to quit the game!" "Now, the male lead won't have to worry about getting exposed for using the male supporting lead's game account to get into online relationships with others!" "Our darling male lead is too smart, after all! Whenever he goes on dates, he often uses the voice chat function in the game. That's why the male supporting lead is still kept in the dark!" "Holy shit, Henry really is lucky!" "To think that he used Vincent's max-level account to flirt with the four richest female players on the server!" "Later at 2:00 pm, he'll be meeting his first date partner, Yvonne Johnson the cold and aloof campus belle, at Cosmic Coffee!" "Tomorrow, he'll be meeting up with the top assassin in-game! The day after that, he'll go on a date with the second-highest paying player of the game! Wow, his time management skills really are amazing!" The "Henry" whom the live comments are referring to is Henry Luster, my roommate. So, he's been flirting with four of the top-tier rich female players while impersonating me, huh? More live comments streak past my eyes at that moment. "Why isn't the male supporting lead leaving? Yvonne is already waiting for the male lead right now!" "This is their first romantic date as the leads of this story! I can't wait to watch it unfold!" As I turn to look at Henry, who's styling his hair before the mirror, I suddenly realize that I'm the supporting male lead whom the live comments are referring to. My lips curl into a small smile. Since Henry has been using my identity to become a virtual casanova, then it's not wrong of me to attend each date in person on his behalf, right?

On the day we were supposed to leave for our graduation trip to the Cloudspire Plateau, my girlfriend dropped off the face of the earth. While I waited at Bellwarren International Airport, my roommate sent me a strangely loaded message. "Elliot, don't panic. There's a big surprise coming." I felt relieved. I assumed Naomi was running late because she was getting dressed up. She'd always promised that the day we graduated, she'd put on a wedding gown and marry me. Then our class representative dropped a cash giveaway into the group chat. @Everyone: "Thanks to every student and faculty member here to witness Naomi Keller and Derek Vaughn's engagement! Three years together, and they finally made it official!" It was cleaned out in seconds. One classmate after another posted congratulations. Then somebody finally put it together and wrote, "Holy hell, Owen. Did you forget to take Elliot out of this group?" The chat went dead silent. A second later, all of them started tagging me. "Elliot, don't come down here and make a scene. They've been together in secret for three years. It wasn't easy getting to this day." "You're so controlling that Derek couldn't show his face for three years. He's been through enough." Even our faculty adviser piled on. "Do it as a favor to me. You're a man, so be the bigger person. Don't ruin their night. Let them keep some dignity." Their messages closed in around me until I couldn't breathe, let alone ask a single question. The promise that was supposed to carry us from school uniforms to a wedding gown wasn't the only lie. Every part of those four years had been one.

My stomach cramped with pain. Lisa Witherspoon said she'd go buy me some hot milk, but she came back with a room-temperature one instead. When I asked her about it, she brushed it off. "I ran into Freddy on the way. He said he wanted something hot, so I gave it to him. Room temperature's basically the same anyway." Standing in the cold November wind, I thought about the past three years, every single time Lisa had chosen Freddy Bateman over me, and I suddenly felt like none of it meant anything anymore. I heard my own voice, perfectly calm, saying, "Let's break up." She looked at me like it was a joke. "So which of my social media accounts are you going to block this time?" What she didn't know was that before I ever said the word breakup, I'd already applied to a top university, Monarch University. This time, I was really leaving.

Seventy-two hours before the graduate school recommendation list was posted, someone stole Wesley North's research data. He stared at the empty folder on his screen, his fingertips going cold. Eight months of work—more than two hundred pages of charts and twelve rounds of empirical analysis—gone. Wesley checked the security footage. The files had been copied by Natalie Rowan, his childhood friend of eighteen years, and handed to Derek Sloan, the classmate everyone believed was struggling to get by. In that moment, Wesley didn't think about his own future. He thought about his grandmother. Her doctors had declared her critical eight times, and she was hanging on just to hear whether he'd made the list.

As a man, if I had one fatal flaw, it would be that I cared a lot about my pride. When I fell off my bike as a kid, I'd get right back up on my feet immediately, wincing through the pain while acting completely fine, terrified that someone might laugh at me. Whenever my mom hired a cleaner to clean the house, I'd spend two hours beforehand sweating bullets scrubbing the place down myself, terrified the maid would see a messy house and laugh at me. Once I started school, it got even worse. If someone else took one advanced tutoring class, I'd sign up for eight. During the day, I'd brag that I never opened a textbook, but at night, I'd secretly grind until dawn—and I was top in my grade every single time. There was no helping it; I was just terrified of getting bad grades and being laughed at. When high school graduation rolled around, I saw all my friends start dating. So, I bit the bullet, asked out the prettiest, smartest girl in our class, and managed to win her over. After all, if my partner turned out to be ugly or dumb, people would laugh at me. Later on, we both got accepted into the same university. However, not long after the semester started, she began getting closer and closer to the popular guy in our school. Whenever people teased them about being a couple, she would neither confirm nor deny it. She would merely smile. "Stop teasing us, guys. Jonas hasn't said anything about it yet." That very night, I broke up with her.

After the SAT scores were released, Sean White threw a lavish graduation party. He was the most popular guy at school and had been on financial aid. That night, I got a text saying my credit card had been maxed out. I went to confront Sean. Instead, I found him standing next to my girlfriend, Janine Slater, looking like he was about to cry. "Just because I'm on financial aid, does that mean I can't hold a graduation party?" he asked. Janine rushed to comfort him, then turned on me. "Your family has plenty of money. Spending a little on Sean isn't going to hurt you," she said. Sure, my family was wealthy, but that didn't make me a charity case. Why should I pay for him? I refused to back down and called the police to get my money back. However, Janine retaliated by sabotaging my family's company, pushing it to the brink of bankruptcy. While I was on my way to meet with investors, Janine and Sean plotted together and ran me over. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of Sean's graduation party.

On the day the SAT scores were released, I clutched my phone and waited anxiously for forty minutes. “I got a 1550! Oh, Bree got a 1540! We’re both going to Preston Medical University!” my twin brother Michael Ashby shouted. I was about to say I could go too, but my girlfriend, Brielle Willow, had already grabbed Michael’s hand and dashed out the door. Brielle only remembered me during the celebration. “Oh, Fin, Preston Community College is right next to the medical school. Why don’t you just apply to their nursing program? That way, the three of us could still hang out together.” Michael chuckled and lightly patted my head. “Male nurses are in demand. Later on, when goofball Bree and I are doctors, you can assist us as our nurse. It’s the perfect combo!” They complemented each other perfectly like two halves of a whole. I did not belong there. For years, I had been running myself into the ground trying to keep up. They were always miles ahead, and I could only watch from behind. For once, I chose not to chase after them any longer.

At eleven o’clock at night, I was racking my brains trying to solve the last physics question when a text popped up in my phone. It was Denise Chadburn, the top student in our class. [Pancakes from the west of the city and black tea with two cubes of sugar.] That was in the opposite direction from my house and would take me over half an hour to get there and back. I didn’t want to do it, so I texted her back: [I’m sorry, I need to get to class early tomorrow and can’t go there.] Denise never texted back after that. I thought that was the end of it. Ten minutes later, my homeroom teacher, Ms. Sable, texted me. [Jordan Schmidt, Denise is preparing for the regional Olympiad and is under much pressure. She also has gastric issues. Half an hour of extra studying wouldn’t do your dismal results any good anyway. Help bring our top student some breakfast to save her time.] I stared at my phone screen, my jawline tightening. [Ms. Sable, it’s out of the way for me. It’ll take me half an hour longer on the road.] Ms. Sable sent me a voice message. “Jordan, you’ve got to be more flexible. The fact you were paired up with Denise in our one-to-one mentoring program is to your advantage. She’s smart. A piece of advice from her is more helpful to you than rote learning by yourself for half an hour. Shouldn’t you at least try being helpful to her?” I ignored her texts and left my phone screen to turn dark, reflecting the fatigue on my face.

Cosmo Finch, the class president, announces in the group chat that the graduation dinner is being held at 6:00 pm. I arrive at the restaurant ten minutes early and wait outside the private dining room, only for him to stop me and shove a payment QR code in my face. "You're the last one in the class to arrive. Now, transfer me 300 dollars if you want to get in!" I'm baffled. "Didn't you tell us it starts at 6:00 pm? It's only 5:50 pm. How am I late?" Cosmo rolls his eyes and sneers, "Everyone else arrived an hour early to toast our advisor. You're the only one who shows up on the dot. Do you have no sense of team spirit? If you don't want to pay your share, leave!" Not wanting to make a scene at our last college get-together, I transfer the money with a cold expression and push open the door to the private dining room. However, the moment I step inside, my classmates are already putting on their coats and getting ready to leave. I take in all the sparkling-clean plates on the table, not quite processing what I'm seeing. Cosmo calls out from behind, "Everyone, grab your belongings. It's time to hit the speakeasy bar! Kieran, since you showed up last, the rest of the bill is on you!"

Right after my exchange program interview, I become the center of a campus scandal. The headline is brutal. "Top Student Caught Getting Into a Rich Woman's Bentley Late At Night. Did He Earn His Exchange Spot or Sleep His Way Into It?" The post includes a 12-second clip of a middle-aged woman stepping out of a Bentley and opening the door for me. Mark Stone, the campus heartthrob, wastes no time spreading rumors that I'm a sugar baby and that I stole his spot in the exchange program by sleeping my way to the top. Bruce Jagger, my academic advisor, pressures me to give up my spot. Hugo Lawson, my roommate, even packs up and moves out overnight. But Mark isn't done. He publicly challenges me to bring the woman to campus and face him head-on. So, I make one phone call and summon the very woman he's accusing me of sleeping with to come to campus. Everyone expects me to get exposed in front of the whole school. Instead, the woman walks up to me and addresses me respectfully in front of the entire crowd. "Mr. Durham, you called for me?"

I suddenly receive a message from my girlfriend, Sophia Rothwood, half an hour before my last test for the SAT. "I'm waiting for you in Classroom 901." I assume that she wants to give me a small surprise since I'm about to finish my SAT. Instead, I see her throw my ID and admission ticket into a brazier the moment I enter the classroom. I rush toward her, throwing all caution to the wind as I try to scoop the remains of my ID and admission ticket out of the fire. "Why did you do that?" I demand. Sophia holds me back. Her voice is calm when she says, "No particular reason. It's just that your results are always better than Louis'. I'm getting a bit tired of coaxing him. I intentionally let you watch this happen so that you understand what's going on and miss the test of your own accord." My ID and admission ticket have burned to ashes by the time she's done speaking. Sophia pauses for a moment as she takes in my stunned expression. "Did you know that the globally-renowned enterprise, Grant Group, has already sent someone to contact me? They plan to give me a million dollars in funding every year and provide specialized training for me. "I'll become Grant Group's youngest female executive within five years. Do you still think that you'll be a good match for me at that point? Louis is different. He's the son of a prestigious family. He's the better candidate to stay by my side during my time in university. "Stop with your delusions. Let's end our relationship now." I let out an indignant scoff, turn around, and leave. Sophia has no idea that Grant Group is my family's business. The million-dollar annual funding and specialized training she speaks of are part of a promise that I made with Dad before SAT. The condition is that I have to achieve first place for the exams. However, getting first place isn't important anymore. What matters is that Sophia's future has turned completely dark.

I had a crush on Mandy Sawyer for three years. I had thought it would be my secret pantomime forever. I had even planned to silently wave goodbye to her back on the day of our high school graduation. However, when I saw her weeping silently under her desk over the sudden drop in her usually stellar results… I watched her trembling shoulders and knew that I could no longer pretend to be a stranger.

Trent Mercer, my rich-kid roommate, stumbled through the door late at night. He was half-dragging Raven Cross, the campus queen, who had passed out cold. "Hey, Skye," Trent sneered, reeking of cheap tequila, "This one's a real catch. I'm feeling generous, so you get first dibs." I turned down my three roommates’ “generous offer.” Instead, I quietly set up a hidden camera, angling it directly toward the bed. This was my third life, after all. In my first life, I played the hero. I stepped in and saved Raven, only for her to turn around and accuse me of sexual assault. I died in prison long before I ever saw my release date. In my second life, I turned a blind eye. I ignored them and went straight to sleep. The next morning, Raven pinned the crime on me anyway. Right before I died, she finally told me the truth. Of the three guys involved, one had a family too powerful to touch, while another was her secret crush. Trent used me as the scapegoat, clearing his name and securing an Ivy League spot. This was my third time around. It was time to settle the score.

After returning to school following a few days of absence, I can clearly sense a shift in how my classmates look at me. Even my former best friend, Jake Turner, has grown cold and distant. During a mock exam, when I ask to borrow a pen from him, he raises his hand and declares, "Ms. Stafford! I want to report Darrell Goodwin for cheating!" I'm given a major disciplinary demerit as a result. When I demand to know why he did it, he shoots me a look of utter contempt and says, "The SATs are just around the corner, and here you are, taking time off to sell your body for favors. My father is the vice principal of this school, and even I wouldn't stoop as low as you." Completely bewildered, I watch as he tosses a photograph at me. It's a picture of me getting into a luxury car on the day I took leave. Suddenly, everyone begins mocking me, claiming that I'm resorting to any means necessary just to take a shortcut and even become someone's kept man while my parents work themselves to the bone, running a farm to support my education. I try to explain that the person in the car is my own mother, but no one believes me. "You mean your sugar mommy? Do your parents even know you're being kept by a woman?" The rumors spiral out of control, and the principal, Mr. Matthew Snyder, even demands that my parents come to withdraw me from school. But the moment my entire family arrives, Mr. Snyder panics.

After begging my dad for the 100th time to let me come back home for school, he finally gave in. Before the semester started, he warned me repeatedly. “There is an underground clique around campus. Every year, they single out one freshman who attracts too much attention and make that person their punching bag. “They are careful about covering their tracks. We’ve looked into them for a long time and still have nothing solid. Keep your head down and watch your back.” I nodded, then I remembered that I had recently joined the incoming-freshman group chat. I opened it and intended to ask if anyone knew anything about the clique, only to discover that someone had tagged me. [Damn, we found our first poser already? @Henry] I frowned and tapped on the guy’s profile. The username was “PoserPolice.” The guy was one of the most active people in the group chat. [Henry? Of course the poser has some old-money-sounding name.] The completely unprovoked hostility made my face darken. [My parents gave me that name. What’s your problem?] He ignored my reply and posted a photo in the chat. [Well, well… Nice flex, man. Which influencer did you steal this pic from?] It was just a random photo he had dug up from my social media, except he had circled the Porsche barely visible in one corner. [Steals a luxury-car pic, then tries to act all low-key about it. Dude, you aren’t fooling anyone.] By the end of the day, every freshman in the group knew who I was.

I've decided to hire Queenie Sullivan, an impoverished student with excellent grades, as my tutor in my studies. However, she asked me whether or not she could bring another student named Timothy Dunn with her to the tutor session. After I turned her request down politely, Timothy left while looking crestfallen. But he got into an accident immediately afterward. Queenie continued to tutor me. Gradually, we started dating, and we got married later on. Life was amazing after our marriage… or so it seemed. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. On the night when my cancer tormented me to no end, Queenie locked me up at home and watched as I painted the floor with the blood I hacked out. "You owe Timothy this much, Zachary. It's your turn to have a taste of despair." Only then did realization dawn on me. It turned out that Queenie had been hating me all these years. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Queenie has asked me if she can bring Timothy along with her to the tutor session.

After the SAT scores get released, everyone in the advanced class hits the 1,400 threshold. The campus heartthrob, Luke Gilbert, recommends the latest AI college application app that is developed by his dad's company to make it easier for everyone. I pull Keyla Simmons, the class president, over and warn her that the risks that come with using an AI application app are far too high. On top of that, there are deadly flaws within the app that can lead to the students getting rejected by their dream colleges. But Keyla responds by hurling a high heel in my face. All of my classmates surround me and begin mocking me relentlessly. "Justin, you're just worried that everyone will get into better courses once they used the AI app to apply for their colleges!" "Heh! If you have a crush on Keyla, then just say it out loud! There's no need to play the jealousy card and throw a tantrum just to ruin everyone's future! Besides, look at how haggard you are right now! You can barely hold a candle to Luke, our campus heartthrob! Haha!" I'm so pissed that my asthma attack gets triggered on the spot. For the sake of everyone's future, I can only escalate things to the point that the education department gets involved. Only then can I stop everyone from using the app. Unexpectedly, on the day I receive my college acceptance letter, a bunch of convicts, who have escaped from prison, vandalize the bookstore that my family owns. Those bastards even violate me and my younger brother in front of our parents. At the same time, they keep gushing about how doing it with a guy feels way more satisfying. Then, they kill our parents in cold blood right in front of our eyes. In the end, they set the entire bookstore on fire, ultimately burning us into ashes. What's worse is that this terrible incident doesn't get reported at all. Instead, my classmates slander me for having illicit relations with outsiders when I was still a high schooler. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Luke suggests that everyone use the AI college application app. This time, I don't bother stopping them. Instead, I'm the first one to agree with Luke. "Humans have to adapt to the growing trends. AI is definitely more professional than humans."