The next morning, I woke up feeling... refreshed.

  The rest of the Academy, however, did not.

  The picture of the morning was truly something to behold. I stepped out of the dormitory. The wind was fresh. The air was cool. I was in a fantastic mood.

  Noah shuffled past me like a zombie. "K... k... kill me..." he groaned, his eyes entirely bloodshot.

  Edgar limped down the hall. "My muscles... my muscles are traitors..." He literally couldn't lift his arms above his waist after yesterday's metallic rampage.

  Astra was walking down the corridor, casting minor healing spells on everyone she passed, even though she looked like she needed an emergency medical evacuation herself.

  Finn was wrapped in bandages from the neck down, muttering feverishly to himself. "...why him? How did he... why...?"

  Lucille was teleporting down the hallway... slowly. Very, very slowly. Gritting her teeth with every spatial jump because every single teleport clearly brought her agonizing pain.

  Siren? He walked with his usual confident stride. But his face bore the distinct expression of a man who realized he had been thoroughly conned.

  And Elinia...

  She looked at me as if I had personally stolen her throne, burned her kingdom to ash, and eaten her crown for breakfast.

  Even the teachers were walking around cautiously, as if the air itself was highly combustible.

  But the most important detail of the morning?

  Every. Single. Student. Was staring at me.

  They looked at me as if I were the absolute worst thing to happen to this Academy in the last two hundred years.

  Why?

  Because the official announcement board hanging right by the main gates read:

  WINNER OF THE "LABYRINTH" TRIAL: ZENKHALD HELVARD (The only student left standing)

  And beneath the official notice, a massive crowd of students was loudly providing commentary:

  "What kind of absolute garbage is this?" "How did he win?! He literally did NOTHING!" "It's a scam! A conspiracy! Dark magic cheating!" "A weakling winning the trial is the biggest disgrace in Academy history!" "Princess Elinia Laurel should have won!" "Noah almost died in there, and that guy doesn't even have a scratch on him!" "Kick him out of the Elite Class!"

  The most insulting part? Even people who didn't know me already despised my existence.

  As I walked down the corridor, the whispers followed me like a plague. "There he is! The winner who did absolutely nothing!" "What a disgrace." "The coward from the back row!"

  Finn saw me, winced in pain, and hissed, "If you only knew how badly I want to beat you to a pulp right now... but it hurts to even think."

  Edgar hobbled over. "Brother... how did you even survive? Did you actually fight anything?"

  "Um. Yes. Of course," I lied unconvincingly. "Well... a little."

  Edgar stared at me in horror. "HE DOESN'T EVEN REMEMBER FIGHTING!!"

  Curtain falls. My reputation was dead.

  The peak of my humiliation occurred during the Magical History lesson.

  The teacher walked into the classroom. He looked at the bruised, battered, bandaged, exhausted Elite Class... and then looked at me, completely unharmed and looking exceptionally healthy.

  "Good morning, Elite Class," the teacher said.

  And then he started laughing.

  The class responded with a collective groan of physical pain, profound disappointment, and pure sorrow.

  "Congratulations to our grand victor," the teacher chuckled, looking directly at me.

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  The entire class turned to glare at me.

  I slowly stood up. "Thank you..."

  A chorus of furious whispers erupted. "How dare he say thank you?!" "He stole that victory!" "I hate him so much..."

  Elinia was just murdering me with her eyes.

  Lucille scoffed in disgust.

  Noah tiredly rubbed his face. "Sometimes I think... maybe I should have just dropped that illusion directly on his head..."

  Siren leaned over and whispered coldly, "You did not land a SINGLE STRIKE... and you won."

  "Um... it just sort of happened?" I offered.

  Siren stared at me flatly. "That is the absolute worst thing you could have possibly said."

  At lunch, things got even worse.

  I just wanted to get some soup. Just. Soup.

  But when I approached the serving counter, the lunch lady glared at me and snapped, "We're out of soup. It's all been eaten."

  Right behind her, a massive pot of soup was bubbling merrily.

  From the tables behind me, the whispers continued. "That's the Zen guy." "I hate him sooo much..."

  I took a tray of whatever was left and walked into the dining hall. I just wanted to sit quietly.

  But the moment I stepped onto the floor, the entire dining hall turned to look at me. Hundreds of glares pierced my soul.

  "There he is." "The winner who did nothing." "The slacker of the Elite Class." "What a disgrace."

  One upperclassman dramatically announced to his table, "If I die in a trial, please bury me with the knowledge that at least I tried..."

  The summary of my situation: I had wanted to be invisible. I had wanted to be the most average student in the world.

  But no.

  Now, I was despised. Unloved. An undeserving victor. "That weird kid who walked through the labyrinth without a scratch." A legend in the absolute WORST way possible.

  Beautiful. Super. Flawless.

  When I asked for a second chance at life, I thought miserably, I didn't ask to play it on 'Fan-Hate' mode...

  My reputation was officially lower than the bottom of the ocean. If the Academy handed out awards for "Most Despised Student," I would have won two gold medals, a grand trophy, and a personal certificate from the Headmaster.

  I stood in the middle of the dining hall, holding my tray. The moment of truth.

  I tried to find a table where absolutely NO ONE would look at me as if I had personally stolen their childhood, their hopes, and their breakfast all at once.

  I walked to the absolute furthest corner of the hall. I sat down. Completely alone. Like the tragic protagonist of a terribly written novel.

  I picked up my spoon. I prepared to eat in miserable solitude.

  But then...

  TAP—TAP—TAP—TAP—TAP!

  The sound of footsteps. Too confident. Too synchronized.

  I looked up.

  Siren Walter—the calm, collected fencing genius—pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. Without saying a single word.

  Then came his sister, Tara. She plopped down on my other side, glaring at the rest of the dining hall as if they were all mortal enemies.

  Next were Miella and Kairen, the knightly orphans. They slammed their trays down on the table, essentially barricading me from the crowd.

  A few seconds later, Edgar hobbled over. He frowned, reached over, and dropped an extra portion of roasted meat onto my plate.

  "Eat," he grunted. "You look too pale today." (I did not look pale. I just looked deeply shocked).

  Following him was Astra, the exhausted healer. She slid a steaming cup toward me. "This is... a calming herbal tea. I thought it might be useful?" (She clearly needed it far more than I did, but I appreciated the gesture).

  Even Reynar, the wind mage who usually kept his distance, pulled up a chair close by, as if trying to shield me from the negative energy with an invisible cushion of air.

  Noah sat down too... at a distance of exactly three chairs away, but he still sat at our table.

  He muttered quietly, "I don't like people... but I don't... entirely hate you yet."

  For Noah, that was basically a confession of undying friendship.

  I blinked, looking around at the battered, bandaged group surrounding me. "Um... guys, why are you doing this...?"

  Siren cut his meat methodically. "You are in our class."

  "And no one dares insult the Elite Class," he added calmly.

  Tara glared fiercely at the staring crowd. "Even if someone," she poked me sharply in the ribs with her chopstick, "miraculously survived the labyrinth by doing absolutely nothing."

  Miella nodded firmly. "It doesn't matter. We are the Elite. We stick together."

  Kairen slammed his fist on the table. "If anyone from the standard classes says one more word about our 'weakling', I'll knock their teeth out."

  "...thank you?" I offered weakly.

  And just when I thought the situation had reached peak absurdity...

  A shadow fell over the table.

  I looked up.

  Princess Elinia Laurel. The Crown Heir herself. The Golden Crown of the Academy.

  She stood right in front of me, her arms crossed.

  The entire dining hall froze. You could hear a pin drop.

  Everyone was thinking the exact same thing: The Princess is finally going to destroy the imposter.

  Elinia slowly reached out and placed something directly on my tray.

  ...A dessert.

  The best dessert the cafeteria offered. Cream, fresh fruit, and expensive mana-syrup—an item strictly reserved for the Elite Class.

  She looked down at me and spoke quietly, her voice as cold as ice.

  "You are still an empty shell." "You are still hiding your true power." "You still irritate me immensely."

  I swallowed hard.

  She leaned in closer. "But you are a member of my class. And no one, do you hear me? NO ONE dares to insult a student of the Elite. Even if he is a complete fraud."

  And with that, she pulled out the chair directly across from me and sat down gracefully.

  The crowd: "............"

  Me: "I... I honestly just wanted to eat my lunch in peace..."

  Siren, calmly chewing his steak: "Well, there you go. Now you can eat in peace."

  The whispers in the dining hall reignited, completely frantic this time. "He's now... under the protection... of the entire Elite Class?!" "What is going on?!" "The Princess just gave him her dessert!" "This... This is a diplomatic crisis!!"

  A senior professor walked into the dining hall, saw the scene, and stopped dead in his tracks. "...Oh, Archmages preserve us. Well, we wanted the Elite Class to bond, but I didn't think it would happen quite like this..."

  The summary of my situation: My reputation was still deep in the negative. BUT... the entire Academy had officially stopped looking at me like an enemy of the state!