"Olivia, Olivia, An-chan—!"
Drawn by this urgent calling, Olivia and her classmates turned toward the classroom door. There stood a graceful figure rushing in with hurried steps.
The girl had long, wavy golden hair tied in a side ponytail. Her ample bosom jiggled with each stride, her shortened school skirt swaying. Her curvaceous figure should’ve drawn every eye—yet most boys barely dared to glance.
This bombshell beauty suddenly reached Olivia’s seat. With upturned, teary eyes fixed on her, Olivia blinked in confusion. Wait—hadn’t this blonde just shouted her name?
Spotting Olivia, the girl’s unstable emotions finally found an outlet. She lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Olivia’s petite frame, and sobbed uncontrollably: "Waaah~ Olivia… the thief! The thief’s been caught!!!"
Eh? No, no, no—don’t just hug strangers!
"W-wait! Hold on!"
Trapped in the passionate embrace, Olivia wriggled free. She shook her head frantically, making the classic "stop" gesture with one hand, and panted: "Just… wait a sec. Let me think…"
"Huh?" The blonde stared, puzzled. Olivia grew more confused. Who are you? Did I meet you in-game?
She strained her memory but couldn’t place this girl’s appearance… yet she felt oddly familiar. Sigh. No choice—she had to dig into the original owner’s memories. Truth was, for the past hour since transmigrating, she’d been merging them nonstop.
The method was simple: just recall. Childhood memories flashed through her mind like a film—her name, family, hobbies, even feminine habits and experiences—all imprinting onto her now.
But danger lurked. The original owner’s personality was seeping in. For instance, that girl had been sharp-tongued, with a hint of sadistic brat tendencies. Olivia’s past self hated that… yet now, she felt a strange, tempting itch.
She shook her head. Better stop here. If she kept going, she’d lose track of whether she’d possessed the original—or the original had gained her memories.
Right—the blonde! Olivia finally focused on her face. Scanning her memory sea, she slapped her thigh. "Natasha?"
"Huh? It’s me! What’s wrong? You look like you don’t know me, An-chan. Did you… lose your memory?" Natasha narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Olivia adjusted her bangs awkwardly. "N-nothing. I just dozed off in class. Woke up groggy…"
"Ugh, An-chan! You slept? That bald teacher’s terrifying!"
Olivia felt speechless. An hour ago, upon waking to a lecture, she’d panicked: good news—it wasn’t calculus. Bad news—he was explaining fireball magic’s firing principles. How was anyone supposed to follow that?
Anyway, irrelevant. That "nap" was just an excuse for merging memories.
Now confirmed: this beauty was Natasha Caffa, her best friend. Same grade, different class. They’d bonded during a freshman event, becoming inseparable outside lessons. Their rock-solid friendship earned them whispers as "the second-year delinquent duo."
Delinquent? Yes. School saw them as bully types—mostly due to Natasha’s looks. Not ugly, but her upturned eyes, sharp nose, full lips, and naturally fierce gaze, paired with long legs, screamed "revenge-story protagonist." Unapproachable.
Olivia didn’t help—cold, aloof, and sharp-tongued, she’d follow Natasha, sarcastically mocking anyone who annoyed her. One had delinquent vibes; the other, a delinquent tongue. Soon, no one dared approach them. Or maybe they were just isolated.
But Natasha wasn’t bad. A noble daughter of House Caffa befriending Olivia, a merchant’s commoner daughter? Proof of her kind—almost naive—heart.
That fierce gaze? Uncontrollable. She glared at everyone. And bullying? They’d never done it. Outsiders just judged by appearances.
Sigh. Sometimes people really do that.
Memory recall complete. Olivia sighed in relief. Oh right—this was the blonde follower from the game. These two… weren’t delinquents?!
Ahem. Okay, she’d judged by appearances too. Understandable—their game storylines were minimal.
"So, Natasha," Olivia tilted her head, steering back, "what thief? What did you find?"
Natasha snapped to attention. She smacked her forehead. "Ah! I forgot! Quick, Olivia—auditorium! The thief who stole my panties got caught! His name’s… Gawain, I think. Let’s confront him now!"
…
G-Gawain?!
