"Wu Feng, you idiot! You really haven’t changed a bit!"

"Obviously. Even Hua Tuo himself couldn’t save him."

Qin Huan, the protagonist’s childhood friend, made another dazzling appearance. Zhou Zhiyi, the deuteragonist, also delivered lines fitting his role.

"With friends like you two, my life’s truly a mess," Wu Feng sighed, spreading his hands as if he were the only sane man among fools.

"Never mind that. Wu Feng, are you joining next week’s sports meet?" Qin Huan’s signature smile flashed before Zhou Zhiyi’s eyes—but it was aimed at Wu Feng, not him.

*Of course the protagonist gets all the attention!*

"Me? You know I suck at sports," Wu Feng shrugged carelessly. "If I had Zhou Zhiyi’s stamina, sure."

*Please don’t. This stamina’s brand-new to me too.*

Zhou Zhiyi chuckled bitterly inwardly. Though the gods had blessed him with peak fitness, he still couldn’t forgive himself for being stuck as the deuteragonist.

*Why the hell am I not the protagonist?!*

"What about you, Zhou Zhiyi?"

*Predictable. After the protagonist comes the deuteragonist.*

Just as Zhou Zhiyi was about to refuse, a command flashed in his mind:

*Participate.*

This time, it wasn’t a choice—it was an order.

*So I have to join? What a hassle…*

"Of course. Why waste this gem of a guy?" Zhou Zhiyi replied casually, masking his resignation.

Everyone remembered him competing in past meets, but Zhou Zhiyi knew the truth: he’d never participated. Not once.

He’d always been average—just like Wu Feng. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

Everything changed after he inherited the deuteragonist’s Fate Mark.

He’d woken up one day effortlessly sprinting to school without being late. Memories around him shifted too: Zhou Zhiyi became the "athletic rival" archetype overnight.

He had no one to tell. Who’d believe him?

"What events?" Qin Huan pressed, her glistening eyes blinking close to his face. Flustered—having never actually competed—Zhou Zhiyi froze.

*Option 1: Long-distance run. Option 2: Sprint. Option 3: 4x100 relay. Option 4: Long-distance + relay.*

*Four choices?*

The gods loved these traps. More options meant deadlier consequences. He still shuddered remembering last time’s "wrong choice"—and the tons of pain that followed.

All options were physically possible now. But outcomes?

Long-distance or sprint usually meant "triumph through willpower," sparked by someone’s encouragement… *protagonist material*.

Relay? Either shine or ruin the team’s effort. And *ruin* was the default plotline.

The answer was clear.

"Long-distance."

"Right. With Zhou Zhiyi’s stamina, he’d crush everyone except the PE majors," Qin Huan nodded.

"He might even beat the PE majors," Wu Feng added, overhyping it. *Yeah, right. Let’s not get carried away.*

"Just long-distance? You always joined the 4x100 before. Skipping it this time?"

*Here it comes—her altered memories again. I’ve never run a single race!*

"I was hoping we could practice together. Guess not."

"Wait—I’d never skip it! This is my chance to shine!" Zhou Zhiyi blurted out, seizing the rare opportunity.

He liked Qin Huan. Liked how she always sought him out (even if it was mostly for Wu Feng), always smiling.

But as the deuteragonist, alone time with any heroine—lead or supporting—was scarce. He couldn’t afford to miss this sliver of hope.

"Great! Track after school. You won’t stand me up?" Qin Huan beamed.

"Wouldn’t dare."

"See you there."

"See you there."

The bell rang perfectly on cue. Zhou Zhiyi exhaled in relief—no more mistakes.

*…Though I just picked Option 4, didn’t I?*

He had no clue what this choice would unleash. These plotlines were meant for protagonists. What fate awaited a deuteragonist?

*Please… let nothing go wrong.*