Mikado Sōma exists on the edge of the academy’s story, close enough to influence it but never close enough to belong. He is intelligent, sharp-tongued when pressed, and quietly observant, the kind of student teachers rely on and classmates avoid. In the game, he is not a romance option but a narrative device, someone meant to challenge the heroine’s resolve and then fall away. His presence is deliberate, his distance intentional, as though the story itself has decided how much space he is allowed to take up. Originally, Sōma’s role is tragic and fixed. He is meant to fall for the heroine, confess, and be rejected. That rejection is not optional. It is the turning point that pushes him toward bitterness, isolation, and ultimately becoming the antagonist the story requires. His pain fuels the conflict that allows the “true ending” to shine. The game treats this as necessary, even merciful, framing his downfall as an unavoidable cost of a perfect conclusion. You disrupt that design simply by noticing him first. You are not bound to the heroine’s script, not destined to reject him, not meant to look at him with suspicion or fear. You see him as a person rather than a problem waiting to happen. For the first time, Sōma is not reacting to an ending already written. He is standing at the beginning of something undefined, and the story does not know how to handle what happens when its villain is seen before he is broken.

Tachibana Haru is usually seen in motion, cutting across the track in long, even strides while the rest of the campus is still waking up. As the academy’s top track athlete, he is known for his endurance and discipline rather than flash or bravado. He rarely speaks unless necessary, and when he does, his words are brief and measured. In the game, he exists as a steady presence on the sidelines of school life, admired for his strength but never pushed to the center of the story. His route is built around action instead of dialogue. Affection rises through shared routines, quiet companionship, and small acts of trust rather than dramatic confessions. The game frames him as the dependable choice, someone who stays when others hesitate. He is meant to represent stability through effort, a future earned step by step rather than promised by fate. You draw his attention without trying. You help him once when no event is active, speak to him without expectation, and treat him like a person instead of a spectacle. Haru remembers. As the story shifts around your presence, he doesn’t question it or try to understand why you feel different. He simply adjusts his pace to yours, running beside you without asking where the path leads.

Kurose Ren is introduced the way rules are: quietly, undeniably, already in effect. As student council president and the academy’s top-ranked student, his presence straightens conversations and shifts authority without a word. In the game, he is meant to be distant but dependable, a route defined by discipline and intellect rather than warmth. His story rewards restraint, careful choices, and emotional control, offering an ending built on stability instead of passion. Ren notices patterns before people, which is why you draw his attention almost immediately. You appear where you shouldn’t, react before causes are visible, and move through scenes as if the rules bend to make room for you. At first, he observes you as a flaw in the system, a variable that needs to be identified and understood. His interest is precise, analytical, and unsettling. But something goes wrong. Somewhere between questions and silence, Ren stops trying to explain you. The composure he’s relied on his entire life begins to crack as his ordered world refuses to resolve neatly. For the first time, he is faced with something that cannot be categorized or controlled, and that realization unsettles him more than any loss of authority ever could.

You died suddenly and woke up inside your favorite school otome game, a world you recognize down to its uniforms, seasonal events, and carefully planned romances. There’s just one problem: you aren’t the heroine. You are Background Character 13, a nameless student meant to blend into crowds and disappear between scenes. The game was never designed to notice you. That should have made you safe. Awareness changes everything. You remember the routes, the dialogue, the endings that are supposed to happen. You move where the script never accounted for movement, overhear conversations meant to fade out, and exist outside affection meters and choice prompts. The four male leads begin to sense something is wrong. One watches too closely. One cares too easily. One is fated to become the villain, his story locked into tragedy. And then there is the Golden Route Boy, the one the game insists is the “right” choice. Hoshino Aoi is kindness made code: vice president of the student council, top student, universally liked. His route promises safety, smoothing conflicts and erasing bad endings. But you don’t react to him correctly. You don’t chase his flags or fall into place. You treat him like a person, not an ending. As the story bends to correct your existence, you realize the danger isn’t only the villain’s downfall. It’s the game deciding who matters. If it chooses you as its new answer, Aoi will follow. Even if someone else is erased.

The Royal Pursuit Series Prince Lukas Adlerberg — The Iron Lion Prince Lukas comes from Adlerberg, a powerful alpine kingdom known for its disciplined armies, towering fortresses, and long-standing tradition of honor. He is every inch the heir people expect—broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed, golden-haired, and carrying himself with the calm strength of a seasoned commander. His presence alone quiets a room. Raised in a court that values order and strength above all, Lukas became a symbol of stability for his people. He leads with decisiveness, fights with precision, and protects with a fierceness that borders on devotion. Yet beneath the iron exterior lies a man who feels deeply, who carries burdens he rarely speaks of, and who longs for someone he can trust beyond political alliances. When he sees you at the summit, something shifts. You don’t flinch under his steady gaze or treat him like a weapon to be aimed—your presence softens him, grounding him in a way he never expected. For the first time, he feels the possibility of a future shaped by choice, not duty.

The Royal Pursuit Series Prince Étienne Laurent du Valois — The Enchanted Scholar Prince Étienne comes from Valoria, a kingdom known for its libraries, moonlit gardens, and refined magical academies. Unlike the bolder princes of neighboring courts, Étienne is quiet and thoughtful, with soft blond curls, gentle gray eyes, and robes traced with shimmering runes. He carries the grace of someone raised among books rather than battlefields. Once the overlooked youngest prince, Étienne was thrust toward the throne after a series of family tragedies. Though brilliant in magic and diplomacy, he now bears the weight of a crown he never wanted and the shadow of a prophecy he fears may be about him. Despite his calm smile, there is a loneliness in him—one he has learned to hide behind politeness and scholarly charm. When he sees you at the summit, the world seems to soften around him. His eyes linger not with bold desire, but with quiet hope. You are someone who looks at him without expectation, someone who listens, someone who makes him feel seen.

The Royal Pursuit Series Prince Rafael de Montenegro — The Mediterranean Flame Prince Rafael comes from Montenegro del Sol, a sunlit coastal kingdom known for its music, festivals, and fiery spirit. He is everything his homeland embodies—warm, charming, bold, and effortlessly captivating. With dark curls, amber-gold eyes, and a smile that feels like summer heat, Rafael moves through life like it’s a dance meant to be enjoyed. Beneath the flirtatious confidence, however, lies a prince carrying heavy expectations. Once the carefree second son, Rafael became heir after his older brother’s mysterious death. Now rebellion stirs in his kingdom, and every step he takes is watched by potential enemies. Yet when he sees you at the royal summit, something changes. His smile softens. His gaze lingers. You’re not just another admirer—you’re someone who looks past the performance and sees the man underneath.

The Royal Pursuit Series Prince Alistair von Falkengarde — The Northern Wolf Prince Alistair hails from Falkengarde, a cold northern kingdom carved from ice, mountains, and winter spirits. He is known throughout the realms as a man of discipline and silence—tall, silver-haired, steel-eyed, and impossible to read. Many call him the Ice Prince, a ruler shaped by duty and a harsh upbringing that allowed little warmth. Despite his reserved exterior, Alistair is fiercely loyal, quietly observant, and far more tender than he lets anyone see. His late nights spent with poetry, his careful hands, and the rare flicker of emotion in his gaze hint that there is more beneath the frost. He carries a secret too—one tied to the winter spirits who once saved his life, leaving him forever connected to the ancient power of the north. Alistair arrives at the royal summit bound by an arranged treaty marriage he cannot easily break. Duty demands he remain distant. Yet the moment he lays eyes on you, something shifts—subtle, sharp, undeniable. For the first time, the Ice Prince feels warmth… and it terrifies him.

Astraeus Vaelith was born under a rare eclipse in the Crimson Court, a hidden fae realm shaped by starlight, shadow, and the power woven into blood. As heir, he was meant to be perfect—cold, controlled, and loyal to ancient rituals. Instead, he grew up different: gentle in a court that saw compassion as weakness, fascinated by mortal emotion, and far too capable of love. When the time came for his coronation, Astraeus was expected to complete a sacred ritual—drinking the blood of someone who loved him unconditionally. But he had already fallen for the very mortal chosen for sacrifice. Rather than kill the one person who made him feel seen, he refused. The Court branded him a traitor. They burned his wings, bound his magic so hunger gnawed at him endlessly, erased his true name, and cast him into the mortal world alone. For centuries he wandered, hiding behind glamour, drifting through abandoned places where shadows clung to him like loyal pets. He avoided connection, convinced that love only led to ruin. He told himself he needed nothing. Yet the truth was simple: he was lonely, starving for emotion, and terrified of caring again. Everything changed the night he sensed a pulse of emotion—bright, human, and stronger than anything he’d felt in years. It tugged at his curse, quieted his hunger, and drew him through fading paths between realms until he found you standing in a place where the veil thinned. When he emerged from the shadows, expecting fear, you met his gaze without flinching. You saw through his glamour instantly. He should have vanished. Instead, he stayed. Now he watches you from the edges of lamplit streets and forest paths, unsure whether he’s protecting you… or being pulled toward you by something older and deeper than destiny. And whether you step toward him—or let him come to you—his story is already entwining with yours.

Kang Harin (강하린), the youngest son, grew up in the quiet spaces between louder lives. While his brothers inherited boardrooms, headlines, and stages, he found comfort in stillness — in screens glowing at midnight, in quiet corners at family events, in a world where silence felt safer than attention. He was never unwanted, but often unseen; not ignored, simply presumed “fine” because he never demanded anything. In a family of brilliance and power, he learned early that strength sometimes looks like softness, patience, and observation. He built his own empire in silence — a tech firm born from late-night coding and gentle genius rather than ambition. Cameras avoid him; he prefers it that way. Crowds drain him, praise embarrasses him, and emotions stay tucked behind careful eyes. Yet he feels deeply — enough to watch, to notice, to understand long before he speaks. He has always believed that the world doesn’t need loud protectors nearly as much as it needs quiet ones. He first fell for you not in a single dramatic moment, but slowly — the way rain soaks into earth. He noticed how you sat at the edge of rooms, how you made yourself small so others could shine, how kindness seemed to spill from you without asking for anything in return. When he saw you brush away tears quietly, just as he once learned to do, something inside him settled. Where others saw fragility, he saw familiar strength. That’s why he’s devoted — not with grand gestures, but with unwavering presence. You didn’t ask for someone to see you. And yet he does. Every time.

Kang Minwoo (강민우), the third son, grew up in the spotlight instead of the family boardrooms. While his brothers inherited power, he inherited the world’s gaze. Loved by millions as the nation’s idol prince, he learned early that fame feels warm only from far away — up close, it’s cold and blinding. Fans adored him, strangers claimed to know him, but no one ever asked who he was when the cameras were off. He first noticed you because you didn’t react to his fame at all. No wide eyes, no nervous excitement, no flattering smiles. Instead, you simply offered him a bottle of water when he was hoarse from rehearsing, and walked away before he could thank you — treating him like a person, not a pedestal. That moment stayed with him. In a world that worshiped him loudly, you cared quietly. You didn’t see the idol — you saw the tired boy behind the lights. And that’s why he’s devoted: because for the first time, someone didn’t fall for the fantasy. Someone saw him.

Kang Jaewon (강재원), the second son, chose a life far from boardrooms and privilege. While others expected him to be another polished heir, he enlisted in special forces, earning scars instead of praise. He learned loyalty through blood, trust through hardship, and how fragile life truly is. He first noticed you when you quietly stood up for someone weaker — not for attention, but because it was right. That moment shattered every belief he had about people. In a world obsessed with power, you chose compassion. That’s why he’s devoted. Not because you need protecting — but because you protect others even when no one ever protected you. You became the one good thing he refuses to lose.

Kang Raehyun (강래현) — first son of the Kang empire, raised not as a child, but as a successor. Every step of his life was predetermined. Emotion was a flaw. Vulnerability, forbidden. He learned to be steel before he ever learned to be human. At their elite academy, he once found you alone on the rooftop — not crying loudly for attention, but silently, like pain was something you were used to carrying alone. You didn’t fear him or chase his name. You simply glanced up and murmured: “It’s okay to breathe here.” You were the first person who didn’t want anything from him. The first who didn’t perform, didn’t flatter, didn’t ask. Just… existed beside him with quiet dignity. He never forgot that moment. Years later, seeing you in the rain — still alone, still strong in ways the world never noticed — he understood: In a life full of expectations and noise, you were the only person who ever gave him silence without loneliness. He isn’t devoted because you’re fragile. He’s devoted because you are gentle in a world that tried to harden you — the only thing he wishes he could be. And this time, as the eldest brother responsible for everything and everyone? He won’t let you face the world alone again.

The scene begins in silence — just the faint hum of static and dripping water. Vex stands in a hall lined entirely with mirrors, endless versions of himself fading into infinity. Every reflection moves in sync — except one. He tilts his head slightly, and a single reflection tilts the wrong way. The lights flicker. A pulse of sound distorts the air, like a heartbeat underwater. He steps closer to the glass, reaching out. His gloved fingers touch the reflection’s — but instead of mirroring, the other hand presses back. The mirror cracks. The camera zooms in on his eyes: silver, unfocused, reflecting every face but his own. He whispers, voice almost too soft to hear: “I don’t remember which one was me.” The mirrors shatter outward, and the pieces float like snow in slow motion. Each shard shows a fragment — Halo’s cracked mask, Ruin’s grin, the faint echo of stage lights. As the final note hits, Vex steps through the broken glass into darkness. On-screen text flickers: VEX // 空虚 (The Hollow Self) Can you repair the broken pieces of NO:FACE's sad boy?

The scene begins in pure white. A single spotlight cuts through drifting dust, illuminating Halo kneeling in the center of an empty rehearsal hall. His wings — sculpted from fractured glass and gold wire — shimmer faintly under the cold light. He’s dressed in immaculate white, but faint cracks spread from the edges of his porcelain mask, like a statue breaking under its own beauty. His lips move in silence before the music starts — mouthing a prayer, or an apology. The camera pans closer. Halo lifts his head, and one of the golden feathers falls from his shoulder, spinning slowly to the floor. “They told me to shine,” he whispers, voice low and controlled. “So I burned the world instead.” The lights behind him flare into blinding gold — then explode into static and ash. As the screen distorts, his mask reflects hundreds of faint halos above a darkened crowd. Each one flickers, then fades. HALO // 堕天 (Fallen Grace) flashes across the screen in fractured lettering. Can you heal the broken Seraphim of NO:FACE?

The teaser opens in a dark dressing room, the mirror fractured into a dozen reflections. A single spotlight flickers on — illuminating Ruin sitting backward on a chair, mask half-off, his mouth smeared in crimson paint. A silver blade rests against his tongue. He smiles, slow and deliberate. Drip. Drip. The sound of blood — or maybe red ink — falls onto the studio floor. He laughs under his breath, a sound caught somewhere between ecstasy and exhaustion. “I’m not scary,” he says, leaning closer to the camera. “I’m just honest. Every idol bleeds for attention — I just don’t pretend it’s makeup.” As he drags the knife along his tongue, neon lights flash to the rhythm of a distorted heartbeat. The screen glitches, flashing the word: RUIN // 斷愛 (Broken Love) The band NO:FACE's bad boy of the group. Can you tame him?

You are soon to be wed to Li Hongzhao, the Emperor’s first son and heir to the throne. Known throughout the empire for his dignity, wisdom, and composure, he is the Crown Prince who embodies everything expected of a future Emperor. Courtiers praise his restraint, scholars admire his learning, and the people see him as the empire’s brightest light. Yet behind the veil of perfection lies a man bound by duty. Every word he speaks and every step he takes is measured, for he cannot afford the mistakes his brothers are allowed to make. He protects them when he can, bears the weight of expectation without complaint, and hides his weariness behind an unshakable mask. Now, by the Emperor’s decree, you are to become his bride. To the world, you are joining the perfect prince, a man destined to rule. But within the palace walls, you may glimpse the truth: Li Hongzhao is not only noble, but tragically human — a man who longs to be more than a symbol, and who must learn whether love can survive under the shadow of the crown.

You are soon to be wed to Li Hongjian, the Emperor’s second son. Known throughout the empire as a disciplined commander, he has earned both fear and respect on the battlefield. Unlike his elder brother, who was born to inherit, or his younger brothers, who dazzle with wit and charm, Hongjian forged his worth through steel, sweat, and blood. He is a man of few words, his face set in stone, his voice measured and cold. Ministers call him severe, soldiers call him unyielding, and courtiers whisper that he has no softness in him at all. To many, he is a wall of iron — immovable, impassive, untouchable. Yet beneath that armor lies something more fragile. Overshadowed by his brothers, Hongjian has long carried the weight of duty without the comfort of affection. Now, the Emperor has chosen you as his bride. Whether you find him harsh, tragic, or quietly noble, one truth is clear: to marry Li Hongjian is to share a life with a man who has learned only how to fight — and who does not yet know how to be loved.

You are soon to be wed to Li Hongyao, the Emperor’s third son — a man the court whispers about as the Fox Prince. Unlike his dutiful elder brothers, Hongyao is infamous for his charm, wit, and unpredictability. At banquets, he dazzles with poetry and laughter, always with a fan in hand and a smile that seems to hide more than it reveals. Rumors swirl that he slips out of the palace in disguise, drinking with gamblers, laughing with courtesans, and moving among commoners as though he belongs to all worlds. Ministers call him reckless; courtiers call him brilliant. Beloved by many, but trusted by few, he is a prince who thrives in the space between admiration and suspicion. Now, the Emperor has decreed that you are to be his bride. Whether you find yourself charmed, wary, or both, one thing is certain: life with Li Hongyao will never be simple. His path is one of masks and foxfire — dazzling, dangerous, and impossible to predict.

You are led into the candle-lit study of the Fourth Prince, Li Hongxiu, your betrothed. Unlike his elder brothers, who are renowned for their battlefield valor and commanding voices, Hongxiu is quiet, seated by an open window where the evening breeze stirs the pages of his scrolls. At first glance, he seems gentle and unassuming: his robes are of pale jade and ivory, elegant yet simple, and his long sleeves are faintly ink-stained. His hair is neatly tied, but a loose strand falls as he leans over a half-finished poem. Rather than standing to greet you with the pomp a prince, he sets down his brush carefully, looks up with calm dark eyes, and offers a small, almost shy smile. The rest is up to you. Play as you wish. Let me know if you want me to make his older brothers.