The Heroine Stole My Regression-Chapter 107

A cozy, quaint café on Gaon Academy grounds.

Most students came here with their partners or in groups of girls for idle chatter.

There were open tables, of course, but also small private rooms that could seat four or five.

In one such room, sat three objectively beautiful students.

“Sluurp.”

With a soft sound, Kang Arin took a sip of her coffee.

She casually brushed her hair back and set the cup down with practiced grace.

Across from her sat Ha Sion and Yu Hana.

This was a monthly, unspoken ritual.

Arin had said it herself months ago:

“Report anomalies in the chat. No bragging. Just variables.”

But the group chat had long since devolved into a place for showing off, not reporting.

So, like it or not, they continued their in-person meetings.

Whether they kept gathering because they genuinely had something to see in each other's faces—who could say. It just kept happening.

And usually, the conversation was straightforward:

The future, key information, upcoming developments.

They all knew better than to waste energy on petty emotional skirmishes.𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

So, the four of them had once made a silent agreement:

No exhausting conflicts until someone obtains a Fragment.

With the important topics out of the way, it was time for some small talk.

“Finals, huh.”

Yu Hana was the first to bring it up.

“So it seems.”

Kang Arin stirred her coffee without emotion.

“…We’re all on the Blue Team, though.”

Ha Sion nodded slightly.

“Cheon-gaya is on White. So is he.”

Yu Hana added quietly.

Her voice was soft—but the final words carried weight.

“Annoying. We’re not even allowed to talk to the other team now.”

Ha Sion grumbled.

It made sense.

The exam format had been revealed yesterday, and from today, Blue and White Teams had been completely separated.

Originally, Cheon Yeoul was supposed to attend today’s meeting too.

But as a member of the White Team, being with Jeong Haein wasn’t an issue for her.

And Cheon Yeoul, of all people, wouldn’t miss a good opportunity—so naturally, she skipped the meeting.

Gaon’s approach to exams was always about "realism."

Treat the exam like it’s real combat—meaning even preparation had to reflect that.

There were no tea parties or friendly chats between Heroes and Demon forces in the field.

Of course, there were exceptions. But not today.

“It's just… a shame.”

Kang Arin responded as usual—flatly, unaffected.

She’d recently had some exclusive time with Jeong Haein, so she was relatively calm.

The ones likely burning inside were Yu Hana and Ha Sion.

But Yu Hana tilted her head at Arin’s words and asked quietly:

“…Is it really a shame?”

A pause filled the room.

“What do you mean?” Ha Sion asked.

Yu Hana didn’t answer—instead, she tapped at her watch.

A moment later, both Arin and Sion received an alert.

Ding.

Ding.

A map of Gaon’s battlefield lit up on their screens.

Certain zones had been highlighted in blue.

Marked by Yu Hana herself.

“Resurrection Points.” she said simply.

“……”

“You know the mechanics, right? If you revive someone, part of their score gets bound to you. And there’s a neural resonance too…”

She set her cup down slowly.

“It’s basically a contract. In exchange for resurrection, they become your subordinate—for the duration of the exam.”

“Ah…”

Ha Sion’s eyes widened as the realization hit.

Even if someone from the enemy team—like herself—were eliminated…

If Jeong Haein took pity and revived her, she’d be with him again.

As his loyal companion.

“That… might not be so bad.” Ha Sion murmured.

Yu Hana stood from her seat.

“Think it over.”

She walked away quietly.

The soft music of the café filled the space again.

As if nothing had ever happened.

***

Gaon Academy’s atmosphere had completely changed.

Starting today.

All lectures had been suspended—rebranded as “self-study.”

The curriculum up to the final exam had already been covered.

Now, everything revolved around preparing for finals.

And as teams were split, students began grouping up in various corners of campus instead of classrooms.

Even so, the Gaon grounds felt noticeably emptier.

That was because…

Second-years, third-years, and fourth-years often took their finals off-site.

With their exams already scheduled externally, they’d left campus.

“See you alive afterward!”

The upperclassmen in the board game club had joked like that for a reason.

Now, only the first-years remained at Gaon.

It was a time of freedom—but also of subtle, sharp # Nоvеlight # tension.

And today…

I was spending time with Cheon Yeoul.

Practical exams were one thing, but the written test couldn’t be ignored.

Unlike the midterms, which only covered basic spiritual techniques, the finals dove into intermediate applications.

More complex. Much tougher.

Cheon Yeoul had asked for help, and I’d casually agreed.

“Starting to get it?”

“…Mmm.”

She shook her head.

Understandable—it was a tough subject.

But she had decent focus, so she’d catch up with time.

“Why is this fun?”

Of course, Yoon Chaeha was there too.

She was on the same team, so we figured we might as well study together.

And she’d been quietly working through her spiritual technique book all on her own.

No one even asked her to.

I paused, glancing her way at her question.

That’s just how studying is.

For some, it’s a burden. For others, a puzzle.

Not that I was specifically referring to Chaeha or Yeoul.

“Let’s wrap it up for today?”

I closed my book as I spoke.

“We should start talking about the practical test. Sitting too long makes your brain dull…”

The second I said it, Cheon Yeoul closed her textbook with dramatic force—like she’d been waiting.

She tilted her head up, eyes sparkling, one brow raised playfully.

Relief. Satisfaction. Her lips already curling into a grin.

Yoon Chaeha, in contrast, closed her book with mild disappointment.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking at me in silence.

Two pairs of eyes locked onto me at once.

Waiting for what I’d say next.

Watching even the smallest twitch of my lips.

I let out a bitter smile.

There was a certain amusement in seeing their different reactions.

But lately, I’d been feeling something else.

Not certainty—but a kind of gut instinct.

Cheon Yeoul. Yoon Chaeha. And others.

Their eyes. Their tone. The smallest actions.

All of it felt like it was piling up—quiet clues that they were moving beyond just "friends."

It would be a lie to deny it.

And frankly, I welcomed it.

Because we were heading into challenges that no ordinary connection could survive.

Someone will die.

And someone else will have to fill that void.

Most of that burden will fall on me—but we’ll all have to survive together.

And forging deeper, stronger bonds was the right path.

So yes, I supported the idea of "more than friends."

However—

“…Are they starting to like me?”

Lately, I’d begun to wonder if it was turning into something romantic.

Some might call that delusional self-importance, but for me—I had to be ready for every possibility.

Even if that were true, right now…

Pretending not to notice was the best course.

It’s not that I disliked the idea.

These were characters I’d created. Built.

Each one of them was incredibly appealing—and I cared about them deeply.

And besides—

"I’m a man too."

Attraction to a beautiful woman was only natural.

But at the moment, I couldn’t afford to be swayed.

I had a duty—to support the core characters and help them grow.

If anything slipped, the balance we had might crumble beyond repair.

At least, not until they obtained their Fragments.

Until then, I wouldn’t allow myself to see them in that way.

A regular player might shrug and say, “Eh, what’s the harm?”

But I wasn’t a player anymore.

This was real.

And everyone felt real.

It would prick at both my conscience—and my responsibility.

I stood up and said:

“I’ll go grab us something to drink.”

Both girls opened their mouths at the same time—but I beat them to it.

“Iced chocolate and strawberry latte, right?”

Their eyes lit up.

As if surprised I remembered.

No words were exchanged, but the air felt warm. Comfortable.

For now—this was just right.