Chapter 162: Iris Star [1]

Name:I Killed The Main Characters Author:


༺ Noah's POV ༻

As Mari and I stepped into the hall, I couldn't help but scan the room.

Seniors were scattered among the first years.

Handpicked students from the second and third years, likely invited to intimidate and inspire.

Among the clusters of chatting students, I spotted them.

Maya, Ariana, and Draven seated together at a table near the far side of the hall.

Typical.

They always seemed to find one another like moths to a flame.

Draven's casual slouch, Ariana's composed demeanor, and Maya's pointed glances around the room confirmed what I already suspected.

They'd notice me if I approached.

No thanks.

"Come on, Mari."

I gestured toward an unoccupied table at the opposite end of the hall.

Her steps were tentative as she followed me, her nervousness practically radiating off her.

I didn't care to offer her reassurance.

It wasn't my job to coddle her insecurities.

We sat, and for a while, the silence between us stretched, interrupted only by the sound of clinking glasses and muffled conversations around the hall.

"Mari..."

I said abruptly, turning to her.

"Get me a glass of red wine.

And while you're at it, feel free to get yourself something too."

She blinked, startled by the order, but quickly nodded and left the table.

I leaned back, observing the room again, hoping the time would pass quickly.

Before long, a group of first-years hesitantly approached my table.

Their steps faltered as they drew closer, their wide-eyed expressions practically dripping with awe and apprehension.

"Um... Noah Ashbourne?"

One of them ventured, a boy with sandy hair and an overly enthusiastic smile.

I didn't respond immediately, letting the silence settle and their nerves fester.

'... Sigh... Here goes... '

Finally, I turned to them, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"Well, we were wondering—"

The boy began, only to be interrupted by a dark-haired girl at his side.

"You're the top student, aren't you?

From the second years?

The hands were soft, their skin cool and smooth, resting lightly on my chest.

I froze, my grip tightening on the glass in my hand.

As I turned my head slightly, a figure leaned forward, her head coming into view.

She had striking black hair tied into two elegant ponytails at the sides, framing a delicate face.

Her glasses, perched perfectly on her nose, only accentuated her sharp, captivating red eyes.

Her lashes were long, framing those eyes like dark curtains.

Her lips curved into a playful smile as she tilted her head, meeting my gaze.

"Why are you here?"

I said, keeping my voice calm, disinterested, and every bit as arrogant as expected of me.

"Shouldn't you be with the other first years?"

A soft, melodious laugh followed, warm yet sharp, as if teasing the very notion.

"I didn't want to be with the kids," she said, resting her chin lightly on my shoulder.

"And besides, I wanted to see my lovely dove."

So, she had come to the academy.

I shifted slightly in my seat, careful to keep my expression neutral.

This girl—was no mere acquaintance.

I turned my gaze just enough to catch her face, framed by her striking black hair, the ends curling delicately like ink bleeding into water.

Her crimson eyes sparkled, like twin rubies alight with mischief.

I hardly needed a reminder.

She was etched in both my fragmented memories and the novel's storyline.

A quick use of my skill, [Character Catalogue], confirmed what I already knew.

---

[Character Catalogue]

Iris Von Star

Age: 18

Importance: Major character in the storyline.

---

The details filled my mind in a cascade, as if reciting the prose of her description.

She was a duaghter of House Star, the second most prestigious family in the empire.

Second only to the Ashbournes and a childhood friend of Noah.

Her poise, her grace, her confidence—all of it reflected the immense power and influence she wielded.

Despite her noble upbringing, she bore no cruelty.

She was a paradox, sweet and kind.

More importantly, she was obsessed with me—Noah Ashbourne.

Or rather, the man she believed me to be.