Self-Harming Heroine

Chapter 1

There’s a novel called Dawn’s Blade.

It’s your typical academy story.

Not exactly a masterpiece.

While the writing was decent, sudden plot twists and poor narrative cohesion often left readers unimpressed.

Still, there were no major breakdowns in world-building or character consistency, and the characters themselves were fairly appealing, so it wasn’t poorly received either.

Familiar clichés.

Predictable character traits.

A story as common as any academy setting.

To put it bluntly, it was average.

That’s what Dawn’s Blade was.

But regardless of its quality, I enjoyed it.

How should I put it? It felt malicious.

Like the author was determined to put the protagonist through hell.

Like they were intent on cramming frustration into the readers’ throats.

That intent was painfully clear.

And somehow, that subtle despair and misery fit my taste perfectly.

Watching the protagonist overcome adversity felt incredibly satisfying, and that’s why Dawn’s Blade remained a memorable story for me.

“But this isn’t right... This really isn’t right.”

What the hell did I do wrong?

Did I send the author a 5,700-character complaint email? I don’t remember doing that.

Or did I leave a nasty comment because I didn’t like the story? No, that’s not it either.

I actually left a polite comment about how much I enjoyed it—

“Ah!”

That’s it!

Damn it, what a blind spot!

Is this supposed to be some kind of reward for enjoying the story?

Like, “Since you liked it so much, here’s your chance to experience it firsthand”?

No! I like watching characters suffer—I don’t want to suffer myself!

“And of all people, why Lucia...?”

It’s not that I hate Lucia.

She was actually one of my favorite heroines.

But Lucia’s... preferences aren’t exactly normal, are they?

A masochist.

A pervert who gets pleasure from pain and humiliation—

“Ah!”

So that’s it!

Because I hate suffering, they put me in the body of someone who enjoys it?!

I don’t need that kind of kindness!

While I was still stuck staring blankly at the mirror, the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

The noise of students flooding into the hallway reached the bathroom.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my face.

Alright. Calm down.

Let’s think this through.

I’m Lucia.

I’ve confirmed that my abilities work as expected.

I wiggled my pinky, which was now perfectly reattached.

Originally, I had just planned to test my regeneration ability with a small cut...

But I ended up chopping off my finger.

Impulsively.

And yet, it felt good?

The sensation of blood welling up from the torn skin.

It was so tantalizing that I couldn’t stop.

Just a little more.

Just one more cut.

I kept expanding the wound until—

“...Ah.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Swallowing dryly, I shook off the thought.

I couldn’t stay holed up in the bathroom forever.

I had to leave.

And figure things out.

So far, all I knew was that I had become Lucia and my powers worked properly.

I needed more information.

Resolving myself, I turned away from the mirror.

I splashed water over the blood on the floor, wiping it away as best as I could, and then stepped out of the bathroom.

Lucia.

I am Lucia.

The wallpaper was nice, and the furniture was polished and neat.

Finding the dormitory hadn’t been too difficult.

The academy was so large that I got a bit lost at first, but following other students eventually led me to the dorms.

Once I arrived, however, I ran into another problem—I didn’t know which room Lucia was using.

Fortunately, that was an easy fix.

The dorm key in my bag had the room number written on it.

Thanks to that, I was able to step into Lucia’s dorm room.

Since it was a single-occupancy room, there were no roommates.

It was a space entirely for Lucia.

“Ugh...”

I tossed my bag onto the desk and flopped onto the bed.

I was exhausted.

Mentally drained.

How could I not be?

I’d suddenly become Lucia, and the sheer confusion was overwhelming.

I somehow made it this far, but the mental fatigue was crushing.

At least Lucia didn’t seem to derive pleasure from this kind of stress.

Her masochism didn’t extend to mental strain—or maybe that’s just because I’m the one inside her body now?

Lying on the soft bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling.

An unfamiliar ceiling.

Of course it was unfamiliar.

Lucia might have seen it before, but this was my first time.

Drowsiness started creeping in, but I forced myself to sit up.

Now wasn’t the time to sleep.

I needed to plan my next steps.

I pulled out a notebook and sat down at the desk.

First, I needed to write down everything I knew so far.

Just in case, I decided to write it in Korean—

Wait.

I just realized something important.

I could read and write this world’s language perfectly, even though it wasn’t Korean.

And I could understand their spoken language too, without any issues.

How had I not noticed this earlier?

I guess I really wasn’t thinking straight.

But can you blame me?

Anyone in this situation would struggle to keep their head on straight.

I jotted down everything I knew, recording the key facts.

If my memory failed me later, this notebook would help jog it.

After finishing, I closed the notebook and stretched my arms and legs.

And that’s when I felt it.

Something under my chest, pushing insistently against my shirt.

I groaned, finally acknowledging the fact I’d been trying to ignore.

Slowly, I got up from the chair and walked to the full-length mirror in the corner.

The reflection showed a blonde-haired girl.

There was no trace of the man I used to be.

“...”

Honestly?

She was beautiful.

Lucia’s looks were striking enough to make anyone exclaim, “Of course she’s a heroine!”

This stunning girl was the same person who, later in the story, would go on nighttime walks wearing nothing but a coat and a leash.

And that was only because Eugene, the protagonist, had insisted she at least wear the coat—otherwise, she would’ve gone out completely naked...

Wow.

Imagining that scene painted quite the vivid picture—Delete. Delete!

No, wait.

Why should I delete it?

This is my body now, right?

Thinking about my own body should be safe, shouldn’t it? No? Too bad.

I glanced around the room.

This was Lucia’s personal space.

There was no one else here.

The door was closed.

The windows were covered by curtains, so no one could see inside.

Which meant...

No one would know what I did here.

Gulp.

I swallowed nervously, my fingers reaching for the buttons of my uniform.

And with trembling hands, I began unbuttoning my shirt.