I've never believed in grand stages or big moments. That stuff's for people who think the world revolves around them. Me? I've always been the guy who stands just outside the spotlight. The forgotten extra in a sea of faces. The NPC in someone else's dating sim.
So when the school announced a preview performance to determine which club would get the primetime slot for the Culture Festival, I thought it had nothing to do with me. Just another noisy event I'd ghost through.
But that was before Riku Saionji sauntered in, smirking like a final boss, and challenged me to a public duel. Not with swords or fists—no, that would've been too normal.
Acting.
"I'll perform opposite Koharu in a test scene," he said, tossing his perfect hair and dazzling the Drama Club with his white-knight aura. "Let the audience decide which lead deserves center stage."
He made it sound noble. But I saw the smug glint in his eye. This wasn't about drama. This was about me.
Koharu glanced between us. "That's not fair, Riku—he's not even in the club."
"He is now," he replied smoothly, throwing me a script. "Let's see if this NPC can level up."
I wanted to walk away. I wanted to throw the script in his smug face and retreat back into obscurity. But then I felt it—a small tug on my sleeve.
Koharu.
She wasn't smiling. Not this time.
"Show them what I see in you," she said softly. "Even if you hate it... show them."
And just like that, I was trapped. Not by pride. Not by rivalry. But by her eyes.
The auditorium was half-full. Teachers, students, club members, and the bored few just here for drama (in every sense) filled the rows. I stood behind the curtain, heart pounding in my ears, script in hand.
Of course, the scene was romantic.
Of course, Riku got to go first.
He and Koharu walked onstage like they were born there. He played the tormented prince. She, the commoner girl with a secret. The dialogue was textbook shoujo fluff—he confessed, she hesitated, he reached for her hand, and the audience melted.
Applause.
I hated him.
Then it was my turn.
I walked onstage like a man marching to his own execution. The spotlight hit me like a slap. I could already hear the murmurs—"Why him?" "Isn't that the quiet guy from 2-B?" "Wasn't he with the Puzzle Club girl?"
Koharu stood across from me, smiling nervously.
I stared down at the script.
I could fake it. Read the lines, get it over with, and slink back into the shadows.
But then I remembered Riku's smirk. The way he looked at her. The way she looked back.
And something inside me snapped.
I dropped the script.
There was a ripple through the audience. Koharu blinked. "Senpai?"
I took a step forward.
"I'm not a prince," I said quietly. "I don't have charm or courage or... great hair. Hell, I barely know how to talk to people."
Laughter.
"But I know this," I continued, eyes locked on hers. "I know what it's like to feel invisible. To think your story doesn't matter. That you're just there to help someone else's plot move forward."
She stared at me, stunned.
"I used to think being invisible was safe. That if no one noticed you, they couldn't hurt you. But then you came along. Loud. Annoying. Bright."
I took another step. "You didn't treat me like background noise. You dragged me into your mess. You made me care. You made me wonder—what if I wasn't just an NPC?"
The crowd had gone silent.
I reached out—not in a practiced, romantic gesture—but like someone desperate to be seen. "So maybe I'm not the best actor. But this? This is real. If I'm gonna be part of a story... I want it to be yours."
There was a beat of stunned quiet.
Then—thunderous applause.
Backstage was a blur of noise and light and heat. People clapped me on the back. Teachers nodded in approval. The Theater Club president looked like he was about to cry.
Riku? He gave me a tight smile. "Not bad, NPC. Maybe you are a route after all."
"Still not a fan of your hair," I muttered.
Then Koharu appeared, eyes wide, cheeks red.
"That wasn't in the script," she said.
"Couldn't remember my lines," I replied.
"You said all that... just like that?"
"Yeah, well," I scratched my neck. "Guess I leveled up."
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she punched my arm.
"Ow—what was that for?!"
"For making me cry, idiot," she snapped. "Now I have to re-do my makeup for curtain call."
"You look fine. People like tears in dramas, right?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky I like emotional monologues."
"Wait—what?"
"Nothing."
She stormed off.
I stood there, heart hammering like I'd just run a marathon.
Maybe I wasn't an NPC anymore.
And maybe that terrified me more than anything.
Later, I found myself staring at the half-finished stage from the hallway window. Riku passed by, pausing next to me.
"You improvised all that?"
"Yeah."
"You've got talent. Raw. Rough. But real."
"Thanks... I think?"
"She's watching, you know."
I turned.
"Koharu," Riku added. "She was always chasing something. But now she's chasing someone."
I stayed silent.
"You're the lead now," he said. "Don't screw it up."
Then he walked off.
And I stood there, trying to figure out when the story had changed—and when I'd stopped wanting to be just part of the background.
Maybe it didn't matter.
Maybe the real plot was just beginning.