I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Arthur woke up the next morning feeling like he had been beaten with a bag of bricks.

His muscles ached just from getting out of bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, hoping the transmigration was just a fever dream.

It wasn’t.

He dragged himself to the mirror and splashed cold water on his face. He put on the standard first-year uniform of Lornfell Academy—a dark grey jacket, black trousers, and a white shirt.

Alright. Day one of not being a pathetic loser, he thought, adjusting his collar.

He grabbed his bag, left the cramped first-year dorms, and stepped out into the crisp morning air.

Immediately, reality hit him in the face.

Lornfell Academy was vast. It wasn’t some mystical, floating fairy-tale castle. It was a massive, sprawling military-style fortress designed to train killers. There were endless cobblestone paths, massive training arenas, alchemy wings, and miles of dense forest surrounding the perimeter.

The main academic building was located at the very center of the campus. From the lower-tier dorms, it was a solid twenty-minute walk up a steady incline.

For a normal student with a baseline strength stat of twenty, it was a light morning stroll.

For Arthur, it was a death march.

Five minutes in, his chest was on fire.

Ten minutes in, he was wheezing like an old man with a pack-a-day smoking habit.

”Fuck,” Arthur gasped, leaning heavily against a stone pillar along the pathway. He clutched his chest, trying to pull air into his burning lungs.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.

[Trait Activated: Weak Lungs (Lv.3)]

[Stamina depletion increased by 300%.]

I am going to kill the original Arthur all over again, he cursed inwardly. Who the fuck maxes out stealth and perception but completely ignores cardio? What kind of stalker doesn’t have the stamina to run away if he gets caught?

Other students walked past him in groups. They were laughing, chatting, carrying heavy weapon bags on their shoulders without breaking a sweat. A few of them glanced at Arthur wheezing by the pillar.

”Is that Vance?” a guy muttered to his friend. ”Yeah. Creep can’t even walk to class. Pathetic.”

Arthur ignored them. He didn’t care about the opinions of background characters. He just focused on forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Laugh all you want, he thought, pushing himself off the pillar and forcing his legs to keep moving. In six months, I’ll be clearing out the advanced dungeons while you idiots are still struggling with basic slimes.

It took him another agonizing fifteen minutes to finally reach the main building.

By the time he climbed the wide stone steps to the first-year block, his shirt was sticking to his back with sweat. His legs were shaking.

He pushed open the heavy oak door to his first class—Magic Theory.

The classroom was built like an amphitheater. Rows of wooden desks sloped upward, facing a large chalkboard and a podium at the bottom. It was already half-full.

Arthur ignored the stares. He dragged his feet up the side aisle and slumped into a desk in the very back row, entirely out of breath.

He dropped his head onto the cool wood of the desk, panting heavily.

I need that stamina elixir under the bell tower, he thought, his vision swimming slightly. I need it tonight. I can’t survive another commute like this.

”Are you dying, human? Your breathing is repulsive.”

Arthur didn’t even lift his head. He recognized that arrogant, melodic voice immediately.

He turned his head to the side. Sitting two desks away was Elara. The Elf Princess.

She was flawless. Long silver hair, perfectly pointed ears, and pale, porcelain skin. She wore the female academy uniform, but she had tailored the skirt to be just a little shorter, exposing her smooth, slender thighs.

She was looking down her nose at him, a look of pure disgust on her beautiful face.

The original Arthur would have stuttered, apologized, and probably thanked her for speaking to him.

Arthur just closed his eyes.

”Then plug your ears, Princess,” he rasped, his voice rough from coughing. ”Or go sit somewhere else. I’m trying to breathe.”

Elara’s eyes widened in sheer shock. Her delicate jaw dropped slightly. Nobody spoke to her like that. Especially not the academy’s resident loser.

Before she could spit out a furious reply, the heavy classroom doors at the front slammed open.

The chatter in the room instantly died.

Professor Elena Moon walked in.

Arthur finally sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

His lungs still burned, but his mind was sharp. The physical torture of the walk was over. Now, the real game was about to begin.