What's one's deepest desire in life?
Is it to be rich? To wield power? To be loved, cherished, worshipped by legions of simps?
Well—yes. But also… no.
Strip away all the distractions, and you'll find a quiet, unspoken truth buried in every living being:
We all want to leave a legacy.
To be remembered. To matter.
And me?
I didn't leave jack.
On a crowded Tokyo bus, crammed into a sweaty corner like a forgotten sock behind a dryer, I was squashed on all sides, breathing in the stale breath of the masses. Seems like being a background character doesn't come with perks. No personal space. No significance. No soundtrack.
That's right. I am none other than Norihito Watanabe—a motherfreaking nobody. Just another NPC in Class 1-B. But here's the twist: I wasn't always this tragically lame.
Once upon a time, in a different world, I was an engineering student. A morally ambiguous, innovation-hungry mind on track to become a weapons designer for Lockheed Martin. That's right—future war criminal in the making. But then, in the second semester of my freshman year, I died.
Cause of death: too many party drugs.
Heh. My bad.
But fate, being the chaotic bitch she is, tossed me a second chance.
Now, here I am, reborn into the world of Classroom of the Elite, standing at the gates of the Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School—a place that looks like an anime high school but runs like a dystopian meritocracy.
The bus screeched to a stop, and the horde of students surged forward like a tsunami, dragging me along. I barely managed to stay upright before being flung off to the side like unwanted luggage.
I groaned, pushing myself off the asphalt. Dusting off my crimson blazer—tailored nicely, I must say, fits me better than depression ever did—I took a moment to breathe.
The flow of students was still thick, funneling into the gates like cattle. I hung back, letting the tide pass.
This isn't exactly the isekai I dreamed of. No cheat skills. No magic. No racist space lizards blowing up planets. Just… psychotic genius teenagers and a government experiment in social engineering.
But I'm not empty-handed.
I have canon knowledge. And sure, that might not carry me all the way—but it's enough to carve out a head start. My goal isn't to reach Class A or win some contrived popularity contest. No.
My aim is to leave an impression.
Every student who graduates from this hellhole is guaranteed success. Power. Wealth.
All I need is to spark the interest of the right future elite. Secure a job offer or two. Maybe get a glowing recommendation. Bribe the Japanese university system into giving me a seat. After that? I'm golden.
I was already inside the school building before I realized it. Wandering past a few still-empty classrooms, I finally arrived at the door that would define my new life.
Class 1-B.
Time to be more than a background character.
Time to make history.