Happy Evil Heartbreaker [Modern LitRPG]

Enjoying herself was one thing, but when help was needed, it had to be given.

After all, according to Xanthia's speculation, the "Battle of the Moonlight" challenge mission, lacking that final one percent progress, seemed to hinge on Dematero.

Anticipating the special reward after completing this challenge, Xanthia looked forward to its effects—

Dematero (PS: This "summoned beast" has a growth quality of purple, specializing in literature, with the trait of loyalty, enduring all suffering, and producing high pain value. After successfully capturing it, all pain value accumulated from its future literary works will belong to the player).

Just from this description, Xanthia felt that if Dematero really pursued literature, he might become a "depressing author" who crazily stabs at readers with knives, though it remained unclear whether he could get rich by selling blades.

It was dusk, the time before dinner, and the setting sun's afterglow spilled across the school's large playground.

Dematero sat alone, quietly on the west side of the grandstand, his head hanging low, his face filled with despair.

He still remembered the end of the military training at the beginning of the school year, when the school leaders and Dionysius, the shining student representative, had delivered speeches from this podium.

The formations of students had marched past on the rubber track, changing from a marching step to a regular step, all neatly aligned, reviewed by the leaders on the podium.

At that time, Dematero was still a young man who knew nothing of sorrow, completely ignorant of matters of the heart. He had been so simple, genuine and pure, filled with the confidence that came with entering a top-notch high school.

But now, he was in utter despair and heartbroken. He had truly tasted the bitterness of love and his world that once been colorful and vibrant was now black and grey and lifeless. He had been convinced that he and Elena liked each other. Their subtle understanding and flirtations had been so sweet.

He was sure that their mutual liking wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Besides the various eye contacts, there was another powerful piece of evidence—

Every day after morning classes, when he left the classroom through the front door, Elena always happened to be leaving through the same door. They walked side by side out the door, their arms brushing against each other without any distance between them!

This was the first time in his life he had been so close to a girl, "cheek to cheek." At that time, his heart almost burst. Maybe he hadn't fallen deeply in love yet, just starting to understand feelings, but in those repeated instances of subtle intimacy, he had completely fallen.

If initially he hadn't known whether Elena's actions were coincidental, he later intentionally waited for her footsteps, actively seeking to walk out of the classroom with her...

If Elena had rejected him, she wouldn't have cooperated like this every time. It seemed she enjoyed it.

Thinking of himself, Dematero believed that if he liked someone, that person would be all he saw. He would only want such close, ambiguous contact with that person alone. But today's unexpected encounter shattered him completely!

He found himself ridiculous and pitiful for all his previous actions.

Because of Elena, he had even, with superhuman willpower, restrained his feelings, not developing feelings for Xanthia, who was a more outstanding girl.

He believed that between himself and Xanthia, there was just pure classmate camaraderie and friendship. There was no ambiguity between them. If he let this friendship sour, it would disrespect Xanthia. He was that kind of obsessive literary youth, insisting on clearly distinguishing between love and friendship.

However, reality educated him otherwise—what nonsense love! It wasn't as pure and noble as he had imagined!

For beautiful girls, casually keeping fish or dogs, juggling multiple lines of romance, seemed to be an innate instinct.

Ultimately, Dematero wasn't the kind of person who deluded himself to the extreme. Clearly, Elena was holding hands with another guy, yet he still found excuses for her. Maybe the guy was just her brother or something, but they were old enough to know better.

Since he held such high standards for himself, being so devoted to his art, he couldn't forgive even the slightest "blemish" in the girl he truly liked.

For him, Elena had already been sentenced to death.

With this thought, Dematero acted rashly!

He took out his phone and sent a message to Elena on Synomilia: "Do you have a boyfriend? If so, I won't bother you anymore."

Actually, whether she did or didn't, Dematero wouldn't do anything more for her. At most, he would write another prose or poem mourning his first love, directly turning her into material for his writing. This was him after making a complete break.

It took Elena a long time to respond with a "?". She wouldn't give a straightforward answer to such a question.

"Weren't we having a good time chatting and listening to that song I dedicated to you, 'Thank You for Your Gentleness'?" Dematero typed out in frustration.

There was a line in that song's lyrics that perfectly matched his mood then— "I don't know, I don't understand, I don't want to, why is it that my heart wants to get closer, but ends up lonely till dawn."

"Oh, yes, it was quite enjoyable, chatting and listening to music with you," Elena replied.

"Okay, I confess. Those anonymous love poems I sent you, I wrote them. And those heart-shaped lollipops hidden in your desk hole a few days ago, they were secretly from me..."

Dematero truly laid it all bare. He had actually enjoyed the beauty of this secret admiration, but today's events deeply stung him.

...

...

...

"So what?"

...

...

,,,

Dematero was silent for a long time after these three words. He had expressed himself so clearly; why was she so indifferent?

...

"I like you."

...

Seeing these four words, Elena's expression remained cold, her heart unmoved, and she even felt like laughing.

A classic Synomilia confession, huh? These young boys nowadays are truly boring and insincere. Originally, because he showed a bit of talent, she had hoped to see more interesting tricks from him, adding some spice to the dull high school life. But this was it?

...

...

...

"Sorry, you can't make me feel secure."

...

In Dematero's own eyes, all the time and effort he had devoted to Elena deeply moved him. He had even let his grades slip to such an extent for her sake...

But in Elena's eyes, all his actions seemed too naive and silly. Giving gifts like lollipops? Treating her like a three-year-old?

And those love poems... In this day and age, still playing with traditional love poems? Couldn't he do something more practical?

Considering Dematero's average family background, Elena didn't expect much. If he could provide some emotional value, that would be the extent of his significance.

Men were just tools after all, each with their own uses.

When an idealistic, obsessive literary youth met a realist, whose family circumstances had drastically changed, and on top of that, a beautiful girl, collisions resulting in shattered hearts and bruises were inevitable.

Seeing Elena's reply, Dematero couldn't help but smile with resignation.

Although he had anticipated it long ago, when it came down to it, he was still deeply wounded to the core. His heart shattered into pieces, and he would never believe in any damn love ever again!

His youth, his life, all the beautiful fantasies of love, all the tenderness he had for this world—everything turned to ashes in this moment.

Unable to bear it, he, who had plunged headlong into the depths of despair, chose to sink completely!

"Dark world, here I come!," he muttered with a bitter smile, fighting back tears that threatened to spill uncontrollably.

One could only say that Dematero was still too young, sailing smoothly since childhood, never tempered by extreme pain.