Reborn As a Character That Never Existed

ime, you only need to write it down once.
Prince, just write it down five times as usual.”

“As usual?”

I read the paragraph at the top of the several passages the writing teacher had given me, holding a fountain pen in my hand.

To English:

“It is not right to try to answer all problems by saying that everything in the world is God’s will.
Although God sometimes gives prophecies or miracles, He is generally indifferent.
Therefore, scholars who are called to learn and study need to have a contemplative attitude toward any problem in the world.”

Will Yan be able to read and understand this text?

I glanced at Yan out of the corner of my eye.
He didn’t seem to be able to understand or even read the text properly.
It was so obvious that he was just copying the characters without any context, as if the teacher had extracted a part of a research book and asked a five-year-old to write it down.

“It’s just mindless copying.”

Pure anger that I had forgotten about started to rise.
It reminded me of the time in middle and high school when I had to write pages of mindless copying just to memorize it, and when I got to college, I had to write over thirty handwritten reports because of a crazy professor.

It was the epitome of inefficiency, but it still helped me study a little.

“But you can’t judge efficiency or inefficiency here.”

It’s just tormenting a young child.
I put down my pen and raised my hand.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Yes, of course.
Even though it’s your first class, you seem to be more eager to learn than the prince.”

“….”

‘Are you saying that in front of the victim? Can’t you see my kid looking sulky?’

If Yan asked a question, did this person receive it properly?

I forced a smile and snatched the paper Yan was looking at.
The crooked and childish handwriting seemed to show an effort to write it properly.

“Yan.”

“…Yeah?”

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No.”

“You need to go to the bathroom.”

“No, I really don’t have to go.”

“Don’t hesitate, just go and come back quickly.”

Yan looked back and forth between me and the teacher, not understanding the situation.
The teacher nodded, saying it was okay for Yan to go.
As Yan left, I ripped up the paper he had written in front of the teacher.

“Excuse me, Your Excellency?”

“What is the problem with this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it God’s will? Or is it the teacher’s problem?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Or is it someone’s problem to bring something like this to a young child who can’t even read properly and make them suffer, lower their self-esteem, and make them incompetent?”

The writing teacher froze at my words.
But he soon began to turn the conversation without deeply considering what a four-year-old child had said.

“Your Excellency, I understand that the class is somewhat difficult and unpleasant.
If you don’t want to do it today because it’s a field trip, you don’t have to.”

“Do you think I’m doing this because I don’t want to teach right now? I told you there’s a problem, but you don’t understand what it is?”

“…Then what do you think the problem is, Your Excellency?”

“…What?”

“I’m just following orders.
I’m not a good person, but there’s nothing I can do.
Your Excellency doesn’t need to worry about other people’s opinions since you’re in a position where you don’t have to.
As a young child with good parents, you can say things like this, right? I’m just a household tutor.”

“Ha.”

‘Look at this guy’s mouth.’

He was only doing it under the pressure of the queen, and I was cosplaying as a victim trying to push him down with my social superiority.

To suppress my anger, I looked down at my intact paper.
‘God’s will.’ Who am I to blame for putting Yan in this situation, as the author? I didn’t have the right to be angry, only the responsibility to resolve this situation.

Despite my personal dilemma about changing the original work, as a human being, I had to be angry about this situation and bear moral responsibility.

‘If you’re a human, that is.’

Although I introduced myself at the beginning of the class, I couldn’t remember the name of the English teacher in front of me.

Nam Joo grew up being bullied.
Those around her, including the extras who played a part in her abuse, were accomplices to the “setting” that had been created.
These anonymous villains did not even appear in the original work.

I was clearly the one who had created the situation that the individual couldn’t control.
And they were finding pleasure in abusing a child in an uncontrollable situation, gaining a sense of psychological fulfillment.

“I’m not good enough for you, am I?”

That was a lie.
He definitely liked it.
With eyes like Matilda, he spoke Dori’s name.

“What’s your name?”

This time, I asked for his name to remember it clearly.
It wasn’t worth being polite because of the extra villain without a name.
The teacher frowned at my informal speech, maybe because it bothered him as a human.

“If you’re human, you shouldn’t act like that.”

Although I tried to address just one anonymous extra villain, I ended up overturning everything.