Did I Get Reincarnated as a Supporting Character?

The arena's dust settled as the successful applicants were ushered out, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls of Cresthaven's inner courtyard. Sung-Min's legs felt like jelly, his breath still ragged from the Crucible, but a fire burned in his chest—small, unsteady, but undeniably his own. The green flicker of magic in his palm had faded, leaving only a lingering warmth, a whisper of potential he hadn't expected from Min-Sung's frail body. He'd passed the entrance exam, defied the script, and now stood among the elite. But the weight of what came next pressed down on him: surviving the academy itself.

Dean Valtor's voice rang out one last time, crisp and commanding. "You are now students of Cresthaven. Your dormitories await. Classes begin at dawn. Do not disgrace this institution." With a sweep of his robe, he vanished through a side archway, leaving the group to the proctors' clipped instructions.

Sung-Min followed the flow, his brown hair plastered to his forehead, emerald-green eyes darting over his new peers. Joren stalked ahead, his broad shoulders tense with barely contained fury. Sera walked beside Sung-Min, her braids bouncing as she hummed a tune, her notebook tucked under one arm. Liora was a few steps ahead, her silver hair a beacon in the crowd, though she didn't glance back. The rest were a blur of faces—some triumphant, others dazed—each carrying the weight of their own ambitions.

The dormitories were a step up from the temporary quarters: a towering building of polished stone, its windows glowing with mana-lamps. Inside, the halls smelled of wax and old books, lined with portraits of stern-faced alumni whose eyes seemed to follow Sung-Min as he climbed the stairs. His assigned room was small but private—a narrow bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a single window overlooking the academy's sprawling grounds. He dropped onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing.

"I'm in," he muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. "I'm actually in." The words felt surreal. In the novel, Min-Sung had never reached this point—he'd washed out after the duel, a footnote in Kang-Jae's rise. But Sung-Min had flipped that fate. He'd tripped Joren, outsmarted the Gauntlet, and coaxed magic from a body that wasn't supposed to have it. The story was shifting, and he was the pebble in the stream.

A knock jolted him upright. Sera leaned against the doorframe, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "Not bad for a first day, huh? Thought I'd check if you keeled over yet."

Sung-Min chuckled, swinging his legs off the bed. "Takes more than that to kill me. You're not half-bad yourself—those runes saved my ass."

She shrugged, stepping inside and plopping onto the desk chair. "Just didn't want Joren hogging all the fun. He's got a temper, but he's predictable. You, though…" She tilted her head, studying him. "You're weird. Weak as a kitten, but you don't act like it. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

He hesitated, the truth—a past life of video games and novels—too absurd to share. "Just… good instincts," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I'm a quick learner."

Sera snorted. "Sure. Well, keep those instincts sharp. Classes start tomorrow, and they don't coddle here. You've got magic, but it's raw. Figure it out fast, or someone like Joren'll eat you alive."

"Noted," Sung-Min said, leaning back. "What's your story, then? Runes aren't exactly common."

She smirked, twirling a pencil between her fingers. "Family trick. Grew up in a backwater village—dad was a scribe, mom carved wards for the local militia. I'm here on a scholarship, same as you, I'm guessing. Lowborn sticking it to the nobles, right?"

Sung-Min nodded, piecing it together. Sera's background wasn't in the book, but it fit—scrappy, resourceful, overlooked. Maybe she'd been there all along, a shadow in the margins. "Something like that. So, what's the plan? Survive the nobles or take them down?"

"Both," she said with a grin. "But I'll settle for passing first semester. Night, Min-Sung. Don't oversleep." She slipped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He lay back, staring out the window. The academy grounds glittered under the moon, a maze of towers and gardens humming with latent magic. This was his stage now—his chance to grow, to carve a legacy beyond the original Min-Sung's failure. But the absence of Kang-Jae lingered like a ghost. The protagonist should've been here, dazzling the trials, drawing every eye. Had Sung-Min's arrival delayed him? Or was something bigger at play?

Sleep claimed him eventually, fitful and dreamless.

Dawn broke with a chorus of bells, dragging Sung-Min from his bunk. He stumbled to the wardrobe, pulling on the academy uniform—a fitted blue tunic with silver trim, surprisingly comfortable despite its stiffness. His reflection in the mirror showed a boy still too thin, too soft, but the glint in his green eyes was sharper now, tempered by yesterday's victories.

The lecture hall was a cavernous space, its tiered seats carved from dark wood, its ceiling painted with constellations that shimmered faintly. Students filed in, their chatter a mix of nerves and bravado. Sung-Min took a seat near the back, Sera sliding in beside him. Joren sat a few rows ahead, his glare boring into Sung-Min until a proctor snapped at him to face forward. Liora was near the front, her posture perfect, her staff resting against her shoulder.

The instructor, a wiry woman with gray-streaked hair and a scar across her lip, strode to the podium. Professor Elara, Sung-Min recalled from the novel—a no-nonsense mage who'd once dueled a dragon and lived. Her voice cut through the room like a blade. "Welcome to Foundations of Mana. You're here because you've got potential. Prove it's not wasted. Today, we test your affinity."

Murmurs rippled through the class. Affinity—the core of magic in this world, a signature that shaped how mana flowed through you. In the book, Kang-Jae's had been fire, bold and unyielding. Liora's was water, fluid and fierce. Min-Sung's? The novel hadn't bothered to say.

Elara waved a hand, and a crystal orb floated to the center of the room, pulsing with soft light. "One by one. Touch it. Let it read you."

Students lined up, some eager, others hesitant. Darius went first, his hand sparking red as the orb flared with flame. "Fire, high potency," Elara announced, nodding. Joren followed, the orb glowing brown and solid. "Earth, moderate strength." Liora's turn drew gasps—blue light swirled like a tide, sharp and deep. "Water, exceptional control."

Sung-Min's stomach knotted as his turn approached. Sera nudged him. "Don't choke." He shot her a look, stepping forward. The orb was cool under his palm, its surface humming. He closed his eyes, reaching for that spark. It flared—green, bright, twisting like vines through the crystal.

Elara's brow furrowed. "Wind, with… traces of life. Unusual. Low potency, but adaptable." She waved him back, already calling the next name.

Sung-Min returned to his seat, mind spinning. Wind and life? That wasn't in the book—Min-Sung had never shown an affinity. Was this his doing, a bleed-over from his old self? Sera leaned over, whispering, "Not bad, weirdo. Wind's tricky, but it suits you."

Class stretched on, Elara drilling them on mana theory—channels, focus, intent. Sung-Min scribbled notes, his hand cramping, but his thoughts kept drifting to that green light. Wind could be speed, agility—things his weak body needed. Life… healing? Growth? He'd have to experiment.

After class, the students spilled into the courtyard, some heading to sparring fields, others to the library. Sung-Min lingered, watching Liora pause by a fountain. She caught his eye, nodding slightly before walking off. A small gesture, but it stuck with him.

Sera clapped his shoulder. "Lunch? You look like you're plotting something."

"Just thinking," he said, falling into step with her. "This place—it's a lot."

"Tell me about it," she laughed. "Stick with me, though. We'll figure it out."

As they headed to the dining hall, Sung-Min felt the shift—a new rhythm settling into his bones. Cresthaven was his now, not just Kang-Jae's. And with every step, he'd make it his story.