Did I Get Reincarnated as a Supporting Character?

The bruise on Sung-Min's ribs throbbed as he sank into his chair in the lecture hall, the morning's ambush still a raw ache in his bones. The mist had burned off, leaving Cresthaven's spires sharp against a pale sky, but the tension clung to him like damp cloth. Joren and Darius might be licking their wounds in detention, but their glares—and the whispers of their cronies—followed him through the corridors. He'd won a skirmish, not the war, and the cost was a target painted square on his back.

Sera slid into the seat beside him, her notebook already open, her hazel eyes flicking over him with a mix of concern and amusement. "You look like a kicked puppy," she said, keeping her voice low as Professor Elara strode to the podium. "Ribs still sore?"

"Only when I breathe," Sung-Min muttered, shifting to ease the pressure. He forced a grin, though—Sera didn't need to worry more than she already had. "I'll live."

She snorted, sketching a quick rune on her page that pulsed faintly before fading. "Barely. You're lucky Torv showed up. Next time, don't play hero without me."

"Noted," he said, his gaze drifting to the front where Liora sat, her silver hair a quiet beacon. She hadn't joined their trek to class, but her words under the oak—you're starting to look like you belong—echoed in his head. Kael sat a few rows ahead, chatting with a girl Sung-Min didn't recognize, his lightning-sharp grin a contrast to the day's weight.

Elara's voice snapped him back. "Today, we study resonance—how mana interacts with the world and itself. Pair up, same as before. You'll amplify your partner's spell. Precision matters. Begin."

Sung-Min turned to Sera, who was already grinning. "You're amplifying me this time," she said, flipping her notebook to a fresh page. "Let's see if that wind of yours can keep up."

He nodded, summoning his green spark. Sera traced a rune—a simple shield, gold and steady—and held it up. "Push your mana into it. Match my rhythm."

Sung-Min focused, the green light coiling from his palm. He felt for her spell's pulse, a faint hum like a heartbeat, and nudged his wind into it. The shield flared brighter, its edges sharpening, but then wavered, the gold flickering wildly. "Too much," Sera hissed, steadying it. "Ease off—gentle, like a breeze, not a storm."

He pulled back, sweat prickling his neck, and tried again. This time, the wind flowed smoother, threading into her rune until the shield glowed a steady, vibrant gold-green. It held, solid and strong, for a full minute before they let it drop.

Elara paused by their desk, her scarred lip twitching upward. "Good. Sloppy start, but you found the balance. Min-Sung, your control's improving. Keep it." She moved on, leaving Sung-Min with a flicker of pride.

Sera elbowed him. "Not bad, weirdo. Now me—give me something to work with."

He shaped a wind blade, tight and sharp, and held it steady. Sera sketched a rune—amplification, she muttered—and pushed her mana in. The blade stretched, its edge humming louder, cutting the air with a faint whistle. It felt alive, stronger than he'd managed alone, but his arm trembled under the strain.

"Nice," Sera said, grinning as they released it. "We're a decent team."

"Better than decent," he replied, flexing his hand. Resonance was new—teamwork, not just solo grit. It opened doors he hadn't considered, especially with his mana still so raw.

Across the room, Liora and Kael's pairing drew eyes. Her water serpent coiled around his lightning sphere, the two spells merging into a crackling, shimmering dance—blue and gold, fluid and electric. Darius, paired with his shadow-mage lackey, conjured a flame wall that swallowed the shadows, though his smirk suggested it was more show than finesse. Joren's absence left a gap, but his cronies muttered among themselves, their glances darting to Sung-Min like arrows.

Class ended with Elara's curt dismissal, and Sung-Min lingered, gathering his notes. Sera nudged him. "Lunch? Or are you brooding again?"

"Lunch," he said, standing despite the twinge in his side. "Need the fuel."

The dining hall was its usual chaos, but Sung-Min felt the shift—more eyes, more whispers. He grabbed a plate of stew and bread, settling with Sera near the window. Kael joined them uninvited, sliding in with a tray piled high. "Heard about your morning scrap," he said, tearing into a roll. "Four on one? Ballsy."

"Stupid," Sera corrected, smirking. "But yeah, ballsy."

Sung-Min shrugged, sipping his stew. "Didn't have much choice. They came for me."

Kael nodded, his dark eyes glinting. "Joren's a brute—predictable. Darius, though? He's got a brain. You've pissed him off good."

"Great," Sung-Min muttered, though he'd known it was coming. Darius wasn't just muscle—he'd been a foil to Kang-Jae in the novel, cunning behind the bluster. Sung-Min had no protagonist glow to lean on, just his wits and a growing spark.

Their chatter paused as Liora passed by, her tray balanced with a single bowl of soup. She didn't stop, but her gaze flicked to Sung-Min—brief, deliberate—before she took a seat alone. Sera raised an eyebrow. "She's orbiting you now. What's that about?"

"No clue," Sung-Min lied, though he suspected it was his defiance, his odd mana, drawing her in. Liora wasn't supposed to notice Min-Sung—not like this. The script was fraying, and he was the loose thread.

Lunch ended with a bell, and the afternoon brought magic drills under Torv's gruff eye. Sung-Min paired with Kael this time, their wind and lightning clashing in sharp, messy bursts. He held his own, his blade cutting through Kael's sparks, though the effort left him winded. Torv grunted approval—"Better, Min-Sung. Still weak, but better"—and moved on.

As the drills wound down, a shadow fell over the field. Darius approached, alone this time, his hands in his pockets, his red hair a flame against the gray sky. The crowd thinned, sensing trouble, but Sung-Min stood his ground, staff loose at his side.

"Got a minute, runt?" Darius said, his tone deceptively casual.

Sung-Min's ribs ached, but he nodded. "Sure. What's up?"

Darius stepped closer, towering over him, his voice low. "You're a pest—scrappy, I'll give you that. But you're playing a game you can't win. Joren's my dog—he barks when I say. You? You're just noise. Keep pushing, and I'll burn you down."

Sung-Min met his stare, his green eyes steady. "You tried this morning. Didn't stick."

Darius's grin was all teeth. "That was a warm-up. Next time, no Torv, no crowd. Just you and me." He leaned in, breath hot with the scent of smoke. "Back off, lowborn, or I'll make you wish you'd never crawled here."

He turned, striding off before Sung-Min could reply. The threat hung heavy, a promise of worse to come. Sera and Kael jogged over, their faces tight.

"Heard that," Kael said, frowning. "He's not bluffing."

Sera crossed her arms. "You've got a knack for picking fights you shouldn't win. What's the plan?"

Sung-Min exhaled, his mind racing. "Keep going. He wants me scared—I'm not. Not yet."

She shook her head, but there was a spark of respect in her eyes. "Stubborn as hell. Fine. We've got your back."

Kael clapped his shoulder. "Same. Lightning's good for a shock or two."

"Thanks," Sung-Min said, meaning it. Allies—real ones—were more than he'd expected from Min-Sung's life. The novel's heroines, its villains, they were shifting, and he was the pivot.

That night, he sat at his desk, the mana-lamp casting long shadows. He summoned his green light, shaping it into a blade, then a tendril—wind and life, twining together. The tendril held longer now, curling around his fingers before fading. It wasn't enough—not against Darius's fire—but it was a start.

Darius's words gnawed at him. Joren was a blunt tool, but Darius was a blade, precise and deadly. Backing off wasn't an option—Sung-Min had come too far to shrink now. He'd defied the script, survived the ambush, earned eyes worth having. The price was high, but he'd pay it.

The green spark flared brighter, a whisper of defiance in the dark. Let Darius come. Sung-Min would be ready—or he'd go down swinging.