When I opened my eyes, I was in the infirmary.

Looks like I somehow managed to pass out after all. Not sure how much time has passed, but judging from the fact that I’m still stuck in this body—the body of "Aria"—Plan B, aka "die to return to my original world," was a spectacular failure.

Looking back, it really was a reckless, impulsive plan. What if I had actually died and still didn’t go back? What if I just… died for real, in this world?

I acted before thinking, and that’s on me. But knowing myself, even if I had thought it through, I probably would’ve tried it anyway. I just can’t leave things alone when I’m that curious.

Anyway, Plan B is officially on hold for now. I’m only human, and I do not have the guts to get stabbed again. That hurt way more than I expected. Like, a lot more. If I ever do try again, I’m gonna need a cleaner, less painful, and much more foolproof method.

Didn’t someone once say the least painful way to die is a bullet to the head? ...Wait. Do guns even exist in this world?

It’s been years since I read Arcadia Academy, so I honestly can’t remember all the small details. For now, I just want to go back to my dorm.

The infirmary bed is so uncomfortable I can barely rest. I tried tossing and turning to sleep again, but my back kept getting sore. I’d rather roll around in my dorm bed, honestly.

"Wait... do I need permission to leave?"

I looked around. The room was completely empty. Seems like whoever was here stepped out for a bit.

"Welp. Guess I’ll just leave a note."

Thankfully, the moment I possessed this body, a language patch must've kicked in because writing wasn't a problem. I rifled through the drawer by the bed and found a fountain pen. No paper, but I made do with a tissue.

I wrote a quick note and placed it neatly on the bed after straightening the sheets.

[The infirmary bed was uncomfortable, so I’ll be resting in my dorm room. Thank you for the treatment. - Aria]

As I opened the infirmary door and stepped into the hallway, I was greeted by complete darkness. A glance out the window told me it was already late at night.

"Do I really think I can find my way in a place I don’t even know?"

...Okay, but honestly? I have a pretty good sense of direction. I’ll manage. And if I get lost? Whatever. I’ll just pretend I’m on a late-night sightseeing tour.

It seriously feels like I’m walking through a movie set. Medieval-style hallways, golden chandeliers, portraits on every wall, intricate window moldings... Where else would I get to experience such a vibe for free?

Then, something outside caught my eye.

"...Huh?"

Through the foggy window glass, bathed in soft moonlight, I spotted a giant greenhouse. The hazy silhouettes inside, the delicate lines casting faint reflections against the glass—

Roses.

"The rose greenhouse... isn’t that the place the heroine, Eunice, always visited?"

Eunice was in the gardening club, and she had a special obsession with roses. But it wasn’t just because they were pretty. Her interest came from a cold, calculated understanding of roses as high-value goods.

She bred different colors, experimented with cross-pollination, and redefined roses in her own way. Her goal was crystal clear:

Create rare breeds, release them in limited quantities, assign unique flower meanings based on color, then target the gift-giving market with their symbolism and exclusivity.

White for forgiveness. Blue for eternal vows. Deep red for everlasting farewells.

She made up the flower meanings herself, designed the supply chain, and calculated everything down to the last petal.

Eventually, she expanded beyond flowers. Rosewater. Rosehip oil skincare. Premium teas brewed from a specific rose variety— She wanted to build a whole luxury brand around roses.

She even anticipated corporate espionage, so she memorized her breeding methods and care instructions, then burned the notebook to ashes in the fireplace.

That level of paranoia? Only possible with protagonist-tier memory.

Lost in thought, I found myself walking toward the greenhouse.

Then—I saw someone quietly slipping out of it through a crack in the door.

I couldn’t make out the figure clearly, but that flowing strawberry-blonde hair...

It had to be Eunice. No doubt about it.

Wait. This is my chance!

When else am I gonna meet the actual heroine of the story in person?

If I already got isekai’d into this mess, I might as well get something out of it!

Seizing the moment, I sprinted straight for the greenhouse!